Gospel Story Finder

The story of Sukiman Abraham, who serves as Clementi Branch mission leader, gives us an idea of the challenges unique to Singapore. Sukiman belonged to a non-Christian religion. His parents, who were born in Indonesia, moved to Singapore before World War II. When young, Sukiman attended religious services with his parents and studied his religion.
Although his parents were devout, they allowed Sukiman to attend a school taught by Latter-day Saints. One Saturday, he was playing basketball with some Latter-day Saint players, who invited him to church. He attended the next day. He says, “I learned a little about the restored gospel and received a copy of the Book of Mormon. I started to read it on the way home. I began to take several lessons a week. My father scolded me and threw away my copies of the scriptures. My mother asked me to take some time. After one month, I decided to be baptized.”
Sukiman’s parents asked him to leave. For two months he had no home, until he joined the armed forces. After a while, his parents reconsidered, and his mother asked him to come home. He completed his military service, then worked in shipping. In 1982, his father died. “On his death bed,” Sukiman remembers, “he asked me to take care of my mother, though I was Christian. I became the main support for her and the rest of the family. I wanted to serve a mission, but in my parents’ faith, leaving one’s mother is unfilial. One night in 1985, the answer came to my prayer: ‘Just go, and I will take care of her.’ So I went. The Lord did provide for my family. They were all right when I got back.”
“My mother and I are at peace, and she visits me often. She knows that the gospel has made me a better man and a more obedient son.”

Some time ago, I met with a husband and wife having severe marital problems. When they came in for counseling, the wife described their problems in detail, but the husband said nothing. I tried to get him to talk, but he was sullen and answered every question with only one or two words. His wife always jumped in to give more complete answers.
Finally, I invited her to leave the room, then spoke with him alone. At first, he said very little. But when he found that I gave him time to formulate his answers and that I didn’t interrupt, criticize, or judge him, he began to speak freely.
From that point on, I said little. As the interview came to an end, he seemed relieved. With real feeling he said, “Thanks for listening to me. I have wanted to tell my wife these things for years, but she never wants to hear what I have to say.”
The man had a difficult time formulating and expressing his thoughts, but he showed deep feeling. And he was clearly relieved to finally be able to put those feelings into words. Fortunately, this couple was able to rediscover that they loved each other dearly. Both wanted to build a strong, supportive marriage, and both wanted to do their part.
The husband in our opening example clearly needed someone to listen to him, not someone with whom to discuss his problem. When a person is frustrated by not being heard, the remedy is for someone to listen, not to talk.

Philippe and Chantal had the best grandmère (grandmother) and grandpère (grandfather) in the whole world. Why, what other grandmère and grandpère lived in a magical house—a house with a small cement pool outside where they could go wading and sail toy boats and play pirates? Who else had a house with a secret room halfway up the stairs and halfway down, with shelves full of storybooks, magazines, and old toys?
Philippe and Chantal loved to visit Grandmère and Grandpère. They loved to play in the pool and in the secret room. They helped Grandmère cook, and she took them to the library and to the park, and she taught them how to crochet. They helped Grandpère fix the car, weed the garden, and put puzzles together. Both Grandmère and Grandpère played tennis with Philippe and Chantal and read them stories. Philippe and Chantal had so much fun at their grandparents’ house that they always hated to leave.
One day when Philippe and Chantal arrived for a visit, Grandmère and Grandpère were especially excited to see them. “Guess what!” Grandmère exclaimed, taking their jackets. “Guess what Grandpère and I are going to do!”
“Are you going to travel around the world?” Philippe asked.
“No, but that’s close.”
“Are you going to take a class to learn something new?” Chantal asked.
“No, no, but that’s close too.” Grandpère’s eyes twinkled.
Philippe and Chantal frowned at each other. “We give up.”
“We’re going to be missionaries for the Church!” Grandmère exclaimed proudly.
“Oh, but that means that you’ll go away, and we won’t be able to visit you!” Philippe said sadly.
“I’m glad that you’re going on a mission, but what will happen to your house?” Chantal wiped a tear from her eye.
Grandmère put her arm around Philippe. “We’ll miss both of you very much. But we’ll think about you, and pray for you, and write you letters too. Think of all the mail that you’ll get! Won’t that be fun?”
Grandpère pulled Chantal onto his lap and held her as he rocked back and forth. “And we’ll miss this house and having you come to visit. We’ll have to rent it to someone while we’re gone. But,” he added, “we won’t tell them about the room that’s halfway up the stairs and halfway down. It will be our secret! How about that?”
Philippe and Chantal laughed.
“But, Grandmère, how can you and Grandpère go on a mission if you’ll miss us and the house so much?” Philippe asked, looking puzzled.
“A mission is a special way to serve Heavenly Father,” Grandmère replied. “Not everyone is as blessed as we are to have the gospel. We are such a happy family that we want to show other families how to be happy too.”
“We’ll teach families about Jesus and His gospel,” Grandpère added, “and we’ll share our testimonies and our love with others, just as we have with you.”
“It will be hard to leave you, but we’ve fasted and prayed, and we know that it’s right for us to be missionaries now,” Grandmère explained.
“Oh, Grandmère,” Philippe said, giving her a hug, “I love you. And I guess I can share you and Grandpère with other people who need you.”
Chantal kissed Grandpère on the cheek. “And when we grow up, we want to be missionaries just like you because you’re the best grandpère and grandmère in the whole world!”

