Gospel Story Finder

I remember a young man in my third area who was very passionate about serving the Lord and zealous in his effort and contribution to missionary work. He once tried to call a friend on phone but instead dialed a wrong number. The number belonged to a young lady who had been prepared to receive the gospel. They interacted for a few minutes and soon discovered they lived in the same area.
The meetinghouse was not too far from her home, and my young friend introduced himself and his faith and expressed interest in meeting her. The young lady’s name was Vivian. She was welcoming and friendly. She had a listening spirit. We acted promptly, and I soon met the strongest convert I will ever have on my mission.
What amazed me the most about Vivian was her readiness to act and keep commitments. She attended all Church meetings, usually arriving even earlier than the branch presidency on Sunday and earlier than everyone else on other meeting days within the week. She asked important questions that increased her knowledge of the gospel deeply. I was moved by her profound character and was inspired by her love for the Lord and for missionary work.
After her baptism, her voice became a powerful third witness to my later converts in the area as she spoke the language of the heart and with not many, but a few words, communicated passion for Christ, His righteousness, and the restored gospel unlike any other. To this day, I remember fondly the lovely experiences we had with her while walking in the sun, teaching and testifying to all those who would listen. She became an inspiration to the young men and women, and she helped us teach. It was a difficult area to work in but Vivian, with her light, made the hardest times the most memorable.

I saw again the power of keeping covenants through a chance conversation with a man I sat down next to on a trip. I had never met him before, but apparently he had seen me in the crowd because his first words after I introduced myself were, “I’ve been watching you.” He told me about his work. I told him about mine. He asked about my family, and then he told me something about his. He said that his wife was a member of the Church and that he was not.

After he came to trust me, he said something like this: “You know, there is something in your church you should fix. You need to tell your people when to quit.” He explained that he and his wife had been married for 25 years. She had been a member of the Church since childhood. In their years of marriage she had only once stepped into a building of the Church, and that was to tour a temple before its dedication, and then only because her parents had arranged it.

Then he told me why he thought we ought to make a change. He said that in those 25 years of married life, in which his wife showed no interest in the Church, visiting teachers and home teachers had never stopped coming to their home. He told of one evening when he went out to walk his dog alone only to find the home teacher happening by with his dog, eager to visit with him.

He told, with a touch of exasperation, of another night when he came home from a long business trip, put his car in the garage, and then came out to find his home teachers standing there, smiling. He said to me something like, “And there they were, right in my face with another plate of cookies.”

I think I understood his feelings. And then I tried, as best I could, to tell him how hard it would be to teach such teachers to quit. I told him that the love that he had felt from those many visitors and their constancy over the years in the face of little response came from a covenant they had made with God. I told him about the baptismal covenant as Alma described it in the Book of Mormon. I didn’t quote these words, but you will remember them as Alma asked those he had taught whether they wished to be baptized:

“And it came to pass that he said unto them: Behold, here are the waters of Mormon (for thus were they called) and now, as ye are desirous to come into the fold of God, and to be called his people, and are willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light;

“Yea, and are willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, and to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places that ye may be in, even until death, that ye may be redeemed of God, and be numbered with those of the first resurrection, that ye may have eternal life” (Mosiah 18:8–9).

Those home teachers and visiting teachers understood and believed that the covenant to be witnesses and to love were intertwined and that they reinforced each other. There is no other way to explain what had happened. My new friend recognized that the visitors had genuine concern for him and for his wife. And he knew their caring sprang from a belief that impelled them to come back. He seemed, at least to me, to understand that those visitors were driven from within by a covenant they would not break. As we parted I think he knew why he could expect that there would be more visits, more evidence of caring, and more patient waiting for the opportunity to bear testimony of the restored gospel. As we parted, I realized that I had learned something too. I will never again see home teaching or visiting teaching as only programs of the Church. Those faithful teachers saw what they were doing for what it really was. Such work is an opportunity, not a burden. Every member has made the covenant in the waters of baptism to be a witness for God. Every member has made a covenant to do works of kindness as the Savior would do. So any call to bear witness and to care for others is not a request for extra service; it is a blessing designed by a loving Heavenly Father and His Son Jesus Christ. They have provided such calls as well as other settings, sometimes without a formal call, all for the same purpose. Each is a chance to prove what blessings flow from being a covenant people, and each is an opportunity for which you agreed to be accountable. Each is a sacred responsibility for others accepted in the waters of baptism but too often not met because it may not be recognized for what it is.

