Gospel Story Finder

Why me? Why now? I had just gotten back from competing in a major horse show held in California and was at the height of my hunter-jumper equestrian riding abilities. I was busy with school, piano lessons, and Beehives. I was doing everything I had been taught to do, and I thought that my life was about as perfect as life can ever get. Then it changed.
I was now in a hospital bed, too sick to even open my eyes. I had been diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia. My illness came just four years after my mom died from a similar cancer. I was on heavy chemotherapy to get rid of the cancer, and the doctors were saying that I would have to undergo chemotherapy for two and a half years to make sure that all the cancer was gone. I couldn’t understand why me and why now.
I soon learned that being diagnosed with cancer was not the only challenge I would face. One of the drugs used to treat leukemia is a steroid given at extremely high doses. It is very effective at killing the leukemia cells, but there is a small risk that it can result in avascular necrosis (a condition in which bones die near the joints), particularly in teenage girls. My doctors thought that, at 12 years old, I was too young for that to happen. However, within one month of my starting chemotherapy, the steroids ended up destroying most of my major joints and parts of my spine. I was living in constant pain. Four months after I was diagnosed with leukemia, I had my first hip surgery to begin trying to repair the damage done by the steroids and to lessen the pain. The surgery did not go as well as I had hoped, and my orthopedic surgeon told me that I would probably never ride a horse again. All of a sudden, the future I had planned was gone.
I was a good student, and I really enjoyed school. Now I couldn’t go to school or even out in public because the chemotherapy had destroyed my immune system. Instead, I stayed home with my stepmother. At this point I thought things were pretty bad, but they got worse.
Six months after my hip surgery, I had to have another hip surgery because the first one hadn’t worked. I was in a wheelchair because it hurt too much to walk. I was absolutely sure that I wasn’t going to ride horses again, and now I was worried if I would even be able to walk again. Living life sick, in constant pain, and confined to a wheelchair didn’t sound like a lot of fun to me.
I was praying to my Heavenly Father, and I know many other people were praying for me also. Through all of my trials, I prayed that I would be healed, that my joints would recover, and that I wouldn’t have to go through the rest of chemotherapy. I felt that my prayers weren’t being answered because I still had to go to Primary Children’s Medical Center in Salt Lake City every week for more chemotherapy. I still hurt. And I was still stuck in a wheelchair. At one point, I started to think that my parents were crazy for believing in a God who wouldn’t even listen to a poor little sick girl.
Years before, I had gone through a similar trial of my faith when I prayed for my mom to get better. She was on oxygen all the time and was too weak to even walk around the house. I prayed and hoped and prayed some more that she would miraculously be healed. However, she wasn’t. After she died, I learned that we can pray for what we want all that we want to, but we need to pray for the right things—praying that the Lord’s will be done—to have our prayers answered.
Remembering this lesson, I changed my prayers from “Please heal me” to “Heavenly Father, I would really like to be done with these trials, but I will accept Thy will.” As soon as I changed my prayers, I found that I was able to handle the chemotherapy more easily, and I had a better attitude. That was just the beginning of the blessings and the answers to my prayers and questions.
My dad and grandfather gave me many priesthood blessings. Whenever I had to go in for surgery, I would ask for a blessing. The blessings helped me and my family feel calm about the procedure. One time I had a high fever, and we had to go to the hospital. I received a blessing from my dad and a neighbor before we left. By the time we pulled up at the emergency room door, my fever was gone, and I didn’t have to stay the night in the hospital. I know that priesthood power is a gift from a loving Heavenly Father.
One moment that will always stand out in my mind was the day I came home from the hospital after I was diagnosed with leukemia. The young women and Relief Society sisters had moved my stuff from the basement into a room on the main floor so I would be closer to my parents and wouldn’t have to use the stairs. They had cleaned and decorated the room to make a great place for me to live while I was sick. My family was the recipient of many other service projects. In the beginning, it was hard for me to accept service. When people would do service for me, it would make me feel like I couldn’t do anything for myself. However, I soon learned that it was OK to ask for help. When I started feeling better, I began looking for opportunities to serve other people more. Now I try to serve as much as I can. I get a good feeling when I serve other people. I have come to realize that by letting other people serve me, I allow them the same good feelings.
I have learned to think more about the future and my choices because I was so close to death. At school, I heard girls complaining about how they were having a “bad hair day.” As I was sitting there in my hot pink wheelchair with a wig on my head, I would think, “Well at least you have hair!” Girls would also complain about their feet hurting from walking around in high heels. I would think to myself, “At least you can walk.” Now I try to focus more on the big picture instead of the small things I used to worry about.
Over the past few years I have learned many other things through the blessings of having leukemia and the complications from chemotherapy. I have become closer to my Heavenly Father. My testimony has grown. And I have learned what is truly important. I have learned to appreciate all of the small things that people do for me. I am now in remission, in less pain, and gradually getting back some of the use of my joints. As I continue to heal, the blessings and learning experiences keep coming.
So why me? Why now? I don’t ask those questions anymore because I grew spiritually during my trials. I have discovered who I really am because the Lord loved me enough to let me experience adversity and the blessings that can come with it.
Note: Elizabeth is in remission and recently passed her third anniversary of being off chemotherapy. Her joints are healing, and she is no longer in a wheelchair. While there is still a risk for a relapse, Elizabeth doesn’t think about it. Instead, as a freshman in college, she is focused on studying for tests and practicing the oboe and English horn.

