Gospel Story Finder

Our family had an experience that taught us about helping children develop their ability to make choices. Our daughter Mary was a standout soccer player growing up. One year her team made it to the championships and, wouldn’t you know it, that game was to be played on a Sunday. As a young teen, Mary had had years of teaching that the Sabbath was a day of rest and spiritual regeneration, not recreation. But she still felt pressure from her coaches and teammates to play, as well as a desire not to let her team down.
She asked us what she should do. My wife and I could easily have made this decision for her. However, we decided after prayerful consideration that in this case our daughter was ready to take spiritual responsibility for her own decision. We read some scriptures with her and encouraged Mary to pray and think about it.
After a few days she announced her decision. She would play the game on Sunday. Now what were we to do? After further discussion and receiving reassurance from the Spirit, we did as we had promised and permitted her to carry out her choice to play. After the game ended, Mary slowly walked over to her waiting mother. “Oh, Mom,” she said, “that felt awful. I never want to feel like that again. I’m never playing another game on the Sabbath day.” And she never did.
Mary had now internalized the principle of Sabbath keeping. If we had forced her not to play the game, we would have deprived her of a precious and powerful learning experience with the Spirit.

Imagine having some free school days to start the new year—your possibilities are wide open. Do you go camping? Take a road trip to visit relatives? Start a new hobby? A group of 29 youth from Texas, USA, chose to hold a scripture-reading marathon. Their goal: to read the entire Book of Mormon over the break.
Held during a school break at the beginning of 2012, the reading marathon was an ambitious undertaking. To help them all stay together, the youth read along while listening to an audio narration.
There were also some surprising challenges. During the first day a main waterline broke in town, leaving them with no running water. Determined to stay on track, leaders hauled in water from food storage. The youth wanted to keep reading despite the obstacles. As they approached the end of the reading marathon, a big cheer went up after they turned off the recording and a member of the stake presidency read the final chapter out loud. “There are good things and there are better things,” says Audrey J., one of the youth in attendance. “This was a better thing for us.”

I really enjoy school and the time I get to spend with my friends. Sometimes I think it would be nice to have even more friends to play with.
I got an invitation to a friend’s birthday party. The only bad thing about that was that it was on a Sunday. I told my friend that I go to church on that day. I decided to take him his birthday present on Monday.
I know that Heavenly Father wants me to spend the Sabbath Day with my family, doing activities that are going to help me know more about the gospel and that will teach me how to be a better example to my little brother.
I am trying to be like Jesus Christ.

I’m not a very good gardener (my husband, Ed, was the one who enjoyed that part of our home), and I recently noticed that a carelessly placed brick had squashed a pansy flat. But part of the pansy was still peeking out from under the edge of the brick; and over the next few weeks, that pansy put its energies into creeping sideways around the edge of the brick, pushing its short shoots into the air and sunlight, and blossoming in its friendly purple and gold. When I moved the brick, the pansy’s stem was crooked; but, oh, its flower was as glorious as those next to it.
This pansy chose life. It experienced adversity, but it chose life. It experienced crippling, but it chose life. It could not have been blamed or faulted for giving up under the brick, but it chose life.