As a boy, President Gordon B. Hinckley lived across the street from Marjorie Pay. She first caught his eye at a ward social when she gave a reading. Their first date was to the Gold and Green Ball, a Church dance. At that time, Gordon went to the University of Utah and Marjorie was a senior in high school. They became good friends, and their friendship later turned to courtship.
When the time came, Marjorie supported Gordon in his decision to go on a mission to the British Isles. They parted as best friends and wrote each other while they were separated. Marjorie dated others while Gordon was on his mission, but she didn’t think anyone measured up to him. After he got home, Gordon and Marjorie discovered they still loved each other’s cheerfulness and optimism. They continued their educations, waiting until they felt it was the right time to get married. They were sealed together eternally in the Salt Lake Temple on 29 April 1937.
Since their early days together, President and Sister Hinckley kept their marriage strong by always putting the Lord first. Sister Hinckley said, “It seemed to me that if you understood the gospel and the purpose of our being here, you would want a husband who put the Lord first. I felt secure knowing he was that kind of man.” (See Sheri L. Dew, Go Forward with Faith: The Biography of Gordon B. Hinckley [1996], 41, 58–59, 83, 106–7, 113–16.)

In reality, that kind of precision often requires mastery of some pretty complex technology on a modern bow. You start coming across terms like stabilizer, sight, clicker, and more. “My friends are sometimes shocked at all the gear,” says LaNola P., a 17-year-old from California with a true talent for archery. “It’s a lot harder than you would think.”
LaNola has been involved in archery since she was six years old, with her dad as her coach and shooting partner. Over the years she’s won competitions and set national archery records. Archery hasn’t been her only focus, however. She keeps the gospel at the heart of all she does, even when that means getting out of bed at 4:00 a.m. to attend 5:25 a.m. seminary. “The gospel allows me to keep things in perspective,” says LaNola. “I know my strength comes from Heavenly Father.”

At 16, after being a paper boy for five years, I was somewhat surprised when the manager of circulation asked me to be the assistant manager and act as the supervisor of all the newspaper boys in the city. It was quite an honor because of my youth, and I remember how grateful I felt to the Lord. I saw it as a direct blessing from the Lord in allowing me to grow and obtain additional development.
I worked as the assistant manager for about two years, and I will never forget the great challenge that then came to me. I had been paying my tithing regularly during that time and certainly believed in the principle, but I did not have as sure a witness of that principle as I was about to attain.
One Saturday afternoon after finishing work, the manager told me that starting a week from the following day, on Sunday, it would be necessary for me to work every Sunday morning. The manager was an inactive member of the Church at the time, and he knew that I was not going to react favorably to the suggestion. But he was quick to tell me that even though I would miss priesthood meeting and Sunday School, I could find some other means of attending meetings, and thus it would not be all that serious to skip those meetings. He then attempted to entice me by telling me that my pay would be increased by 30 percent, thinking that this might change my mind about the principle of not working on Sunday.
I remember how strongly those words fell upon my heart, but I also remember my response: “I am quite certain that I cannot work on Sunday.”
“Well,” he said, “you will have to work on Sunday or I will find another assistant manager.”
I left the office rather teary-eyed that day. I remember asking the Lord why I should lose my job as a result of the Church. I had been working hard to save enough money to support myself on a mission, and now I was going to lose my job unless I were willing to work on Sunday.
I talked to my father to ask his counsel, and all he would tell me was, “I am sure you will do what is right, whatever that may be.” I was left with the weight of the decision. I spoke later to my bishop and asked him what to do, and his advice was the same as my father’s. However, he added that if I decided to work on Sunday, there might be some possibility of my attending another ward for priesthood meeting as the neighboring ward was holding them in the afternoons at that period of time in the city where I lived. After talking to these two men, the feeling came over me that there was no way to resolve this matter except by finding out what the Lord would have me do.
The following Saturday I went in and announced to the manager that I would not work on Sunday. He informed me that since that was my choice, I would have one week and no longer as the assistant manager, and then I would be replaced by a young man who was “really willing to work.”
I left work that day with a very heavy heart, realizing that in five or six days I would be without a job. In one more year I was to go on my mission, and I did not yet have sufficient funds to support myself. I prayed much that week.
The following days at work seemed very long, and there were very few words spoken between my boss and me. I waited for the next Saturday, which was to be my last day.
Friday finally arrived. As I was finishing work that evening, the manager approached me and said, somewhat emotionally, “Gene, you are right in what you are doing, and I am wrong in asking you to work on Sunday. I have found a young man of another religion who is willing to work on Sunday, but I still want you to be my assistant manager. And by the way, that 30 percent increase will be given to you anyway, even though you will not be working the seventh day. You are a very good young man.”
My young friends, I will never forget the feeling of gratitude that came over me at that moment. I will also never forget my feelings that month as I paid more than an honest tithe and faithfully attended to my responsibilities on Sunday.