Armando and Claudia Galíndez of the Estrella Ward, México City México Churubusco Stake, are examples. A lawyer, he also owns a company that offers employee training to businesses. Sister Galíndez, trained in tourism management, works with him in his company. Successful in Mexico, Brother Galíndez resists the lure of greater prosperity to the north. Though he might be able to establish a business in the United States, he chooses to stay in Mexico to help build up the Church. He says he wants to help fulfill President Spencer W. Kimball’s dream of the roles of members in Mexican society (see “President Kimball’s Dream,” p. 36).

Even before their marriage, Armando and Claudia made gospel-centered goals for themselves and their family. Brother Galíndez uses a number of gospel-based principles in the training he offers, including this one: “The only thing we need to do to move from ordinary to extraordinary is to understand who we are.”

As in other areas of the world, there are members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Mexico who drift away weeks or years after baptism, some never to return. Yet priesthood leaders who have followed President Gordon B. Hinckley’s counsel—making sure that every member has a friend, a responsibility in the Church, and spiritual nourishment with the word of God—say it is very effective in reaching out and bringing back many who are not enjoying the blessings of full activity. And some members return on their own when a spiritual whisper or insight reminds them of how much the gospel has to offer.

Yolanda Elsie Díaz de Vega of the Jardines Ward, Guadalajara México Reforma Stake, recalls staying up late to study the gospel with her husband after they were baptized in 1979: “It was as though we hungered for the scriptures.” But after seven months as a member of the Church, she felt that she was criticized unfairly by an older member and that she could not go to the next meeting. For four years the Vegas did not go to church—until concern for the blessings their family was missing led them back.

The Vegas have been active for many years now, sharing strength with their family, their ward, and their neighbors. There have been great blessings in learning how to be a better couple and in serving others, Brother Vega says. The gospel “changed our way of thinking, our way of living.” Their children have grown up learning and living the gospel, and now grandchildren are enjoying the same spiritual opportunities through Church activity. “I’m proud of our children because we’ve never had to worry about people knowing we are members of the Church,” Sister Vega says. Their four children respond that they live the way they do because of parental example.

Eleven-year-old Samuel Briones of the Primavera Ward, Guadalajara México Moctezuma Stake, helped interest his schoolteacher in the gospel by inviting her to the open house for the Guadalajara temple. After her visit, she began meeting with the missionaries. The man who taught karate to Samuel and his 12-year-old brother, José Julio, became interested in the gospel because of his association with the two boys; he was baptized and now serves as stake executive secretary.

“Many are looking for the truth, but they don’t know where it is,” says the boys’ father, also José Julio. It is easy to share beliefs with people when we, as members, are attentive enough to the Holy Ghost to know their need, Brother Briones says. His wife, Josefina, learned that the seeds we plant may take time to sprout, then grow quickly. She had shared her beliefs with one couple who seemed ready to listen but declined her invitations to attend Church meetings because of conflicts in their schedule. When they finally were able to attend with her, even she was surprised at how readily and quickly they accepted the gospel.

Mauro Gil of Mérida, who served as president of the México Torreón Mission from 1999 to 2002, says the example of members is probably the major factor in the reception missionaries receive. Reflecting on the influence of exemplary members, he says, “I think the gospel is going to make a greater nation of Mexico.” He has witnessed steady progress in the lives of members in the Yucatán Peninsula over the past 20 years not only spiritually but also temporally as they have obeyed principles of the gospel, including the law of tithing.

The temples in Mexico, he says, are just one visible symbol of the blossoming and growth among members. “They are going to bless the lives of people. They are going to bless our children.”