As Sister Holland and I recently disembarked at a distant airport, three beautiful young women getting off the same flight hurried up to greet us. They identified themselves as members of the Church, which wasn’t too surprising because those not of our faith usually don’t rush up to us in airports. In a conversation we hadn’t expected, we soon learned through their tears that all three of these women were recently divorced, that in each case their husbands had been unfaithful to them, and in each case the seeds of alienation and transgression had begun with an attraction to pornography.
With that stark introduction to my message today—one it is challenging for me to give—I feel much like Jacob of old, who said, “It grieveth me that I must use so much boldness of speech … before … many … whose feelings are exceedingly tender and chaste and delicate.” But bold we need to be. Perhaps it was the father in me or maybe the grandfather, but the tears in those young women’s eyes brought tears to mine and Sister Holland’s, and the questions they asked left me asking, “Why is there so much moral decay around us, and why are so many individuals and families, including some in the Church, falling victim to it, being tragically scarred by it?”
But, of course, I knew at least part of the answer to my own question. Most days we all find ourselves assaulted by immoral messages of some kind flooding in on us from every angle. The darker sides of the movie, television, and music industry step further and further into offensive language and sexual misconduct. Tragically, the same computer and Internet service that allows me to do my family history and prepare those names for temple work could, without filters and controls, allow my children or grandchildren access to a global cesspool of perceptions that could blast a crater in their brains forever.
Remember that those young wives said their husbands’ infidelity began with an attraction to pornography, but immoral activity is not just a man’s problem, and husbands aren’t the only ones offending. The compromise available at the click of a mouse—including what can happen in a chat room’s virtual encounter—is no respecter of persons, male or female, young or old, married or single. And just to make sure that temptation is ever more accessible, the adversary is busy extending his coverage, as they say in the industry, to cell phones, video games, and MP3 players.
If we stop chopping at the branches of this problem and strike more directly at the root of the tree, not surprisingly we find lust lurking furtively there. Lust is an unsavory word, and it is certainly an unsavory topic for me to address, but there is good reason why in some traditions it is known as the most deadly of the seven deadly sins.
Why is lust such a deadly sin? Well, in addition to the completely Spirit-destroying impact it has upon our souls, I think it is a sin because it defiles the highest and holiest relationship God gives us in mortality—the love that a man and a woman have for each other and the desire that couple has to bring children into a family intended to be forever. Someone said once that true love must include the idea of permanence. True love endures. But lust changes as quickly as it can turn a pornographic page or glance at yet another potential object for gratification walking by, male or female. True love we are absolutely giddy about—as I am about Sister Holland; we shout it from the housetops. But lust is characterized by shame and stealth and is almost pathologically clandestine—the later and darker the hour the better, with a double-bolted door just in case. Love makes us instinctively reach out to God and other people. Lust, on the other hand, is anything but godly and celebrates self-indulgence. Love comes with open hands and open heart; lust comes with only an open appetite.
These are just some of the reasons that prostituting the true meaning of love—either with imagination or another person—is so destructive. It destroys that which is second only to our faith in God—namely, faith in those we love. It shakes the pillars of trust upon which present—or future—love is built, and it takes a long time to rebuild that trust when it is lost. Push that idea far enough—whether it be as personal as a family member or as public as elected officials, business leaders, media stars, and athletic heroes—and soon enough on the building once constructed to house morally responsible societies, we can hang a sign saying, “This property is vacant.”
Whether we be single or married, young or old, let’s talk for a moment about how to guard against temptation in whatever form it may present itself. We may not be able to cure all of society’s ills today, but let’s speak of what some personal actions can be.