Another acquaintance is a lovely, well-educated woman who has been a very heavy smoker. She now tells us of a few times she even woke her husband up in the middle of the night and insisted that he go to an all-night store to get her a pack of cigarettes. This couple came in contact with the missionaries, believed their message, and joined the Church. When she knew she had to quit smoking, the woman almost immediately threw off the chains of this habit and became free of tobacco addiction.
The lady of whom I spoke was able to break the chains of a bad habit because she became committed to change. Some of the Lamanites under King Lamoni were able to break the chains of their iniquities of murder, indolence, and hatred when they were taught by Ammon. They became even more valiant than the Nephites because they became committed to righteousness.

Many years ago, I observed a heartbreak—which became a tragedy. A young couple was nearing the delivery of their first child. Their lives were filled with the anticipation and excitement of this monumental experience. During the delivery, complications arose and the baby died. Heartbreak turned to grief, grief turned to anger, anger turned to blame, and blame turned to revenge toward the doctor, whom they held fully responsible. Parents and other family members became heavily involved, together seeking to ruin the reputation and the career of the physician. As weeks and then months of acrimony consumed the family, their bitterness was extended to the Lord. “How could He allow this horrible thing to occur?” They rejected the repeated efforts of Church leaders and members to spiritually and emotionally comfort them and, in time, disassociated themselves from the Church. Four generations of the family have now been affected. Where once there were faith and devotion to the Lord and His Church, there has been no spiritual activity by any family member for decades.

Learning to discern the teachings of the Spirit is an important part of helping faith become a reality. My daughter Karen shared her experience. She said, “When I was just a little girl, I started reading the Book of Mormon for the first time. After many days of reading, I came one night to 1 Nephi 3:7 [1 Ne. 3:7]: ‘I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them.’”
Karen continued: “I didn’t know this was a famous verse, but as I read that verse, I felt strongly impressed. I was impressed that Heavenly Father would help us keep His commandments, but the deep impression was really more of a feeling. I had seen my parents mark verses in their scriptures with red pencils. So I got up and searched through the house until I found a red pencil, and with a great sense of solemnity and importance, I marked that verse in my own Book of Mormon. Over the years as I read the scriptures, that experience was repeated time and time again—reading a verse and feeling deeply impressed. In time I came to recognize that feeling as the Holy Ghost. As a missionary I saw others read verses and feel deeply impressed to the extent that they were willing and able to change their lives and accept the gospel.”

While serving as an Area Seventy, I reserved each Tuesday night to do ministering visits with the stake presidents in my area of responsibility. I invited them to make appointments with those who were in need of an ordinance of the gospel of Jesus Christ or who were not currently keeping the covenants they had made. Through our consistent and intentional ministering, the Lord magnified our efforts and we were able to find individuals and families who were in need. These were the “poor little ones” who lived in the different stakes where we served.
On one occasion, I accompanied President Bill Whitworth, the president of the Sandy Utah Canyon View Stake, to do ministering visits. He was prayerful about whom we should visit, trying to have the same experience as Nephi, who “was led by the Spirit, not knowing beforehand the things which [he] should do” (1 Nephi 4:6). He demonstrated that as we minister, we should be led by revelation to those who are most in need, as opposed to just going down a list or visiting individuals in a methodical way. We should be led by the power of inspiration.
I remember going into the home of a young couple, Jeff and Heather, and their little boy, Kai. Jeff grew up an active member of the Church. He was a very talented athlete and had a promising career. He began to drift away from the Church in his teenage years. Later, he got into a car accident, which altered the course of his life. As we entered their home and became acquainted, Jeff asked us why we came to see his family. We responded that there were about 3,000 members who lived within the stake boundaries. I then asked him, “Jeff, of all the homes we could have visited tonight, tell us why the Lord has sent us here.”
With that, Jeff became emotional and began to share with us some of his worries and some issues that they were dealing with as a family. We began to share various principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ. We invited them to do a few specific things that might seem to be challenging at first but in time would bring great happiness and joy. Then President Whitworth gave Jeff a priesthood blessing to help him overcome his challenges. Jeff and Heather agreed to do what we invited them to do.
About a year later, it was my privilege to watch Jeff baptize his wife, Heather, a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. They are now preparing themselves to enter the temple to be sealed as a family for time and all eternity. Our visit altered the course of their lives both temporally and spiritually.