After church one Sunday, I took home some pass-along cards. I had some friends at school who weren’t LDS, and I wanted to give them a card the next day. That night I started to feel nervous, so I got on my knees and said a prayer. I felt better and braver, and the next day I gave the cards to my friends. They really liked them, and I felt very happy that I gave the cards to them.
Ava M., age 8, Utah, USA

The Prophet was not averse to introspection, even when prompted by scurrilous tales. Stories about Joseph, many of them twisted or blatantly false, circulated constantly. Yet the Prophet said,
When I have heard of a story about me, I sit down and think about it and pray about it, and I ask myself the question, “Did I say something or was there something about my manner to give some basis for that story to start?” And . . . often if I think about it long enough I realize I have done something to give that basis. And there wells up in me a forgiveness of the person who has told that story, and a resolve that I will never do that thing again.[33]

Such a fracture developed between two heroes of the Restoration of the Church of Jesus Christ in these latter days. Parley and Orson Pratt were brothers, early converts, and ordained Apostles. Each faced a trial of faith but came through with an unshakable testimony. Both sacrificed and contributed greatly for the cause of truth.

During the Nauvoo era, their relationship became strained, culminating in a heated, public confrontation in 1846. A deep and prolonged rift developed. Parley initially wrote to Orson to resolve the rift, but Orson did not reply. Parley gave up, feeling that correspondence was over forever, unless initiated by Orson.1

Several years later, in March 1853, Orson learned about a project to publish a book on the descendants of William Pratt, the brothers’ earliest American ancestor. Orson began to weep “like a little child” as he glimpsed this treasure trove of family history. His heart melted, and he determined to repair the breach with his brother.

Orson wrote to Parley, “Now my dear brother, there are none among all the descendants of our Ancestor, Lieut[enant] William Pratt, who have so deep an interest in searching out his descendants as ourselves.” Orson was one of the first to understand that Latter-day Saints have an obligation to research and compile family histories so that we can perform vicarious ordinances for our ancestors. His letter continued: “We know that the God of our fathers has had a hand in all this. … I will beg pardon for having been so backward in writing to you. … I hope you will forgive me.”2 Despite their unshakable testimonies, their love for their ancestors was the catalyst to heal a rift, mend a hurt, and seek and extend forgiveness.3

When God directs us to do one thing, He often has many purposes in mind. Family history and temple work is not only for the dead but blesses the living as well. For Orson and Parley, it turned their hearts to each other. Family history and temple work provided the power to heal that which needed healing.

At 92 years old, Sister Marie Giles is a shining example of unwavering faith, commitment and service.
During the lockdown, she has sewn scrub bags and masks, knitted hats for Syrian refugees, baby hats and blankets for Poole Maternity Unit and gloves for the homeless. She has also contributed food for Hope for Food, a local organisation which serves the vulnerable and homeless in the community. She has made meals for the missionaries, cakes, pickles, jams and lemon curd for ward members and for those to whom she ministers.
Sister Giles also cares for her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. She has recently organised a temple week for her family who are spread out over three continents. Realising that they can’t presently attend the temple, she has arranged for a week of daily temple/family history activities. This will start with a virtual fireside to introduce and motivate all the members of the family, including of course, the young great-grandchildren.
Sister Giles joined the Church, against the wishes of her family who initially disowned her, after being tracted by the missionaries 62 years ago.
Since then, she has served as branch and district Primary president, as a stake Relief Society president, as a stake Young Women president, in the mission Relief Society presidency, as a Relief Society teacher, as a chorister, as a Sunday School teacher, as a visiting teacher and ministering sister, as a family history consultant and for the last thirty years as a temple worker.
Neither age, a recent diagnosis of illness nor current COVID conditions have halted Sister Marie’s determination to serve as she always has.
What an inspirational example of a continuing life of service.

Some months went by, and the family moved to a different town. The following December, Greg came into the house carrying an envelope. “We got a letter from Sister Fuhriman,” he called. He tore it open and read:
“I will miss your family this Christmas. I don’t believe I ever told you how much I enjoyed Christmas Eve in your home. I must tell you now what I did not tell you then.
“Some years before you moved into the house across the road from me, I had a dream. I could see your house, all lit up and glowing. When I awoke from that dream, I had the most wonderful, happy, peaceful feeling—something I had not experienced very often since my husband’s death.
“Months went by, and I forgot all about my dream. Then came your invitation for Christmas Eve. I had such a wonderful time sharing in your family celebration.
“After the boys walked me back home, I stood on my porch to make sure they returned home safely. Just then I noticed your house all aglow. It was the same picture I had seen in my dream years ago, and I had the very same feeling of peace. I just wanted you to know how I appreciated you.”
As Greg read Sister Fuhriman’s words, he remembered the warmth he had felt that night. He was grateful his family had shared their celebration with Sister Fuhriman, bringing her Christmas comfort and joy.