Above all, start by separating yourself from people, materials, and circumstances that will harm you. As those battling something like alcoholism know, the pull of proximity can be fatal. So too in moral matters. Like Joseph in the presence of Potiphar’s wife, just run—run as far away as you can get from whatever or whoever it is that beguiles you. And please, when fleeing the scene of temptation, do not leave a forwarding address.
Acknowledge that people bound by the chains of true addictions often need more help than self-help, and that may include you. Seek that help and welcome it. Talk to your bishop. Follow his counsel. Ask for a priesthood blessing. Use the Church’s Family Services offerings or seek other suitable professional help. Pray without ceasing. Ask for angels to help you.
Along with filters on computers and a lock on affections, remember that the only real control in life is self-control. Exercise more control over even the marginal moments that confront you. If a TV show is indecent, turn it off. If a movie is crude, walk out. If an improper relationship is developing, sever it. Many of these influences, at least initially, may not technically be evil, but they can blunt our judgment, dull our spirituality, and lead to something that could be evil. An old proverb says that a journey of a thousand miles begins with one step, so watch your step.
Like thieves in the night, unwelcome thoughts can and do seek entrance to our minds. But we don’t have to throw open the door, serve them tea and crumpets, and then tell them where the silverware is kept! (You shouldn’t be serving tea anyway.) Throw the rascals out! Replace lewd thoughts with hopeful images and joyful memories; picture the faces of those who love you and would be shattered if you let them down. More than one man has been saved from sin or stupidity by remembering the face of his mother, his wife, or his child waiting somewhere for him at home. Whatever thoughts you have, make sure they are welcome in your heart by invitation only. As an ancient poet once said, let will be your reason.
Cultivate and be where the Spirit of the Lord is. Make sure that includes your own home or apartment, dictating the kind of art, music, and literature you keep there. If you are endowed, go to the temple as often as your circumstances allow. Remember that the temple arms you “with [God’s] power, … [puts His] glory … round about [you], and [gives His] angels … charge over [you].” And when you leave the temple, remember the symbols you take with you, never to be set aside or forgotten.
Most people in trouble end up crying, “What was I thinking?” Well, whatever they were thinking, they weren’t thinking of Christ. Yet, as members of His Church, we pledge every Sunday of our lives to take upon ourselves His name and promise to “always remember him.” So let us work a little harder at remembering Him—especially that He has “borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows … , [that] he was bruised for our iniquities … ; and with his stripes we are healed.” Surely it would guide our actions in a dramatic way if we remembered that every time we transgress, we hurt not only those we love, but we also hurt Him, who so dearly loves us. But if we do sin, however serious that sin may be, we can be rescued by that same majestic figure, He who bears the only name given under heaven whereby any man or woman can be saved. When confronting our transgressions and our souls are harrowed up with true pain, may we all echo the repentant Alma and utter his life-changing cry: “O Jesus, thou Son of God, have mercy on me.”
Brothers and sisters, I love you. President Thomas S. Monson and the Brethren love you. Far more importantly, your Father in Heaven loves you. I have tried to speak today of love—real love, true love, respect for it, the proper portrayal of it in the wholesome societies mankind has known, the sanctity of it between a married man and woman, and the families that love ultimately creates. I’ve tried to speak of the redeeming manifestation of love, charity personified, which comes to us through the grace of Christ Himself. I have of necessity also spoken of el diablo, the diabolical one, the father of lies and lust, who will do anything he can to counterfeit true love, to profane and desecrate true love wherever and whenever he encounters it. And I have spoken of his desire to destroy us if he can.
When we face such temptations in our time, we must declare, as young Nephi did in his, “[I will] give place no more for the enemy of my soul.” We can reject the evil one. If we want it dearly and deeply enough, that enemy can and will be rebuked by the redeeming power of the Lord Jesus Christ. Furthermore, I promise you that the light of His everlasting gospel can and will again shine brightly where you feared life had gone hopelessly, helplessly dark. May the joy of our fidelity to the highest and best within us be ours as we keep our love and our marriages, our society and our souls, as pure as they were meant to be, I pray in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