I have never forgotten a story that Elder Robert Harbertson told at this Tabernacle pulpit. He spoke of an Indian boy who climbed a high mountain. It was cold up there. At his feet was a snake, a rattlesnake. The snake was cold and pleaded with the young man to pick it up and take it down where it was warmer.

The Indian boy listened to the enticings of the serpent. He gave in. He gathered it up into his arms and covered it with his shirt. He carried it down the mountain to where it was warm. He gently put it on the grass. When the snake was warm it raised its head and struck the boy with its poisonous fangs.

The boy cursed at the snake for striking him as an answer to his kindness. The snake replied, “You knew what I was when you picked me up” (“Restoration of the Aaronic Priesthood,” Ensign, July 1989, 77).

In the early 1930s, Margaret Kisilevich and her sister Nellie gave a Christmas gift to their neighbors, the Kozicki family, which was remembered by them all their lives and which has become an inspiration to their families.
Home to Margaret back then was Two Hills, Alberta, Canada—a farming community populated largely by Ukrainian and Polish immigrants who generally had large families and were very poor. It was the time of the Great Depression.
Margaret’s family consisted of her mother and father and their 15 children. Margaret’s mother was industrious and her father was enterprising—and with all those children, they had a built-in labor force. Consequently, their home was always warm, and despite their humble circumstances, they were never hungry. In the summer they grew an enormous garden, made sauerkraut, cottage cheese, sour cream, and dill pickles for barter. They also raised chickens, pigs, and beef cattle. They had very little cash, but these goods could be exchanged for other commodities they could not produce themselves.
Margaret’s mother had friends with whom she had emigrated from the old country. These friends owned a general store, and the store became a depot for folks in the area to donate or trade surplus hand-me-down clothing, shoes, etc. Many of these used items were passed along to Margaret’s family.
Alberta winters were cold, long, and hard, and one particularly cold and difficult winter, Margaret and her sister Nellie noticed the poverty of their neighbors, the Kozicki family, whose farm was a few miles away. When the Kozicki father would take his children to school on his homemade sleigh, he would always go into the school to warm himself by the potbelly stove before returning home. The family’s footwear consisted of rags and gunny sacks cut into strips and wrapped about the legs and feet, stuffed with straw, and bound with twine.
Margaret and Nellie decided to invite the Kozicki family, by way of the children, for Christmas dinner. They also decided not to tell anyone in their family of the invitation.
Christmas morning dawned, and everyone in Margaret’s family was busy with the preparations for the midday feast. The huge pork roast had been put in the oven the night before. The cabbage rolls, doughnuts, prune buns, and special burnt sugar punch had been prepared earlier. The menu would be rounded out with sauerkraut, dill pickles, and vegetables. Margaret and Nellie were in charge of getting the fresh vegetables ready, and their mother kept asking them why they were peeling so many potatoes, carrots, and beets. But they just kept peeling.
Their father was the first to notice a team of horses and a sleigh packed with 13 people coming down their lane. He, being a horse lover, could recognize a team from a long distance. He asked his wife, “Why are the Kozickis coming here?” Her response to him was, “I don’t know.”
They arrived, and Margaret’s father helped Mr. Kozicki stable the horses. Mrs. Kozicki embraced Margaret’s mother and thanked her for inviting them for Christmas. Then they all piled into the house, and the festivities began.
The adults ate first, and then the plates and cutlery were washed, and the children ate in shifts. It was a glorious feast, made better by the sharing of it. After everyone had eaten, they sang Christmas carols together, and then the adults settled down for another chat.
Margaret and Nellie took the children into the bedroom and pulled from under the beds several boxes filled with hand-me-downs they had been given by their mother’s merchant friends. It was heavenly chaos, with an instant fashion show and everyone picking whatever clothes and footwear they wanted. They made such a racket that Margaret’s father came in to see what all the noise was about. When he saw their happiness and the joy of the Kozicki children with their “new” clothes, he smiled and said, “Carry on.”
Early in the afternoon, before it got too cold and dark with the setting sun, Margaret’s family bid farewell to their friends, who left well fed, well clothed, and well shod.
Margaret and Nellie never told anyone about their invitation to the Kozickis, and the secret remained until Margaret Kisilevich Wright’s 77th Christmas, in 1998, when she shared it with her family for the first time. She said it was her very best Christmas ever.