Alan Shaw shifted his pickup into second gear as he turned off the highway and began the long climb up the mountain road. The narrow dirt road threaded its way between the boulders, the white crashing water of the creek, and the trees of the forest.
He glanced over at his son Todd who had been sleeping for the past two hours but now, because of the jarring as they went over the large chuck holes, was beginning to stir.
“He looks so young when he sleeps,” Alan thought. “Like when he was four or five and I’d come home late at night from the computer center and peek in to see him; he could never keep a blanket on him. Now he’s 12. I’m growing old,” he smiled to himself, imagining his wife would say to him, “Yes, you are, but I’m not.”
It had seemed like a great idea when he first thought of bringing Todd back to Montana to spend a few days at the lake where Alan had spent time with his father as a boy. It meant that the family vacation would be cut short, but there was something to be sorted out.
Just a week before Todd had been ordained a deacon. It had caught Alan off guard.
“He’s growing too fast. What can I tell him about becoming a man?” Alan thought. “What patterns for manhood exist? Can I teach him which pattern to follow?”
Todd was awake now. Alan pulled over and stopped. They got out and looked around. Alan opened a sack and got a couple of tuna sandwiches for them. They climbed up on a boulder and while they ate watched the water dancing down the mountain.
“Dad, do you think there are any fish in here?” Todd asked.
“Sure. Plenty. It’d be hard to get ’em this time of year though. You’d have better luck later on in the summer when the water’s down. Your grandfather and I used to come here in August to fly fish.”
They got back in the pickup and started up the road.
A few minutes later as they rounded a curve, they saw a deer in a small meadow. It bounded off into the safety of the trees.
“Bang! I gotcha!” Todd shouted, his hands holding an imaginary rifle sighted on the fleeing deer. “Dad, did you ever hunt in these mountains?”
“Almost every year when I was a boy.”
“Dad, I can see the lake,” Todd said, causing Alan to return to the present. Below them was the small mountain lake. They drove down the switchbacks to the dam, crossed over, and made their way to a campsite.
After they’d set up the tent and stashed their sleeping bags in it, they took a few minutes and picked up the empty beer cans someone had strewn around the campsite.
Alan and Todd assembled their fishing rods and divided up some of the worms to get ready for the afternoon fishing.
“What are you going to use, Dad?”
“I think I’ll try a spinner first.”
Alan worked the spinner, varying the depth and the speed of recovery, all with no strikes. Todd cast, retrieved, moved a few feet, and tried again.
He’s a persistent fisherman, Alan thought. I hope he’s like that when he’s a fisher of men.
“There’s so much to learn, Todd,” Alan thought to himself. “I hope I can teach you.”
Todd by now had worked his way around to the other side of the lake. He had switched to a fly on the end of a bubble.
Alan looked at his watch. It was 5:00. “Sherry will be getting home from Primary with the kids about now,” Alan thought, wishing a little he had brought the whole family. He was missing Sherry already.
“Todd, I hope you find a wife as wonderful as your mother,” Alan thought.
Alan’s thoughts were diverted by shouting. Todd, across the lake, was holding up a large fish and yelling to Alan. Excitedly, Todd picked up his gear and began running around the lake toward Alan.
When he arrived, he proudly showed the trout, a two-pound rainbow. “I got it on a fly, Dad. Maybe you should change too.”
They cleaned the fish and placed it in a cooler until they could fix it for dinner. Todd munched on a candy bar and talked about his success.
“Todd, before dark could you get us some firewood for tonight? Get plenty because there are some things I want to talk to you about. So we’ll need plenty of wood for a campfire.”
“Okay,” Todd answered, placing the last piece of candy bar in his mouth as he started up toward the trees.
“Oh, Todd,” Alan asked, “what would you think about me giving you a father’s blessing tomorrow morning?”
Todd turned around, “What for, Dad?”
“You get the firewood and tonight I’ll try to tell you what for.”

On this mortal journey we must never think that our choices affect only us. Recently, a young man visited my home. He had a good spirit about him, but I sensed he was not fully participating in Church activity. He told me that he had been raised in a gospel-centered home until his father was unfaithful to his mother, resulting in their divorce and influencing all his siblings to question the Church and to fall away. My heart was heavy as I spoke with this young father who now, affected by his father’s choices, was raising these precious spirits outside the blessings of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Another man I know, a onetime faithful Church member, had questions regarding certain doctrine. Rather than ask Heavenly Father for answers, he chose to rely solely on secular sources for guidance. His heart turned in the wrong direction as he sought what seemed to be the honors of men. His pride may have been gratified, at least temporarily, but he was cut off from the powers of heaven. Rather than find truth, he lost his testimony and brought with him many family members.
These two men became trapped in unseen riptides and brought many with them.
Conversely, I think of LaRue and Louise Miller, my wife’s parents, who despite never having much by way of worldly possessions, chose to teach the pure doctrine of the restored gospel to their children and to live it every day of their lives. By so doing they have blessed their posterity with the fruits of the gospel and the hope of eternal life.
In their home they established a pattern where the priesthood was respected, where love and harmony were abundant, and where the principles of the gospel directed their lives. Louise and LaRue, side by side, demonstrated what it meant to live lives patterned after Jesus Christ. Their children could clearly see which of life’s currents would bring peace and happiness. And they chose accordingly. As President Kimball taught, “If we can create … a strong, steady current flowing toward our goal of righteous life, we and our children may be carried forward in spite of the contrary winds of hardship, disappointment, [and] temptations.”

When I served as a mission president in Hawaii, I had many opportunities to speak with young elders and sisters struggling to become better missionaries. I remember one missionary who became deeply discouraged. His missionary work had become unbearable to him, and he started doubting his testimony. He came to me with the request to send him home.