When the first COVID-19 lockdown was implemented in May, Paisley Stake director of communication, Douglas Yates foresaw that a Scottish government requirement to wear face masks may be imposed on most people as they went about their daily lives.
Using good local contacts, he persuaded six local community organisations, including The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, to donate to procurement funds to allow him to source and purchase fabric, elastic, tape and thread.
Cotton fabric, elastic and thread was sourced from a Glasgow supplier and purchased as they were needed over a five-month period. Volunteer sewers were recruited locally, including some Latter-day Saints, and production of various coloured face masks began. The goal was to produce a sufficient number of good quality, 100 percent cotton face masks which were washable and reusable, at a very modest cost, making them affordable to all families. The price point was set at £1 for a pack of two face masks.
The face masks went on sale at the end of May and by the end of September, when demand waned, more than 5,000 face masks had been bought by local families. Money raised through the sale of the masks was donated back to three charitable organisations which have outreach programmes to help others.
An evaluation of the initiative by the volunteer arm of East Renfrewshire Council judged the face masks initiative to have made a valuable contribution to the community and to have been a great success.

A few years ago one of the members of our family had a remarkable dog named Ben. On a beautiful fall day, some of us were walking in the fields. Ben was going back and forth in front of us, sniffing the ground, tail wagging, obviously enjoying himself. After a while, Ben came limping up to his master and, with a pained look in his eye, held up his front paw. Between two of Ben’s toes was a thorn. The thorn was carefully removed, and Ben ran off, no longer limping nor bothered by the pain. I was amazed that Ben instinctively seemed to know that the thorn needed to come out to relieve the pain and to know where to go to have it removed. Like Ben, we also seem to instinctively look for relief from the thorns of sin that inflict us. In contrast, however, we do not always seek our Master for relief, and many do not yet know who their Master is.

Photograph by Christina Smith
When 17-year-old Parker J. was preparing for his senior wrestling championship, he trained for any maneuver his opponents could throw at him. But although he’s been building his strength with wrestling, football, shot put, and even accordion for years, Parker’s most important preparation had nothing to do with physical muscle. It took spiritual strength to make this tournament a win in God’s eyes.
“Feeling God’s love always fueled me,” Parker says. But for some reason, he wasn’t feeling very close to God in the weeks leading up to the tournament. In the past, he says, “gratitude toward God really helped me strengthen my testimony, so I didn’t know if it was me just not being as grateful or if God was actually withdrawing His hand a little bit.”
The plan for tournament week was simple: Parker’s team would take a bus on Thursday to compete in the tournament on Friday and Saturday. Unfortunately, a nasty snowstorm complicated things. The tournament got pushed back a day, meaning wrestlers who won their Saturday matches would have to compete on Sunday. And Parker’s skill and strength gave him a high chance of making it that far.
Sitting on the bus with his teammates, Parker knew he had a choice to make: wrestle in the Sunday finals or honor the Sabbath. And since he would graduate after this year, it was his last chance to wrestle with his team.
“It was a really tough moment for me to make that decision. I just hadn’t been feeling God’s hand those weeks before the tournament,” he says.
But remembering past experiences with God gave Parker the strength he needed to decide. “Though I hadn’t felt His hand recently, I knew that I had felt His hand before. I promise every week when I take the sacrament to always remember Him, not just when I feel like it. So I decided not to wrestle on Sunday.”
I promise every week when I take the sacrament to always remember Him, not just when I feel like it.
Parker showed up Saturday morning knowing he wouldn’t wrestle in the finals on Sunday, even if he won every Saturday match. But surprisingly, he didn’t feel disappointed anymore. “I was at peace with my decision,” he says. “It was interesting, because the whole season I had just felt so much pressure to win. But at that meet, I was just happy to be there with the people I love. I just wanted to do my best.”
And he did. Parker’s practice paid off, and he won every match that Saturday. But as he forfeited the Sunday match, Parker felt like he won something far more valuable. “That first-place medal would have gotten dusty on my shelf,” he says. “But the clarity and peace I got from choosing God and being able to recognize His hand was just so worth it.”
Parker’s true victory wasn’t in any medal or trophy. It was in choosing God and being able to recognize His hand.
Parker says, “This experience made me realize what I was capable of. A lot of youth don’t believe in their ability to make difficult choices. I’ve been there. But you always have the choice to do the right thing, even if you’ve messed up in the past. God knows you and believes in you. He knows you have the ability to do it.”
You always have the choice to do the right thing, even if you’ve messed up in the past.
Soon after Parker’s spiritual victory, he received his mission call to Romania. He knows that choosing to keep God’s commandments will have a positive influence on his mission and the rest of his life. He says, “Now I know that setting aside one day of the week for God blesses you triple, quadruple more. It’s not ‘Well, I forfeited this final tournament, so I’m going to heaven.’ It’s that my ability to serve, sacrifice, and be closer to God has increased.”
Parker is excited to serve the Lord as a full-time missionary in Romania.
The next time Parker has to wrestle with an important decision, he’s more prepared than ever. “Not a lot of people will have the chance to forfeit the final match of a state wrestling championship,” Parker admits. “The applicable part is sacrifice. Being able to just let something go for God and dedicate it to Him gave me a sense of power that I’ve never had before. God knows you better than you know yourself.” He says, “God will allow you to experience situations that are difficult but never impossible to overcome with His help.”
God knows you better than you know yourself.
Find bonus content about Parker’s story on the Gospel Living app this month.