You might have seen Nick Whitaker before. He’s been in seminary videos and a few other productions during his short acting career. Now, Nick, 16, is portraying the Prophet Joseph Smith in a new movie about the Prophet’s life.
The movie will soon replace The Testaments of One Fold and One Shepherd at the Legacy Theater in the Joseph Smith Memorial Building in downtown Salt Lake City. The new movie is part of the Church’s commemoration of the 200th birthday of the Prophet Joseph Smith.
Nick’s real-life brother, Max, 11, plays William Smith, one of Joseph’s younger brothers. Max played the part of William Smith in The Restoration DVD as well.
The brothers enjoy working together. They say their testimonies of the Prophet have been built up by their parts in this movie. They have studied about the Smith family and the Prophet and have prayed continually about their parts.
“I’ve gotten to know Joseph Smith a lot better,” says Nick. “I only knew the highlights of his life before. But even the little parts of his life are highlights now. I know he is a true prophet.”
One of the things Nick learned is that Joseph Smith walked with a slight limp as a result of a surgery he had when he was young. Nick had to learn to walk with a small limp, too, to play his part.
Max says he can feel the Spirit when he is filming and learning more about the Prophet. “It has strengthened my testimony,” he says.
Nick and Max hope the new movie will change people’s lives and strengthen testimonies of the Prophet Joseph Smith and The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

A few years ago I had been assigned to tour a mission in another land. Before our first meeting with the missionaries, I asked the mission president if there were any particular problems I needed to attend to. He told me of one missionary who had made his mind up to go home early—he was very unhappy. “Could I help him?” I asked. The president wasn’t sure.
As I was shaking hands with the missionaries before the meeting, it wasn’t hard to tell which one wanted to leave. I told the president if he didn’t mind I’d like to speak to the young man after the meeting. As I watched him during the meeting, about all I could think of was the big piece of gum he had in his mouth. After the meeting this tall young missionary came up to the stand.
“Could we visit?” I asked.
His response was an inference that he couldn’t care less.
We went to the side of the chapel. We sat together as I gave him my very best speech on why missionaries should not go home early. He kept looking out the window, paying absolutely no attention to me.
Off and on we were in meetings together for two days. One time he even sat on the front row and read the newspaper as I talked. I was baffled and unnerved by him. By now it appeared to me that he should go home—and soon! I’d been praying for a way to reach him for two days, but to no avail.
The last night after our meeting I was visiting with some folks in the front of the chapel. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the elder. At that very moment I had a feeling about him enter my heart that I had not yet experienced. I excused myself, went over to him, took his hand, looked him in the eye, and said, “Elder, I’m glad I’ve become acquainted with you. I want you to know that I love you.”
Nothing more was said as we separated. As I started out the chapel door for our car, there he stood again. I took his hand again, put my arm around him, looked up in his eyes and said, “What I said to you before, I really mean. I love you; please keep in touch with me.”
Spirit communicates to spirit. It was then that his eyes filled with tears and this boy said simply, “Bishop Peterson, in all my life I can never remember being told ‘I love you.’”
Now I knew why he was confused, disturbed, insecure, and wanted to leave the mission field.