Instead, I asked him to follow the example of Nephi in pondering and praying about his concerns and desires (see 1 Nephi 10:17; 11:1). This is a practice I have followed for many years and a practice many other General Authorities of the Church follow. I asked the missionary to go to his apartment and do the following:
Rise from his bed early—in his case, a few minutes before 6:30 a.m.
Exercise for a few minutes.
Wash his body and shave—make himself clean.
Dress for the day.
Go to a quiet place inside his apartment.
Kneel, subdue his spirit before Heavenly Father, and call upon Him. Talk with Him in reverent prayer.
Wait for His holy inspiration, pondering the scriptures or a recent general conference talk and think about the specific problems he faced.
I promised this young elder that if he did this and immersed himself in the scriptures, especially the Book of Mormon, for a few minutes every day, he would experience feelings of joy and would receive strength to go on.3
A few days later he came to see me. His eyes filled with tears as he told me of his experiences during his early-morning devotional time. He served wonderfully as a servant of the Lord and completed an honorable mission. His wife recently told me that he continues to rise early to have private time with his Heavenly Father.
I taught this same principle to each of the missionaries over whom I had the privilege to preside. I was concerned that we were not doing all we could to bring the light of the gospel to the Hawaiian people. Within a relatively short time after the missionaries started this practice, the number of referrals we received from members increased, teaching opportunities went up, and the number of baptisms in our mission doubled and then tripled. All of this happened because the missionaries’ efforts were magnified by power of the Holy Spirit.

Sister Jensen was facing some difficult problems. She had prayed for help and for peace of mind, but the answers seemed slow in coming. One particularly frustrating day, she cried out in prayer, “O God, why hast thou turned away from me when I need thy help?”
“Then to my mind,” she recalls, “came the still, small voice. It seemed to say, ‘When have I forsaken you? Was I not there when … ?’ Suddenly I remembered the many, many times in my life when I had received the Lord’s help and when I had felt of his great love for me. It was I who had not remembered him.”

When we think of the Prophet Joseph Smith we recognize that he was a man who possessed many great attributes. Courage was certainly one of these. Even at the tender age of seven, he would not take counsel from his fears. He had contracted typhus, from which he developed a fever sore that settled into his left leg. To save his leg, doctors cut a deep incision and removed several pieces of affected bone. There was, of course, no anesthetic available at that time, and already the seeds of greatness were sprouting as the brave young Joseph endured this excruciating operation with only the comfort he could draw from his father holding him.

Recently, I was at home with my 4-year-old daughter, Romana, and we were both in my bedroom. I left the bedroom and went to the living room, leaving her alone in the bedroom. A few minutes later, I called out to her: “Romana, you are alone in the bedroom, come to the living room to be with me and your dolls.”

Without hesitating, she replied: “Mom, I am not alone, God is with me! We are never alone, remember?” I was so touched to hear my little girl saying those words. A few days earlier, during our family study, my husband and I had taught our children that our Heavenly Father and our Savior are always with us, despite our weaknesses and challenges. We are never alone!

Diego trudged up the hill on his way home from school. Recess was usually the best part of the day. But all week it had been terrible! No one wanted to play soccer with him, so he just walked around the playground by himself until the bell rang.
“Mom, I’m home!” Diego yelled as he slid through the door and sat down in the kitchen.
“How was school?” Mom asked.
“Not so good.” Diego grabbed an apple. “No one wanted to play with me at recess.” He could feel tears coming, so he squeezed his eyes shut.
“It’s hard feeling lonely or left out,” Mom said. She put her hand on Diego’s shoulder. “Maybe you could say a prayer for help.”
Diego rubbed his eyes. “Thanks,” he said and ran to his room. Did Heavenly Father really care if he had friends at recess? Diego knelt down and prayed that he could find a friend. When he finished, he felt a little better, but he still had no idea what to do.
After school the next day, there was a knock on the door. Diego ran to answer it.
“Hi, I’m Ruben,” the boy at the door said. He had just moved into an apartment downstairs. Diego had seen him on the playground today. “Do you want to play?”
Diego grinned. A friend to play with? It was an answer to his prayer!
They walked to Ruben’s place and sat down on the couch. Ruben’s older brother was playing a video game. Diego didn’t know what to think at first. The game was really violent and had gross pictures, but Ruben and his brother seemed to like it. “Get him!” Ruben shouted as they watched.
Diego felt his stomach squirm, and he stared down at his feet. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be watching video games like this one.
But what could he do?
He didn’t want his new friend to think he was too boring to play exciting video games. Would Ruben think he was weird if he spoke up?
He looked around the room and tried to think of other things they could do.
Diego took a deep breath. “Hey, umm … can you show me your room? Or maybe we can play somewhere else?” he said.
Ruben looked at Diego for a second. Diego bit his lip. Would Ruben say he didn’t want to play anymore?
Then Ruben’s eyes lit up. “Wait, do you like cars? I have the fastest cars in my room. Want to race them?”
Diego smiled and nodded. He followed Ruben out of the room. The heavy feeling lifted—he felt like he was floating down the hall! He was glad he had a new friend, and he was glad he hadn’t watched something bad.
“The red car is mine,” Ruben said, “but you can use the blue one or the green one. Which one do you want?”
Diego reached for the green car—his favorite color. This was an easy choice to make.