My mom is a great example to me and takes time to help me learn how to clean and cook better. She also tries to help me sew. When I came in last during a race, she showed me the scripture in Ether 12:27 to help me realize that Heavenly Father loves me despite my weaknesses. She teaches us about loving our family when she reads to us and gathers us all around her. Because of her, we like to be together as a family.

Another time a difficulty had developed between members of a branch. “I thought it a very insignificant affair. When we had assembled I opened the meeting with prayer, and then called upon a number of those present to pray; they did so, and the Spirit of God rested upon us. I could perceive that a good feeling existed in the hearts of those who had come to present their grievances, and I told them to bring forward their case. But they said that they had not anything to bring forward. The feelings and spirit they had been in possession of had left them, the Spirit of God had obliterated these feelings out of their hearts, and they knew it was right for them to forgive one another.”

One day when President Hinckley was about five years old, he was sitting on his front porch with some friends. A family of another race walked down the street in front of the house. Young Gordon and his friends made some unkind remarks about the people. His mother heard what they said, and she took them inside to talk with them. She told them that all people are sons and daughters of God. That day he learned that we must respect and help one another, regardless of race, religion, wealth, or anything else.

One priesthood leader in South America was burdened by the hunger and deprivation of the members of his little stake. Unwilling to allow the children to suffer in hunger, he found an empty plot of land and organized the priesthood to cultivate and plant it. They found an old horse and hooked up a primitive plow and began working the ground. But before they could finish, tragedy struck and the old horse died.
Rather than allow their brothers and sisters to suffer hunger, the brethren of the priesthood strapped the old plow to their own backs and pulled it through the unforgiving ground. They literally took upon themselves the yoke of the suffering and burdens of their brothers and sisters.11

My wife and I have tried to teach the values of work and service to our children. All seven sons—one was a foster child who came to live with us when he was a teenager—and our daughter worked at my lumber company as they were growing up. And one of the Christmas traditions that we started many years ago is still carried out each year by the entire family, including grandchildren: On the Monday before each Christmas, we take homebaked gifts and visit old friends and the widows in the neighborhood where I grew up.

At one time, Ben, Jr., and Brad, my two oldest boys, belonged to a Japanese Scout troop because our ward didn’t have a Scout troop. One day the Scoutmaster took the boys on a hike in the Zion Narrows in southern Utah. Their progress was slower than anticipated. Concerned that the park officials whom they had checked in with would be worried about them, the Scoutmaster asked my sons and a couple of other boys to hike ahead by themselves and let the park officials know that everyone was OK. The boys took a wrong turn into a dead-end canyon and didn’t know what to do. The other boys were not Latter-day Saints, but they turned to Ben and said, “Maybe you’re the one who ought to pray for us to help us get out of here.” After he offered a prayer, Ben said, “Let’s go,” and they turned and walked out without any problem. How grateful I was that my children had learned to pray, that they had faith in that prayer, and that our Father in Heaven would help them find their way safely out of the canyon.

My message to children is: Follow the counsel of your parents, and know how much they love you. Know the value of having good friends. Choose good friends with the same high standards and values that you have.

I want to share a story from one of my daughters from her freshman year at BYU. She said:

During my freshman year at BYU, I was assigned what was then called a visiting teacher from my ward. This sister came and introduced herself to me my first day at church. We made small talk for a little bit with get-to-know-you questions like favorite drinks and foods, hobbies, etc. I didn’t think much of the conversation and went throughout the semester with occasional texts from this sister to check in and an occasional drop-by to share a message.

Finals week came, and I remember feeling completely overwhelmed. I was spending hours and hours in the library each day studying and was ending each day exhausted. I remember in these hours feeling alone and unimportant.

I came home one night after a long night in the library to find a bottle of apple juice and a handwritten note next to my door. I picked up the note. It was from my visiting sister. The card read something like “I hope you are doing okay during finals! You have been on my mind all week, and I wanted to find a way to serve you but knew you were busy and wouldn’t be home much. I remembered that when we talked that first Sunday, you told me your favorite drink was apple juice. It’s not much, but hopefully it’s enough to get you through the next few days! I love you!”

In reality, this was a small gesture, but to me it spoke volumes to God’s power to answer our prayers. I’m grateful that sister was so Christ centered that she was able to forget her own finals-week stresses to serve me.