I remember handing in a paper to Dean Bruce B. Clark who was at the time the teacher of an English literature class I was taking. I loved the class and knew from the first day of instruction that three short papers would be due on clearly stated dates during the term. Yet I left those papers—in every case, I think—until the night before they were due. I remember Dean Clark handing one of them back to me, saying something like “You had the makings of a good paper here. It’s too bad you didn’t spend more time on it.” I was devastated. Here was the chairman of my major department, teaching only one class a semester that year, the very symbol of my academic hopes and dreams for the B.A., saying “You didn’t work very hard.” Oh, I had worked hard all right—from 9:00 the night before until 3:00 that morning—without stopping, without breathing.

Now, my young brothers and sisters, I deserved to be devastated. I should have been devastated. And it could have been a good paper. Perhaps that discouraged me more than anything. You see, I discouraged me. I discouraged myself. Remember, dear Brutus, “The fault . . . is not in our stars, but in ourselves” (William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar). And that’s the worst kind of despair, the kind of self-despising that eats at our image and crushes our hopes. It isn’t the class or the teacher or the paper. It never is. I simply should have done better. I should have been at work much sooner. I should have written a draft or two and then left it alone for a time. I should have gone back to it in freshness and strength. I might even have asked for some suggestions. I should have reworked it and shaped it and fine-tuned it over several rewritings. At the end I should have been working with a scalpel; as it was I delivered one butchered idea, the meat axe still dripping as I walked into class. And furthermore, you don’t type very well at 3:00 in the morning.

My daughter Carl Anne wrote to me describing a very difficult time in her life:
“In these lines of the song ‘Peace in Christ’:
‘There is Peace in Christ,
When we walk with Him.
Through the streets of Galilee
To Jerusalem.
Mend the broken hearts,
dry the tear-filled eyes.
When we live the way He lived,
There is peace in Christ,’”
“I have been impacted by these words because they remind me that in one of the most difficult moments I have ever experienced, I was able to recover because Jesus Christ helped me to remember the enabling power of His Atonement. I remember when my heart was broken, and I felt very sad about the loss of my first pregnancy—it feels like it was just yesterday—the day that I poured out my soul in prayer to My Heavenly Father seeking to feel peace and hope that everything would be all right. At that precise moment, I felt an intense warmth as if I were being embraced by my Savior Jesus Christ! Because He had experienced all of my pains and sorrows in the Garden of Gethsemane, I knew He felt my pain now. I knew without a doubt that Heavenly Father had a more perfect plan for me than I expected! Today, a year later, I am grateful to be the mother of a beautiful baby who brings me great joy, and to have the knowledge that it was all done in the Lord’s perfect timing.”

Another one said, “I was always camping with my friends, and they were always putting in big chaws. Me and my cousin swore up and down that we’d never try it because it smelled sick and looked sick. One day I was with my buddies up in the hills. They whipped out their cans of snooze and offered me one. I just kept on telling them no. I finally took one. I figured these guys were my good friends, and they had done it so it must be good.”

All of the young men we talked to were underage to buy chewing tobacco. Even though the laws against selling tobacco to minors are strict in most states, this did not cause them a moment of concern. “We have friends with older friends or older brothers who will buy it for us. Sometimes we buy it ourselves when the clerk does not ask for identification. Or we’ll stop a stranger in the street, give him the money, and ask if he’ll buy it for us.”

None of those we talked to would admit ever being addicted to tobacco. In fact, several pointed out that they had quit for weeks or months at a time. They seemed reluctant to admit that it has any power over them. They started giving a list of excuses for using chewing tobacco such as how they like to have something in their mouths or how it keeps them alert or how it’s something to do when they’re bored. But it started to sound like they were fooling themselves. If it isn’t a problem, why can’t they leave it alone permanently?