A simple thing happened many years ago that I have always remembered because it caused me to think about the Savior’s mission. Although it was just a childish incident, it has some meaning. It happened when our twins were only about five years old. They were just learning to ride their bicycles. As I glanced out the window, I saw them speeding down the street on their bikes going very fast! Perhaps they were going a little too fast for their level of ability, because all of a sudden Adam had a terrible crash! He was tangled up in the wreck, and all I could see was a twist of handlebars and tires and arms and legs. His little twin brother, Aaron, saw the whole thing happen, and immediately he skidded to a stop and jumped off his bike. He threw it down and ran to the aid of his brother, whom he loved very much. These little twins truly were of one heart. If one hurt, so did the other. If one got tickled, they both laughed. If one started a sentence, the other could complete it. What one felt, the other did also. So it was painful for Aaron to see Adam crash! Adam was a mess. He had skinned knees, he was bleeding from a head wound, his pride was damaged, and he was crying. In a fairly gentle five-year-old way, Aaron helped his brother get untangled from the crash, he checked out the wounds, and then he did the dearest thing. He picked his brother up and carried him home. Or tried to. This wasn’t very easy because they were the same size, but he tried. And as he struggled and lifted and half-dragged, half-carried his brother along, they finally reached the front porch. By this time, Adam, the injured one, was no longer crying, but Aaron, the rescuer, was. When asked, “Why are you crying, Aaron?” he said simply, “Because Adam hurts.” And so he had brought him home to help, home to someone who knew what to do, to someone who could cleanse the wounds, bind them up, and make them better—home to love.

Akin to the miracle of inspiration is the not infrequent occurrence where, through the workings of the Spirit, one receives a new understanding of a gospel principle, an insight. One Utah sister whose son has cancer bore this testimony: “Our strivings in behalf of little Thomas have helped me to understand what faith is. I’ve learned that faith is not just something you feel, it’s something you live. I’m grateful to my Heavenly Father for helping me to gain that understanding.”
Just as this sister felt the influence of the Spirit during a difficult time in her life, so do many other Saints receive the Lord’s help through answered prayers.
One mother told of a frightening incident she had had in the month previous with her eighteen-month-old toddler. He was exploring their bathroom when “he began to scream and scream. I ran into the bathroom, and I was horrified at what I saw. He had slipped and hit his head on the bathtub. It was turning an awful black and blue and was really beginning to swell.
“I’m afraid I almost became hysterical. I picked Ronnie up and carried him into our bedroom and laid him on the bed. All I could think to do was pray. So I knelt down there by the side of the bed and had hardly uttered the first few words of the prayer when I felt an almost tangible feeling of peace and calm.
“By the time I had completed the prayer Ronnie’s head was back to normal size, and almost all of the discoloration was gone.”