For the past three years the name of “Bob Gunther” had appeared on seminary rolls, yet no one had ever seen him at any Church meeting.
Just who is this Bob Gunther then? The seminary students from the San Lorenzo wards in California could tell you. At the beginning of each seminary year for the past few years, the students had signed the name of Bob Gunther to the roll as a practical joke. This joke led to what is now known as “The Bob Gunther Story.”
Early one Monday morning Neal Jarecki, a 16-year-old boy, was on his way to school. To Neal this was just another normal school day, but unknown to him, it was a day that would change the rest of his life. Neal was going to school early this particular morning to meet a girl he knew—Kim Spier, a Latter-day Saint.
When Neal arrived at school, he found Kim with a group of LDS girls studying in the library. He asked them why they were always at school so early, and they proceeded to tell him about seminary. Suddenly a voice from among the girls said, “Hey, we can get Neal to be Bob Gunther!”
Neal just stood there, not knowing what was happening, and said, “What?” The girls then told Neal that they would like him to play the part of Bob Gunther, an imaginary person who had been enrolled in seminary for the last few years. After asking a few questions about what he would have to do at seminary, Neal finally agreed to be part of this practical joke. As the day went on, though, Neal began to have second thoughts and wondered what he was getting himself into.
During the afternoon Neal received a phone call from Kim and Marlene from the seminary class, asking him if they could drop off some Church books for him to read. He said yes, so at 5:30 P.M. Kim and Marlene dropped by Neal’s home to give him a half dozen pamphlets, a Book of Mormon, a Doctrine and Covenants, a Pearl of Great Price, Gospel Principles, and one volume of Church history. Neal’s mouth dropped open, and he said, “I still have to do my homework this evening.”
He finished his homework as quickly as possible that evening. Then a thought flashed through his mind. “If I’m going to seminary tomorrow, the teacher is going to be suspicious, so I’ll need some proof of identification.” Neal hurriedly went over to the public library and purchased a library card with the official name “Robert Neal Gunther” printed on it. The rest of the evening Neal studied as much Mormon literature as he possibly could. But he really didn’t absorb too much because there were too many facts going into his mind in such a short period of time.
Tuesday morning came early as Kim drove over to pick up Neal for seminary. Many students in the class knew Neal, so she told as many as possible before the teacher arrived that Neal was playing the part of Bob Gunther. Finally Neal was introduced to Brother Mike Danielson, the seminary teacher. Only Brother Danielson didn’t believe he was Bob Gunther at all. He even had a good laugh when he was shown the library card.
Now that the climax of the joke was over for Neal, it was just a matter of sitting through the class. And the lesson that day, from the book of Daniel in the Old Testament, really sparked Neal’s interest. It ended with Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego being cast into the fiery furnace under orders from King Nebuchadnezzar. Brother Danielson told them that the next day in class they would find out what happened to Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. Neal decided to come again the following day to find out what happened.
Early Wednesday morning Neal showed up at seminary like he said he would, and from then on, Neal went to seminary every morning. It wasn’t long before Neal was asked if he would like the missionaries to come to his home and teach him about the Church. He agreed, and on a Friday two elders taught him the first lesson. Approximately two weeks later, Neal was baptized and confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Today Neal is an active priest and a strong member of the San Lorenzo Second Ward in California.
What started off as a simple, practical joke by a group of seminary students ended with a young man’s membership in the Savior’s true church. The nonexistent “Bob Gunther” had developed into a fine missionary.

A close personal friend learned this crucial lesson as an 18-year-old. He enlisted in the United States military during the conflict between the United States and Vietnam. He was assigned to basic training in the infantry to become a foot soldier. He explained that the training was grueling. He described his drill instructor as cruel and inhumane.

One particular day his squad was dressed in full battle gear, hiking in sweltering heat. The drill instructor suddenly shouted orders to drop to the ground and not move. The instructor was watching for even the slightest motion. Any movement would result in serious consequences later on. The squad suffered for more than two hours in the heat with growing anger and resentment toward their leader.

Many months later our friend found himself leading his squad through the jungles of Vietnam. This was real, not just training. Shots began to ring from high in the surrounding trees. The entire squad immediately dropped to the ground.

What was the enemy looking for? Movement. Any motion at all would draw fire. My friend said that as he lay sweating and motionless on the jungle floor, waiting for dark for several long hours, his thoughts reflected back on basic training. He remembered his intense dislike for his drill instructor. Now he felt intense gratitude—for what he had taught him and how he had prepared him for this critical situation. The drill instructor had wisely equipped our friend and his squad with the ability to know what to do when the battle was raging. He had, in effect, saved our friend’s life.