They all talked about how bad the tobacco smells and how it burns the tender places of their mouths and how sick it made them at first when they swallowed the juice. Most of them couldn’t honestly say they liked it. The best they can say about it is they don’t mind it now. They see themselves as the exceptions, the ones who can give it up with no ill effects.

But one young man we interviewed is making a real effort to quit. He wants to get his life in order, so he can be in a position to serve a mission and stay active in the Church. He talked about how difficult the past months have been, how hard it is to give up a bad habit. He’s deep in the struggle to shake free.

These young men are members of the Church and know it’s against the Word of Wisdom to use chewing tobacco, but they took the bait when they were very young. One said, “Just last year in seminary, we were studying the Doctrine and Covenants, and the Word of Wisdom is in there. When we started studying that, it started eating at me. It bothered me quite a lot.”

Just like the trophy fish with a hook planted deeply in its lip, now they are fighting hard to get free even as they are being pulled more firmly into addiction.

What would help them quit? In one way the answer they give is not surprising because it’s the answer to so many other problems: a firm commitment to the Church. One of them said, “The Church has influenced me a lot towards quitting. When I’m with my Church friends, I don’t even think about it. But when I get around people who chew, or when I’m by myself, it drives me crazy.”

All of these young men agree that having their parents get angry about their habit makes them feel rebellious and want to get away so they can have a chew and calm down. What works much better is having their parents know about their habit and express disappointment or hurt by it. “Guilt is much more effective than anger in stopping me from taking a dip.”

And as they have taken seminary, where they read and study the scriptures, the desire to live a good life, free from tobacco, is starting to bloom in them. Their belief in the Church is a powerful element in turning them away from tobacco.

Here’s a tidbit we didn’t include in the article: Nicotine is so addicting that for many people the only way to quit chewing is to take up smoking. That’s like a fish shaking the hook and trying to hide in the frying pan.

Tobacco companies in the United States are not allowed to advertise on television or radio, so they have begun other promotions to make teens notice their brands. They are the major sponsors of sporting events. Jackets, hats, T-shirts, and sporting equipment are becoming available with tobacco brands imprinted on them. Dave Stoddard, vice-principal at Bingham High School in Salt Lake City, says, “We don’t allow kids to wear clothing that advertises tobacco products or alcohol. We ask them to change or send them home if they persist.”

Seemingly innocent products are produced that imitate the habit of chewing tobacco such as finely shredded beef jerky packaged in round cans, or shredded bubble gum, also in cans the same size and shape as chewing tobacco. When children learn to imitate, it isn’t such a big leap to participate in the real thing.

Chewing tobacco is easier to hide than smoking. In many cases even family members don’t really know how involved in tobacco some teens are. The young men we interviewed were very careful never to chew tobacco in school. They say it seems like anyone who tries gets caught. They also say they never ever chew at home, “unless it’s after 10:30 P.M. and you know for sure everyone is asleep.” When they feel a need for tobacco, they say they leave to go for a walk or hide out in the bathroom. They chew mostly around their friends. So far they think their parents don’t know about their habit.

They pointed out a few telltale signs of a chewer: flakes of tobacco caught in their teeth; habits like moving their tongue under their lips and spitting; chewing toothpicks or sunflower seeds when they can’t chew tobacco.

Involvement with tobacco often doesn’t end with one bad habit. It usually leads to others, including alcohol or drugs. Dr. Van Komen says that studies show people who use tobacco are more likely to use alcohol. It’s known as cross-addiction.

We asked these young men what advice they could give that would help others keep from getting involved with tobacco. The question was hard for them to answer. After all, knowing better didn’t keep them from starting. One thing they do know, they probably wouldn’t have started if they hadn’t been around friends or relatives who were chewing tobacco.

When we asked Dr. Van Komen if there was anything we could say to persuade people to avoid chewing tobacco, he said, “I don’t know if there is anything other than telling them the truth about the addiction, the nicotine, and the very repulsiveness of chewing.”

Yes, chewing tobacco is a disgusting habit.
Yes, it can make you sick.
Yes, it can cause cancer.
Yes, it is against the Word of Wisdom.
Yes, it is highly addicting.
Yes, it can take away your choices.
Yes, it can ruin your life.
And if anyone offers it to you, say no.

In his autobiography, Parley P. Pratt gave us a description of a real man. In his account of his imprisonment in Liberty Jail with Joseph Smith and others, he told of one of those awful nights in which they had to listen to the guards brag of their deeds of rape, murder, robbery, and other crimes committed against the Mormons.