A few years ago I had the opportunity to teach seminary at Timpview High School in Provo, Utah. I was excited to begin a new year and looked forward with great anticipation to what the future held.
I was somewhat apprehensive, however, about going to Timpview because it would be my first experience of teaching or attending school without spending my afternoons playing football or baseball or coaching. I knew I could do it, but I worried nevertheless. I suppose that is why I enjoyed pep assemblies so much. It was an opportunity to feel many of the same feelings I had had as a player and as a coach. You have probably had the same experience—chills running down your arms and the back of your neck when you enter the gymnasium while the band is playing and the cheerleaders are cheering. It’s exciting!
I remember one particular assembly before a big game. The cheerleaders had planned a special class competition involving cream pies. I don’t remember all the details, but I do remember that some of the athletes, you know the type, the ones who all sit together and won’t cheer except on rare occasions, got an idea to liven things up by throwing some of the pies at the cheerleaders. Somehow the activities the cheerleaders had planned were left in a barrage of pies being thrown, hairdos being ruined, and the student body cheering for the athletic culprits. I must admit, it was quite an experience.
Very little was said to these young men, that I am aware of, by the cheerleaders. Each girl allowed the boys to think they had really gained the upper hand and gotten away with a fast one.
The pies were soon forgotten, and another pep assembly greeted us a few weeks later.
This time, as we entered the gym, there were 12 caramel apples on center court. Big, beautiful, brown caramel apples, waiting for someone to eat them.
When everyone was settled down and the band had ceased playing, the head cheerleader walked to the microphone and began to explain that morning’s class competition. From the small piece of paper she read the names of six football players and challenged them to a candied-apple-eating contest. As each name was read the responding young man came down to the basketball court with confidence, raising his hands as if in triumph, knowing that he could eat an apple faster than any girl.
Myself and another teacher were called upon to judge this historic event. The cheerleaders explained the rules to me, and I then explained them to the young men. The young men, however, were not overly concerned because each was proficient in eating and eating quickly. The only two rules were (1) every apple on each team must be completely devoured and (2) the girls were to be allowed a ten-second head start.
After hearing the rules, the young men decided on a game plan: they would not chew—just bite, swallow, bite, swallow, until each apple was gone. With such strategy the contest began.
The whistle blew, and the girls began to eat with great care and deliberate actions. The boys, on the other hand, stood watching, waiting for their winning opportunity.
When the second whistle blew, each young man, without any hesitation or forethought, lunged toward the caramel apple before him. With no table manners evident, they began to devour them with great haste—bite, swallow, bite, swallow. Then suddenly, in unison, as if a light switch had been turned on inside each boy, heads raised in shock and disbelief as they realized they were not eating candy covered apples but candy-covered onions! The crowd roared when they realized what had happened. The cheerleaders, on the other hand, stood calmly, hands signaling the peace sign in recognition of their sly plan to deceive the football players.
By now these poor boys were looking as white as sheets and trying to get rid of the large bites of raw onion which were now floating throughout their systems.
I’ll never forget it! Those poor guys smelled like onions for quite some time, and it was not an easy task to rid themselves of the stench.

A sense of humor also works well for Loraine Taylor of Calgary, Alberta, Canada.
“Everybody’s not a jokester,” says Loraine, “but for me that usually works.”
“I was invited to a graduation party, and I knew that joking wouldn’t do it. I also knew that I wouldn’t be able to leave early because I had a date. So I prayed really hard before the party that I would be able to resist.
“People kept offering me drinks all night, but I had a prayer in my heart the whole time, so I made it through the evening.
“At first, it wasn’t easy. It took time and a lot of refusals before my friends finally knew me well enough to know that I was still their friend—even when I said no. But later they wouldn’t smoke or drink around me.”

From the sheds come rustlings and flutterings and soft cooing sounds. Jeff opens the door of one shed and you quickly step inside. In the half-light, winged shapes blur through the air at the sudden disturbance, then settle back into their boxlike perches.
Pigeons. But not the ordinary kind. Among them are Jeff’s West of England tumblers, named for their place of origin and for a midflight maneuver they perform. Beautiful, with amber eyes and feather-duster feet, these birds are champions and have won national awards for their owner.
Raising pigeons is not Jeff’s whole life, then. It’s a hobby, one he began with his dad’s help when he was about seven years old. At first they were just pets to him. But then he became more serious about raising birds for competition and got some West of England tumblers. When he was ten, a young bird he had raised was judged champion of all breeds at the two-state Oklahoma-Arkansas fair, and Jeff came home with a two-foot-tall trophy. When he was 11, Jeff went with his parents to the national show in Peoria, Illinois. There, competing among thousands of entries, against breeders far older and more experienced, Jeff took first place in his category with one of his birds. He was by far the youngest national winner ever. Another trophy and stories in the hometown papers.
You find yourself wondering how all of this fits together—school, priesthood, basketball, pigeons. Then you remember something Jeff’s dad told you:
The judges at competitions have a list of standards that they compare each bird against. They look at things like coloring, markings, the way the wings lie, the length of the muffs on the feet, etc. “Jeff has a copy of those standards,” says his father, James Vines, “and I’ve tried to teach him what to look for. He’s picked it up very well, compares his birds to the standard, and keeps the birds with the qualities he wants passed along to their offspring. Jeff has brought them a long way in a brief time.” In other words, Jeff has learned to recognize the ideal and to work toward it.