“I have a great respect for nature, and I have always loved animals and birds and have tried to protect them. Once when we were youngsters, a friend of mine and I were riding double on a horse along the railroad track. Suddenly I spied an owl that had a broken wing and couldn’t do anything but run along the ground. I slid off the horse, caught the owl, and got back on the horse behind my friend. I remember that it was a beautiful white horse with a long mane. We started galloping along the railroad track, and the owl started to wiggle. It stuck its claws into that horse, causing it to jump straight into the air and make a big kick. I rolled off backward, but somehow I kept my hold on the owl, and it never got away. We took the owl home, put splints on its broken wing, and turned it loose.

“My wife and I have had a wonderful experience in the Pacific Islands. One day we went to a little Tahitian island on a boat, and as the boat pulled up to the dock, twenty-seven children were standing on it, singing, ‘I Am A Child of God.’ I thought, What a beautiful, beautiful thing to know that children all over the world are singing the hymns of the Church and beautiful Primary songs.

“Heavenly Father loves all children. Jesus loves them, too—children of all countries, colors, and creeds.

“Live the principles of the gospel so that you can live again with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. Listen to the counsel of the prophets. Stay pure and clean after your baptism. Your parents and Primary teachers will teach you the things that you should do. Listen to them and do what they tell you.”

About a year ago I had new tires put on my car. I soon heard a new sound as I drove. It wasn’t very loud and it wasn’t consistent, so I assumed it was due to the road, which was under construction. However, the noise continued, and so I brought the car back to the garage. They assured me it was just the new tires. I was relieved to hear this and drove away again, ignoring the sound. Over time the noise seemed to get a bit louder, but I unconsciously just turned up the radio a bit more, ignored the noise, and went on my way.

Months later I was in Salt Lake City picking up several friends to go to a concert. As the first friend got into my car, she immediately heard the sound and asked what was wrong with my car. I replied that nothing was wrong—did she hear something? (That tells you how much I had tuned out the sound.) She heard it loud and clear, as did the others in the car.

I brought my car to the garage the next day and was told the noise was due to an abnormal rubbing that had caused major damage. It was a dangerous situation that needed immediate repair. I thought back on the miles I had driven and how I had learned to completely tune out what became a very loud noise.

I still can’t believe I had been able to tune it out. I realize it was quite crazy! I wonder what else in my life I had “tuned out” simply because I was too busy or distracted by other things in life—because I did not stop and listen.

Once upon a time a family went on a camping trip. Along the way, they got lost in the forest and ended up at the wrong camp.
“What a funny name,” Dad said, reading the sign.
Welcome to Camp ____________________ (adjective) ___________________ (animal).
“We made it!” Mom said. “I’m so glad we’re done __________________ (verb ending in ‘ing’). I thought we’d be stuck in our _________________ (noun) forever!”
“Yeah,” Joe said. “I’m so ___________________ (adjective) I could eat a ________________ (noun).
They soon found out that this camp wasn’t what they expected. The cabins were made out of large ______________________ (type of food), and the lake was full of ______________________ (favorite soda or juice).
“Let’s go fishing!” Rachel said. They went to the lake with their poles and caught lots of ___________________ (adjective) ______________________ (plural noun) for dinner.
Later that night, the camp host stopped by and told them a campfire story. It was about ________ (number)-eyed Pete, a sneaky pirate who liked to steal ____________________ (item of clothing, plural) when campers weren’t looking and sew them into sails for his __________________ (adjective) pirate ship.
That night the family slept to the sound of _____________________ (large animal, plural) chirping in the trees. In the morning they woke up, ate breakfast, and went for a ______________________ (verb) through the ____________________ (adjective) forest.
“This is the silliest vacation ever!” Joe said. “But I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“Me neither,” said Rachel. “Now let’s grab our fishing poles. I want to catch some more ________________ (plural noun)!"

How do you cope? I know a woman who is noted for her smile. Her good cheer is rarely daunted. I asked her how she managed it with all the irritations she has had in life, and she told me this: As a child she had been taking an important letter to her father, who stood just behind a barbed-wire fence. In her eagerness to get there she ran toward him and tripped, and she fell against the fence, cutting her face deeply from the forehead down through the cheek. It left a permanent scar, and the scar was mistaken for a frown and grouchiness. She said, “I couldn’t have the world think I have nothing but a frown to give, so I had to smile that frown away.”