Greg hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. We all hushed up as if we were waiting for an important news bulletin. “We’re going down the block to do some painting.”
“Huh?” I stared at him. “You mean work?”
“Mark, don’t be a dope.” He held up a can of black spray paint. “I ‘found’ it in the hardware store.”
We laughed. That meant that Greg had stolen the paint. I felt kind of funny in the stomach. I really didn’t like the idea. But I was new here. If I said anything, the other guys wouldn’t be my friends.
Greg led us to a house with a wooden fence around the backyard. He handed the paint to Sam.
“Wait a minute,” I blurted out.
Greg cuffed me on the side of the head. “Are you chicken?”
I snorted. “Me? Of course not.”
When Greg wasn’t looking, I rubbed my head where he’d hit me. It hurt. He’s a year older than I am, and a lot bigger.
After Sam finished, Greg and a couple of other kids did their thing. Then it was my turn. I took a deep breath and pushed the button on the can. Black paint sprayed out.
“Hey!” The shout came from an unseen person.
We took off running. Then I tripped. I jumped up, but someone grabbed my arm. My heart rate speeded up so much that I thought I’d either faint or get sick all over my new sneakers.
I peeked up at a gray-haired man wearing glasses. “What were you doing?” he asked, not loosening his grip any.
“I don’t know,” I said, though it sounded silly.
“Who gave you the right to vandalize my property?”
“Uh, I’m sorry. Are you going to call the police?” I asked. My voice shook like I was going to cry.
“I believe I’d rather keep this between me and your parents.”
I took a shaky breath, then told him my name and phone number. But I’d rather have gone to jail than have my parents know what I’d done.
Dad came over right away. He looked as though he couldn’t decide whether he was more hurt or more angry at what I’d done. I kind of shrunk down inside my shirt.
“Mark will pay for all damages, Mr. Parker,” Dad said.
I gulped hard. My allowance after tithing and savings, doesn’t cover half the stuff I want to buy. I figured that it would take a big part of my childhood years to pay for repainting that fence.
“I believe I have a better idea,” Mr. Parker said. “I’d planned to repaint it, anyway. How about if I buy the paint and Mark does the painting?”
I sagged with relief. I wasn’t looking forward to the work, but painting the fence was a lot better than paying for damages.
I wouldn’t have been so happy if I’d known what was also in store for me at home—Mom and Dad grounded me for six weeks.
“Hurting others is against the word of God,” Mr. Parker said when I went over to his place. He handed me a brush.
I shrugged. “I know.”
“You sure didn’t act like it the way you worked my fence over.”
I turned away and carefully drew the brush out of the paint can. I took my time making my first brush stroke nice and neat. I figured that if Mr. Parker saw that I could do a good job all by myself, he’d leave me alone.
Mr. Parker didn’t take the hint. In fact, he got a brush of his own and started painting too.
My hand shook. I dribbled paint onto my pants leg.
“Careful,” Mr. Parker said.
“I can’t help it—you make me nervous!” I blurted. I dug the toe of my sneaker into the ground.
“I do? Now, why is that?”
“You keep watching me as if I’m bad or something.”
“Is that so? Well, I know you’re not bad or you wouldn’t have stayed and owned up.”
“I never did anything like that before. But Greg said …” I stopped and looked away quickly. I hadn’t meant to mention anyone else.
Mr. Parker chuckled softly. “Greg must be one of the other young fellows I saw running away that day.”
“You saw them?”
“I sure did.”
“You didn’t even ask me to snitch.”
“I was a boy once myself.” Mr. Parker winked at me.
I felt a knot ease out of my shoulders. Mr. Parker was turning out to be a lot nicer than I’d figured.
We started painting again. After a while he said, “Do you ever go to church?”
“We used to.”
“I’m going to ask your folks to come with me on Sunday.”
“They’re pretty busy.”
“We’ll let them decide. I think your parents will welcome the chance for you to meet the right kind of friends.”
My face turned warm. I leaned over and concentrated on my painting. “I have friends,” I mumbled.
“Sure you do, son.”
Mr. Parker didn’t say anything else. I’d expected him to start preaching and tell me how bad my friends were—how they were not only a bad influence but how they ran off and left me. I was all set to get mad and tell him my friends were great.
But all he did was start whistling. I recognized the tune—it was a hymn.
My parents were all eager to take Mr. Parker up on his church offer. I told myself that it didn’t matter—at least I had somewhere else to go for the next six weeks. I couldn’t wait until my grounding was over and I could see Greg and the other guys again.
The only thing was, I got busy with the kids from Primary. By the time the six weeks were up, I was involved in a ward project to get books for a shelter for the homeless. After that, we Blazers all got parts in a play that we were going to put on at the care center.
The next time I saw Greg, he was leading his gang past the park. He stopped suddenly, and everyone piled into the back of him. They reminded me of robots playing follow the leader.
“Mark. I haven’t seen you around.”
“I … uh … I’ve been busy.” I felt a familiar shrinking in my stomach. Funny, I’d never realized it before, but I always felt that way around Greg.
“Yeah, I heard you were busy painting old man Parker’s fence.”
Greg and the robots cracked up. I clenched my fists.
“Come on—we’re doing something fun.” Greg held up a cloth sack.
I knew that they planned to steal oranges from Mr. McKellar’s grove. Six weeks ago I’d have stumbled over my own feet rushing to join them. Now all I felt was sorry for them.
“No thanks.” I turned and marched away. I had new friends now. My kind of friends. The shrinking in my stomach disappeared. It didn’t come back.