Photograph courtesy of Berry and Light Chu
Berry Chu of the Taipei Taiwan Central Stake needed wisdom beyond her understanding after she made an investment that didn’t turn out well, leaving her with a large debt. The situation briefly paralyzed Berry from moving forward. But Berry humbled herself and sought Heavenly Father in prayer. From that prayer, she gained the courage to tell her husband what had happened. With tenderness and humility, Berry’s husband, Light Tsai, reassured her that they would figure it out and overcome the debt. Together, Light and Berry prayed to seek the Lord’s guidance.
Berry and Light felt they could benefit from the Church’s self-reliance course for personal finances. Despite the overwhelming debt, they developed a repayment plan. With help from the course, they learned to “prioritize tithing and … to manage finances in a godly way,” Berry says. “We also learned to budget and prioritize our expenses for necessities only.”
Not only did Berry and Light learn to budget their income responsibly, but their personal finance group also inspired Berry to switch jobs. The transition led to a higher salary, which she could put toward paying off her debt.
Unified in their goal, Berry and Light used all their bonuses, investments, and extra income from their full- and part-time jobs to pay off Berry’s debt. With the Lord’s help, they covered all their expenses and, most importantly, still paid tithing and gave other offerings.

Six-year-old John sat intently listening in Primary as two missionaries talked to the children about missionary work. They explained that Jesus Christ wants every member of the Church to tell people about His true Church.
The missionaries told the children that they were not too young to be missionaries. They could give a copy of the Book of Mormon to relatives or friends who didn’t belong to the Church. And they could also invite them to church or ask them if they would like to have the missionaries teach them about the gospel.
The missionaries asked the children to think of someone they would like to tell about the true Church. Then they challenged the children to talk to that person about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints that week.
John knew exactly whom he wanted to tell about the Church. He loved Grandma Linford very much and wanted her to know about Jesus Christ’s true Church. Grandma did go to church, but not to the church that John and his family went to. He thought carefully about how to ask Grandma to come to church with him.
A few days later, John and his family drove to Grandma’s house. Grandma greeted John and his two sisters, Rachel and Rebecca, with hugs. Soon everyone was busy talking and helping get dinner ready. John couldn’t wait until after dinner to ask his question; it was too important. He whispered to Grandma: “Could I talk to you alone for a minute? I have a very important question to ask you.”
Wiping her hands and looking deep into John’s eyes, she said: “Of course. Let’s go into the living room.”
As Grandma sat down, John’s heart started pounding. Would Grandma listen to his question? Would she come to church with him? He was trying to do what the missionaries had suggested. He had to be brave enough to tell others about Jesus Christ.
“Grandma, will you come to my church sometime?” John asked.
“Well, Sundays are pretty busy days for Grandpa and me, but we’d be happy to go to your church with you,” Grandma said.
“That’s great,” John said. “We belong to the true Church and I want you and Grandpa to belong to the true Church too. We have a prophet and the Book of Mormon and CTR rings.”
Suddenly, John thought he had said too much because Grandma got tears in her eyes. Then she hugged John, kissed him on the cheek, and thanked him for telling her about his Church and inviting her to come. Before Grandma could get another word out, John asked her if she would read the Book of Mormon and listen to the missionaries.
“You are the best missionary ever,” Grandma said. “I love you so much!” Then she hugged him again. Grandma asked John what ward he went to. John said the Third Ward. Grandma said that she and Grandpa went to the 11th Ward. Grandma asked John what church he belonged to. He said, “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” Grandma said that she and Grandpa belonged to that same church too. John looked confused. Grandma explained that there are thousands of wards all around the world and each one is part of Jesus’s true Church. Not all of Jesus’s followers could fit in one building, but they could all learn His true teachings in a ward where they live. She told John that after dinner they could drive to see the sign in front of her ward building that said “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” It looked just like the sign at John’s ward building.
John hugged Grandma and said, “Oh, Grandma, I’m so thankful that we are both members of Jesus’s true Church!”