I became good friends with a girl named Julia. We decided to be “buddies” at girls camp. Even though I don’t like camping or hiking very much, I really enjoyed the entire experience. There was a different feeling at this camp. Our counselors made a special effort to see that we were having a good time and that everyone was included in all the activities we participated in. During the week, we had devotionals, a nature walk to learn about different plants, a first-aid class, and campfire skits. There was also a service project that everyone in the camp happily participated in. In fact, the service project table was always crowded with volunteers. All through the week there was a sense of organization, cooperation, and friendship.
On Saturday morning, the last day, everyone got together around the campfire, and whoever wanted to stood up and told the others of their testimony of the Church and expressed their gratitude for their family, friends, and what a great and memorable experience they had at camp. Most of them cried while they talked, and I cried along with them. I was surprised to see my sister go up on stage. She said how happy she was to come to this Church and how thankful she was for her family, especially me. That was one of the first times she had ever expressed her love for me as her sister. Once she sat down, I got up and sat next to her. I told her how grateful I was for what she said, and we cried together. We really made a special connection.

In the warm glow of an early spring twilight, they climbed to the second floor of the Ben E. Rich building for their final testimony meeting. It was a meeting they had looked forward to for eight weeks, but now they had mixed feelings. Tomorrow they would fly away to a land where bananas and oranges really grew. They were eager and ready, but a little solemn as well.
They file into the room. Elder Anthony and Elder Eckhart, his companion. Elder Eckhart loved surfing. They have great surf in Peru. Elder Eckhart won’t be trying it out. Elder Kirby and Elder Sakavitch. For the first few weeks they didn’t like each other. Now they’re the best of friends. Another small miracle. Elder Gibson and Elder Hancock. Elder Gibson feels that he has been granted the gift of charity in the MTC. Elder Hancock didn’t plan on a mission, until an inspired returned missionary led him by example. Sister Dunn and Sister Carree. Sister Dunn has had experience teaching children. She says it helps her help the elders. Sister Carree is from Reims, France. She came speaking no Spanish or English. Now she speaks Spanish beautifully. Sister Steele and Sister Ellis. Sister Steele is a nurse. She says open-heart surgery doesn’t change hearts nearly so much as the MTC does. Sister Ellis likes to watch people grow. She’s had an eyeful here. Elder Bishop and Sister Smithson come too. They are as much a part of the district as the missionaries. There’s even an interpreter for Sister Carree so that she can speak in French.
The elders from the district are all going to the Peru Lima North Mission. Sisters Ellis and Steel are going to Honduras. Sister Carree is going to Ecuador. Sister Dunn is going to the Dominican Republic. The sisters all have an additional assignment in welfare services and are looking forward to strengthening the members as well as bringing new converts to the truth.
Sister Smithson speaks first. “I want each of you to know that I really do love you. I’m proud of you. … Dedicate yourselves to the Lord. Turn your lives over to him. … Remember what you’re teaching. It’s not the discussions. You’re teaching people. You’re teaching souls. You’re teaching your Father in Heaven’s children. … I hope if I’ve taught you anything it’s how to teach with the Spirit.”
They all nod their heads. This is the one thing they have all learned at the MTC. With the Spirit of the Lord they can do anything. Time after time they have achieved the impossible with his guidance. Other times, when they tried to do it alone, they have all fallen flat on their faces. They have learned to recognize the influence of the Holy Ghost, because they have needed it almost every moment of every day. They know now that they really didn’t come here to learn Spanish. That was important, but not all-important. They came here to learn the language of the Spirit. Words alone, however eloquent, could not contain everything that was in their hearts to share with those they would teach. They had to get beyond words to the one language that could express all truth.
They begin bearing their testimonies, and a strange thing happens. They are speaking in their native tongues for a change, but words somehow come hard. Still, the room echoes warmly with their new language, their real language, the real language of all mankind. They are speaking fluently in the language of the Spirit. One by one, they bear testimony of the Father and the Son, of the rich outpouring they have experienced of the gift of the Holy Ghost, of their love for one another and their sureness that they have been called of God. The MTC months have been a joyful time of unprecedented growth. They are not boys and girls now but men and women, and there is strength in them. Earlier, in sacrament meeting, they had given their farewell addresses. They spoke in Spanish, and they spoke with fluent authority on gospel principles. The Spanish may not have been flawless, but it was powerful. No one who heard them could doubt that he was listening to servants of God and messengers of truth. They are going to teach a people they love with all their hearts. It is a people they have never met, but for the last two months they have worked and prayed and struggled and sometimes even cried for the sake of that people. Love, the fruit of service, has been their harvest.
The next morning they carried their luggage out the same doors they had first entered two months since. This time it wasn’t quite such a struggle. Like the pioneers before them, they had found it necessary to lighten their load. Many a precious, unnecessary possession had already been shipped home.
The hills were green with spring, but the Jauja district was flying away beyond the equator to where fall was just beginning. In 16 months when spring paints the slopes of the Andes, they will return to greet another autumn at home. If a record of such things is kept in heaven, it will show that the great district of Jauja has sacrificed one precious summer to go and answer the Lord’s call. But the thought has probably not even occurred to them. And if it did they would only laugh. They are not counting costs. They carry with them in their hearts a light brighter than the sunshine of many summers.
So if you’re driving by Provo on a Thursday morning and see a carful of moms and dads and sisters and brothers and one white-knuckled young man in a conservative suit, you might just want to pull in behind and follow him. He’s headed in the right direction.