On one occasion, I received the assignment to visit a stake located in the beautiful mountains of the Peruvian highlands. This unit of the Church had not been visited by a General Authority for more than two years because of the dangers involved in traveling there. After obtaining proper authorization, and with the help of the mission president, we commenced the five-hour trip that took us to the beautiful Mantaro River valley.
When we arrived at the stake center, the president and his counselors were waiting for us. Upon seeing us, their faces lit up with happiness and we joined in a strong, brotherly embrace. Some three years previously, two of our beloved missionaries had been killed in this city. After embracing the president close to my heart, trying to communicate to him all my love, I asked, “Have you suffered greatly during this time in which we haven’t been able to come?” He answered with his eyes filled with tears, “Yes, we have suffered greatly, but we have kept the faith.” This simple phrase touched our hearts, and we could feel that the hand of the Lord had been with them in the difficult circumstances they had experienced as a people and as members of the Church.
During our meeting with them, we learned many things, one of which was how to keep the faith in areas such as these, far from large cities and far from the headquarters of the Church. In the things that we learned, we were able to distinguish at least five principles which aided them to overcome their difficulties.
First, they never stopped trusting in the Lord, and they placed all of their faith in him. This was the foundation for their assurance. They trusted in the fact that he would protect and guide them. The Lord has said, “If ye will have faith in me ye shall have power to do whatsoever thing is expedient in me” (Moro. 7:33).
Second, they remained faithful in prayer. Each member, whether adult, child, or adolescent, faithfully followed this holy practice each day, praying individually and as families with all of their faith. As we know, prayer is the means by which we communicate with our Heavenly Father. He listens to us because we are his children and he loves us, and he is anxious to bless us when we keep the commandments.
Third, they never stopped studying the scriptures. In the scriptures they found faith to overcome fear, solutions to their problems, divine comfort from the Master, the loving counsel of the Father, and especially the assurance of being guided in righteousness towards eternal life. “Search the scriptures; for in them ye think ye have eternal life: and they are they which testify of me” (John 5:39). They lived this commandment even in the midst of all their difficulties. One of the Saints there said, “We have never been as close to the Lord as when we were reading the scriptures.”
Fourth, they implemented priesthood programs. Due to the fatal incident that had taken place there, it was necessary to remove full-time missionaries. In order to make up for the help that was lost, it became necessary to organize the returned missionaries so that they could teach the gospel to those who wanted to hear it. References came in from member families. Home teaching increased. Nobody was overlooked. Just as they said, they had kept the faith.
Fifth, they humbled themselves before the Lord. They purified their lives; they repented; they tried to live together as Saints, sharing much of what they had, fasting when problems arose or when they were threatened.
These simple yet powerful principles enabled them to sustain themselves, to be preserved, to remain faithful and active as members of the Church in that area.
At the close of the conference in that stake, I assured the members that God loved them, that the First Presidency and the Twelve Apostles were mindful of them, and that this was the reason we were there—to give them our testimony of the fact that they were part of the Church, that we had not forgotten them, and that we prayed for them. There was gratitude in their hearts, and again they smiled as humble members who had been comforted by the Spirit of the Lord.
As he gave the closing prayer in one of the conference sessions, a worthy elderly man, nearly eighty years of age, expressed well the ways in which they remember the prophets. In his prayer he said, “Heavenly Father, we give thee thanks for having sent one of thy servants here to the Mantaro Valley, where thy beloved servant, President Kimball, knelt down and blessed this land that it would feed us and always provide us a livelihood.”