At 4:30 A.M. my alarm went off as usual. I reached over and shut it off as I do every morning. I sat up in the dark and asked myself why I do this to myself every morning. After I was done complaining about how stupid early-morning seminary was, I got up and got ready to go.
Just like every day, I arrived five minutes late and sat in a seat in the back row farthest from the teacher. It seemed that lately my testimony had been going down the tubes. Things had not been going right. My grades had been suffering. I thought that if I were living right then everything else in my life should be good too.
As I sat in the back, not listening to the lesson, I began to wonder if the Church was really true. The thought scared me. I was worried that the things I had been taught all my life were wrong. It made me afraid. Right there in class, I started praying mentally to my Father in Heaven for help. I was asking him for help in finding out if the Church was true or not.
By this time, I had totally tuned out of the lesson being taught. Finally seminary was over. My brother and I were getting in my car when I noticed a piece of paper on the windshield. I took it and saw that it was from another church down the street. At first I thought it was an advertisement. I opened the paper and in big bold letters at the top it said, “In Which Shall We Believe?” I began reading it. It was a list of scriptures and quotations from the Book of Mormon and other Church books and leaders that seemed to contradict each other.
We took the paper home to my parents. We went straight to them and told them we got this anti-Mormon flier on our windshield. They read through it. We talked for a few minutes about one of the statements, which Mom helped answer for me. Then my parents put the paper on the desk. We had to leave for school.
A couple of days later, I took the other church’s flier and started reading through it. I started looking up each quotation in the scriptures and in other books. The paper was wrong. I found that the statements did not contradict each other. The people who had prepared the flier had only taken part of the scripture or part of a quotation. This made me remember what one of my Primary teachers had told me. She said, “Read the scriptures as a whole and not a part.”
I knelt down beside my bed and prayed. I asked Heavenly Father if the Church was true and if what I was reading in the Book of Mormon was correct. I said amen and stayed on my knees for a few minutes and listened. When I got up, I was totally energetic. I felt so good and so happy. I knew by how I felt that it was true. That was my answer.
Since that time I have studied the scriptures more. In a funny way I was grateful to those people who had been trying to tear down the Church. I even wrote a letter to the other church thanking them for the flier. I told them they had really helped me a lot with my testimony. Because of them, I was motivated to find out for myself. I found out it was true.

From Yellowstone Park, through Jackson Hole, Wyoming, then on to Kaysville, Utah, by bicycle sounds like quite an undertaking for the 12 Varsity Scouts of the Kaysville Eighth Ward, Kaysville Utah East Stake. And it was. After weeks of discussion between parents, Scouts, and leaders, the five-day, 380-mile trip was officially planned, and the Scouts were ready to get in shape for the trip.
Training for the group was each Tuesday. The first trip to help them get in shape was from Kaysville to Antelope Island and back, a 44-mile trip which took 3 1/2 hours. After recovering from sore muscles, the group made several other test runs, helping build up stamina.
In preparation for the adventure, each Scout made sure his bike was in good condition. Then one summer morning, food and gear were loaded into a pickup truck, the bikes loaded into a trailer, and the group set out for the west gate of Yellowstone, where the bicycle journey was to start.
Bicycling through the mountain passes, sometimes climbing 1,000 feet per hour or fighting strong winds, challenged the Scouts. One day they rode 90 miles. Another day they woke to find a layer of ice on their sleeping bags. They crossed the continental divide four times and passed through countless little towns along the way. Four of the Scouts rode the entire 380 miles; the others each rode at least 250.
Was the trip worth the tired muscles and the long hours of preparation?
The answer is an enthusiastic yes!
“We were really blessed on the trip,” said one of the participants. “The weather was perfect, we didn’t have any bike problems except two flat tires, no accidents or injuries, and we all got along well and grew closer.”
They’re planning their next trip already.