I was an average Latter-day Saint in high school. I was involved in sports and music and Boy Scouts. And I was quite interested in music. I played the drums in band, and my favorite kind of music at the time was punk rock. I used to practice drumming to CDs until the day came when I formed my own band with three nonmember friends.
Our band started innocently enough. Soon we became quite popular around town, which led us to believe we were the best. I soon found myself skipping Church functions to practice. Then I began ditching church on Sundays to play. During this time we got a phone call from a band we idolized. Members of that band said they saw us play, thought we were good, and offered to help us record our first CD. This sounded too good to be true. We were on our way to the top, and my commitment to the Church dwindled even more. I hardly attended, and I didn’t associate with my LDS friends anymore. I was slipping away.
As the months went on, our band grew more popular, and I quit going to church all together. I started partying all the time and hanging out with a bad crowd. I got to meet every music hero I had. I traveled throughout the United States and Canada. You could walk into any music store and find our CDs on the racks. I thought it was great! If God didn’t want me to be doing this, I rationalized, He wouldn’t have allowed the band to get so big. In the band, I didn’t have to have an outside job; all I had to do was play. We made enough money from our playing to live.
During my four years of playing with the band, I became really unhappy. I didn’t have any direction in life. I was lacking something. I hadn’t stepped inside a church for four years, and I didn’t have a clue about my beliefs anymore. I was really living a life of sin. Serving a mission was the last place I thought I would end up.
The band was on tour, finishing the last couple of shows before we went home. The moment when everything changed for me came in Portland, Oregon, on our way to a show. I was sitting in the passenger seat of our tour van. I was a little homesick, and it was a gray day, raining as it often does in Oregon. We pulled up to a stoplight, and, out of the corner of my eye, I saw two figures in trench coats standing there. There were two missionaries standing on the corner waiting to cross the street. They didn’t notice me, but they must have been sharing a joke because they were smiling and laughing even though it was a miserable day. Before I knew it, I found tears streaming down my cheeks, just like the rain running down the window of our van. These two elders had something about them—a “glow” if you want to call it that. I felt they had what I was looking for.
As I was watching them and trying to conceal my tears from the other band members, I suddenly felt something familiar. I felt the Spirit of the Lord strong within me. I knew what I had been missing. I realized I hadn’t had Heavenly Father or Jesus Christ in my life for five years! This was my wake-up call.
I was very confused about what to do. So I did something I should have done sooner. I got on my knees one night in my apartment and prayed to my Heavenly Father for help. Help came in the form of great Church leaders who worked with me through my repentance.
I quit the band, came back to the Church, and served as a second counselor in the presidency of my young single adult branch. Now at the age of 23, I’m devoting the next two years of my life to serving a mission. Those two missionaries in Portland will never know that just by being there, happy to serve their missions, they helped turn around the life of a desperate person. They didn’t speak a word to me, but their example changed me forever.
God lives and He answers prayers, sometimes on a street corner in Portland in the rain.

Another young woman decided that one of the stakes in her life was to observe the Sabbath, regardless of her circumstances. One year after she was baptized a member of the Church with her family, her ward was divided. Her family was assigned to the newly formed ward, and she was the only young woman in the new ward. Her parents resisted the change and stopped attending church, but she wanted to follow the guidelines in For the Strength of Youth on “Sabbath Day Observance.” She decided to go to church in the new ward whenever she could, even though it meant attending all of her meetings alone.
On Sundays she read her scriptures and worked on Personal Progress. Her decision to be “steadfast and immovable” in observing the Sabbath encouraged her mother and younger sister to begin attending church again. Her mother testified that her daughter’s steadfast example of living the gospel and her goodness helped them return to activity.