When the Prophet Joseph could bear it no more, Elder Pratt wrote, he rose to his feet, and spoke with a voice of thunder: “SILENCE, ye fiends of the infernal pit. In the name of Jesus Christ I rebuke you, and command you to be still; I will not live another minute and bear such language. Cease such talk, or you or I die THIS INSTANT!”

Said Elder Pratt: “I have seen the ministers of justice, clothed in magisterial robes … in the Courts of England; I have witnessed a Congress in solemn session … : I have tried to conceive of kings … : and of emperors assembled to decide the fate of kingdoms; but dignity and majesty have I seen but once, as it stood in chains, at midnight, in a dungeon in an obscure village of Missouri.”

Some mothers, some fathers, some children, some families are called upon to bear a heavy burden here in mortality. Such a family was the Borgstrom family in northern Utah. The time was World War II. Fierce battles raged in various parts of the world.
Tragically, the Borgstroms lost four of their five sons who were serving in the armed forces. Within a six-month period, all four sons gave their lives—each in a different part of the world.
Following the war, the bodies of the four Borgstrom brothers were brought home to Tremonton, and an appropriate service was conducted, filling the Garland Utah Tabernacle. General Mark Clark attended the service. He later spoke with tenderness these words: “I flew to Garland the morning of June 26. Met with the family, including among others the mother, father, and two remaining sons, … one a lad in his teens. I had never met a more stoic family group.
“As the four flag-draped coffins were lined up in front of us in the church, and as I sat by these brave parents, I was deeply impressed by their understanding, by their faith, and their pride in these magnificent sons who had made the supreme sacrifice for principles which had been instilled in them by noble parents since childhood.
“During the luncheon period, Mrs. Borgstrom turned to me and said in a low voice, ‘Are you going to take my young one?’ I answered in a whisper that as long as I remained in command of the army on the West Coast, if her boy were called I would do my best to have him assigned to duty at home.
“In the middle of this whispered conversation with the mother, the father suddenly leaned forward and said to Mrs. Borgstrom: ‘Mother, I have overheard your conversation with the general about our youngest. We know that if and when his country needs him, he will go.’
“I could hardly contain my emotions. Here were parents with four sons lying dead from wounds received in battle and yet were ready to make the last sacrifice if their country required it.”
It is the gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ that touched home and heart that ever-to-be-remembered day.

Though Illinois was for a time a refuge of peace and safety for the Saints, that refuge was short-lived. The Prophet Joseph’s death on 27 June 1844 at Carthage brought more persecution and suffering to his followers. But despite hardship, many Saints—like Sidney Tanner—continued to endure faithfully. Sidney suffered the loss of his wife and three children within a two-year period, yet on 13 April 1845, when he wrote from Winter Quarters to his in-laws, James and Elsie Conlee (who were rather antagonistic toward the Saints) to tell them of his wife’s death, he said,
“[My wife, Louisa] requested me to write to you and tell you that she died in the full triumph of the faith of Jesus Christ and her greatest desire for living was for the benefit of her family and friends and [to] do what she was afraid they would not do for themselves, that they might arrive to a glorious salvation in the kingdom of God, where she expects to meet them and enjoy their society.”14

When I received the invitation to respond to this question there immediately flashed through my mind the recollection of a teenage experience of many years ago. In the stake where I lived, the young people were planning a week-long camping trip that would extend through a Monday holiday. This involved being in the mountains on Sunday. The general policy guideline was for Church groups to avoid Sunday camping, but those responsible for the planning of this camping trip felt that by carefully working out a program to include the regular Sunday meetings at the campsite they could overcome any objections that might be raised. Approval to go forward was sought from the stake president. The young lady serving as the spokesman for the group explained what was being planned and concluded by saying, “We feel that by getting close to nature we can get closer to the Lord and can increase our spirituality.”
The stake president listened patiently and then in a kindly tone replied, “I agree with you that these things can happen, but my observation is that they usually don’t. I have no concern about the outcome of the Church meetings being planned. It’s what happens before and after. The minute church is out, the young folks are back in their grubbies and ready for play.”
The stake president was identifying a problem common to many of us, where we rationalize that attendance at church qualifies us for Sabbath day observance, and that this can be followed with activities not always in keeping with the spirit of the Sabbath.