I would like to acknowledge the work that is put into the New Era. I am the editor of the branch paper, and am finding it a challenge to get it out every month. About four years ago I had a letter published in Feedback. Because of that letter, I gained a very special friend. Lori Wall saw my letter and found it very close to her ideals. She wrote to me, and we have been writing to each other ever since. We hope someday to meet each other. I feel that I have known her since the time before we came to earth. I know that I have come to know a very special spirit and sister. Thank you so much for helping us meet each other. I hope that you have made someone else as happy as myself.
Petra MillsOrange, N.S.W., Australia

I have been blessed to have a mother who has spent her life preparing to meet God. She understands the principles of creating, learning, and serving in this life. Her motto has been “Welcome the task that makes you go beyond yourself, and you will grow.” Let me tell you a few highlights from her adventure-filled life. In her youth she lived in the wild Uinta Mountains, where her father worked. She learned to cut tall trees, fish, and camp in the outdoors. During the winter she attended school in the city, played on a basketball team, and learned to play the trumpet. She went to the university and became a nurse. After she was married, she went on a mission with her husband to Brazil, where she learned to speak Portuguese. She has traveled to many countries and has taught the gospel to thousands. She studies the scriptures daily, has written several family history books, works in the temple, keeps track of 62 grandchildren, and can cook 600 doughnuts in one morning!
My mother has stayed in the Savior’s path with unshaken faith in Him (see 2 Ne. 31:19) all the days of her life. She wakes up every day looking forward to new adventures. For her, life is so interesting, and she still has so much to learn.

I was at Manti, Utah, some years ago. As we came out of the Saturday night leadership meeting, there was a heavy snowstorm. As we drove to the home of the stake president, he stopped his car and turned back to the temple hill. There the lighted temple was standing majestically. We sat there in silence for a few moments, inspired by the sight of that beautiful, sacred place. He said, “You know, Brother Lee, that temple is never more beautiful than in times of a dense fog or in times of a heavy, severe storm.”

Just so, never is the gospel of Jesus Christ more beautiful than in times of intense need, or in times of a severe storm within us as individuals, or in times of confusion and turmoil.

Attending sacrament meeting for the first time was a real switch for Cesar. It wasn’t anything like the meetings he was accustomed to.

“There was a man carrying the bread and water trays. He was very busy fixing the microphone and saying hello to everyone. There were so many people there, I wondered if they would all fit in the church! It seemed funny that the man fixing the microphone was the bishop.

“It was also a real change to be in church for three hours; that seemed like a long time. I still remember that first Sunday School class. We talked about the birth of Jesus Christ, and I asked a lot of questions. After class, Betty’s brother, Isaac, helped me find the missionaries. I didn’t go to priesthood meeting that day; instead, I had my first discussion with the missionaries.”

That discussion led to more discussions during the week. By Thursday, he had had an interview with the bishop, and the following Sunday—exactly one week after his first attendance at Sunday meetings—he was baptized.

“It was pretty fast,” Cesar admits, “but by that time I had already read the Book of Mormon. Before meeting the missionaries, I had also read Doctrines of Salvation, Truth Restored, and The Miracle of Forgiveness. I had started reading Jesus the Christ. I felt I was ready.”

Soccer may be Raphael’s sport of choice, but volleyball is most definitely his game. And he is really good at it. He is so good, in fact, that he played in the final game of the high school volleyball nationals. “That,” Raphael says, “was one of the three happiest days of my life.”
It was a friend who introduced Raphael to volleyball. In 2001 a teammate on his soccer team in Recife pointed out that some private high schools offer volleyball scholarships. At the time, Raphael was trying for a soccer scholarship but found his physical skills kept him from playing at the level the coaches wanted. But he seemed to have an unexplored talent for volleyball. “So I played volleyball until I got good at it,” he says. He became so good that he was able to secure a full scholarship to a private high school.
At school, he played in the Recife city championships, then in the regionals in northeast Brazil, one of the most important tournaments in the country. But his success didn’t end there. Not long afterward, he was asked to join the Pernambuco State team to prepare for the national high school tournament. His team won almost all of its games, losing only in the final match. He has the medals to show for it.
“As a volleyball player,” he says, “I’ve learned to play as a member of a team. One person can’t win alone. You have to look out for one another and help one another.”
In the same way, the Church has taught him to play as a member of the Lord’s team. “The Church has taught me to teach and care for others, to always watch for when people need help. There’s no better place to learn to live the gospel than in the Church. The Lord wants all of us to practice the gospel. That’s why I’m going on a mission.”
Raphael will be giving up a college athletic scholarship to do so. Recruited by several schools, he was tempted to accept a scholarship from one of them. But at this point in his life, he would rather serve on a mission than serve on a volleyball court. He knows he is making the right choice.
“As much success as I have had in sports,” he says, “I want to do better as a missionary. I feel that no matter where I go, I can do well—if I let the Lord coach me.”