When I was a young man, not many people—including me—would have picked me out of a lineup to become the future president of Brigham Young University. You see, I did not grow up in a family that hung diplomas on their walls. For starters, no one had diplomas. But we did, thankfully, have walls.
As a single mom, my mother heroically moved us to New Mexico when I was just a few months old. She put her own education on the shelf but made sure that my education was a top priority.
It was almost comical how much she hyped college in my young mind. Honestly, I became convinced that college was just another term for a Carnival cruise. So you can imagine my confusion when I first stepped foot on the campus of America’s most stone-cold sober university. I count it a miracle that I ended up at BYU. In fact, it took a small gift of light to get me here. Let me explain.
Back in my day, the company that administered the ACT would send your score for free to schools they recommended. But, for no additional expense, there were also two blank spots you got to fill in with schools you chose. The first spot on that list was easy: Utah State University. My mom had taken some classes there, and I felt that’s where she hoped I’d end up.
I was stumped, however, on the second one. I hadn’t toured many campuses, and I knew mostly local schools. But then, in a moment of heavenly inspiration, I recalled a hat I had in my bedroom—a gift from a Young Men leader. Some years earlier he had taken a group of us kids to a BYU basketball game against the University of New Mexico.
Before we had entered the basketball arena, he had handed me a BYU hat and said with a smile that wearing it was the price of admission. I put on the hat and waltzed into this extraordinarily hostile venue—known locally as The Pit. The surrounding crowd that night made us pay for it. That night at our Young Men activity, we learned a few new, colorful words. But we had fun. It also helped that BYU won the game. I felt something special—a kindling of a light—by daring to be different right in my own backyard with that brand-new BYU hat atop my head.
In the years that followed, BYU didn’t just launch my education or my career; it launched my eternal marriage to my eternal companion and my relationship with our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. He is the gift and the Light of the World.

I looked at the letter in my hand. “Dear Brother,” it said, “we would be pleased if you could audition talented young people on the Saturday of the conference at Nottingham (England) University.”

When I arrived at the university, I was told auditions were to start at 9:30 A.M. At 9:15 I was waiting patiently, when a lovely young lady approached me.

“Excuse me,” she said. “Could you possibly audition me early? My seminars start at 9:30, and I really don’t want to miss them.” She had music for only one number, but when she started to sing I thought she had the most beautiful soprano voice I had heard in a long time.

As the day wore on, and many acts were auditioned, it became apparent that a number of exceptionally talented people were present. At the end of the morning’s audition, I asked them all to return at 4:00 P.M. to learn which of them was chosen.

My thoughts, however, kept returning to the young lady I had listened to earlier. Although I felt that she could not be used in the program, I was sure that her beautiful voice should be heard by the 600 young adults who were gathered for the convention. So I spoke with the conference leaders and obtained permission for the young lady to be invited to sing at the Sunday morning meeting.

When I told her what had been arranged, she was tremendously pleased. The song that she decided to sing was “Though Deepening Trials.”

At last Saturday evening arrived, and the entertainment got under way. I was grateful that I had been given such wonderful acts to present. At the same time I was terribly sorry for the lack of time that prevented me from showing the other acts, which were also very good and worthy of being seen.

After the program, I sought out President Ralph Pulman, who would be conducting the Sunday meeting, and gave him the name of the young lady who was to sing next morning. He took one look at the name and said, “I have something to say about this young lady when I make my presentation tomorrow.” And that was that. He wouldn’t say any more about it to me.

The Sunday meeting was truly inspirational and the young lady sang beautifully.

Phillip McArthur, a professor in the Faculty of Culture, Language & Performing Arts, recounts a story of the work to follow the Savior in having brotherly love towards all men.
Let me give context to the story: This event took place just after the 2000 Coup in Fiji that was primarily centered in ethnic conflict. The Indo-Fijian president of the country had just been deposed by a pro-indigenous Fijian group and then there was a military take over. The coup occurred a month prior to graduation ceremonies at the end of June. It was customary a handful of student workers and presidency officers would wait for the graduates to come off the stand after receiving their diplomas and shaking the hands of the dignitaries, and then present them each with a lei. This presentation took place to the side by the student chairs so very few people focused on these exchanges while their attention was directed toward the stand.

“On this occasion I witnessed one of our Indo-Fijian graduates, after receiving his diploma, descend the stairs to be greeted by the student worker. I wanted to observe the interaction between the Fijian student worker and this Indo-Fijian graduate. When they met, the student worker placed the lei upon his friend, fellow citizen, and brother, and then they embraced with a most intense hug, burying their faces in each other necks. They held this embrace for some time, and when they raised their heads, I could see tears in both their eyes.

It was one of the most moving moments of genuine brotherhood, love, and affection among fellow saints I have ever witnessed. It was quiet, it was true, and identified what really matters, even in times of great political strain.” [8]