Gospel Story Finder

As time passed, I inclined more towards God. I was diligent in reading the scriptures, attending church, and doing prayers. However, my fiancé, who was a recent convert, requested that I visit the Mormon Church. With lots of struggles in my life as well as being a longtime investigator, I finally became a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Later, we got married in the Hong Kong China Temple. Today, I am blessed with a happy family with a wife and two beautiful children.
We always try our best to follow the teachings of the Church. My parents used to observe us. After a while, I invited my parents to come to church with us. Following many discussions, my mother became a member of the Church.

Recently I heard a mother recount how she had helped her first three daughters complete their Personal Progress requirements by doing what was expected—staying informed and signing off projects. Then she tenderly explained, tears flowing down her cheek, “Recently I have been working with my fourth daughter by actually doing her projects with her. It has made all the difference in our lives and our relationship. But oh, what sadness I feel when I realize what I lost by not doing this with my other three daughters.” The saddest words of tongue and pen are those that say, “It might have been!”

Let me illustrate with a simple experience from my own professional life. Two years after I graduated from law school I found myself working on a tax law project for a partner in a law firm in Phoenix, Arizona. By that time I had not only finished law school but had completed judicial clerkships for two very good judges at two of the best courts in the country and had passed the bar exam. In my mind I knew how to be a lawyer. Even though I had not had any tax law experience before I received the assignment, I knew quite well where to begin looking for the answer to the question posed to me by the partner. After extensive research of the applicable statutes, regulations, and cases—and after revising several drafts—I confidently presented to the partner a memo that I felt answered his question.

The partner quickly skimmed the memo, read the conclusion, and then confidently opined, “This can’t be the law.”

I was quite taken aback and a little offended. “I’ve read the statutes, the regulations, and the cases,” I responded. “That’s what they say.”

“I don’t care,” he retorted. “Tax law in this area can’t work the way you’ve described it. Go try again.”

It was, to use the term my children often use to describe my less glorious moments, an “epic failure.”

After further discussing the issue with the partner, I examined the problem from several angles that started at different points from the one at which I had first begun. Over time a different analysis appeared—one that changed the answer to the question in a subtle but important way. When I presented a revised memo to the partner with a more in-depth analysis and a different answer, he was satisfied. I asked him at that point whether he had known the answer to the question all along and was just trying to make work for me.

“No,” he replied, “I really didn’t. I just know how these kinds of businesses work, and I have a pretty good feel for tax law. Your earlier approach just didn’t seem right.”

I knew how to acquire abstract legal information; I even knew how to analyze that information in theoretical terms. The partner, however, knew how to be a lawyer—and there is a difference between those two things, just as there is a difference between knowing the attributes of God in an abstract sense and making those attributes a part of our character, which is what our quest for perfection requires.

How do we learn that latter important skill? The partner helped me understand that as well.

When I asked him what it was that allowed him to almost intuit the right answer to the problem, he replied, “It takes good judgment.”

“And how do you acquire good judgment?” I asked.

“Good judgment,” he said, “comes from experience.”

Then, after pausing for just a few seconds and with only a hint of a smile, he added, “And experience comes from bad judgment.” In other words, from failing.

None of us had prepared for family home evening. We realized that fact on Sunday morning as we drove to church. Unfortunately, our schedules were such that we could hold home evenings only on Sunday afternoons. Five-year-old Drew immediately announced that he would make popcorn for refreshments. Stuart, our 12-year-old, groaned when we reminded him he was responsible for the lesson and game. It sounded as though the special talent assignment wouldn’t be so special either.
A meeting kept the children and me after church while my wife, Sandi, played the piano for the choir. On the way home, Stuart informed us that while we were waiting, he had checked out a family home evening manual from the meetinghouse library and was ready with the lesson. Things were starting to look up.
That afternoon, seven-year-old Curt welcomed everyone and called on Holly, our two-year-old, to say the opening prayer. Right then, Holly was breaking a house rule by trying to get into Sandi’s piano-teaching materials. We coaxed her up front, where I tried to help her with the prayer. She would say only, “Amen.” We then discovered that her diaper needed changing, so Sandi took her out.
The boys and I discussed how we were going to attend Stuart’s jazz band concert, watch Drew and Curt’s ball game, and give Sandi time to complete a project at the Church cannery—all on Wednesday night. Sandi and Holly returned in time to hear and approve our plan.
Curt then announced talent time. While Holly played a few random notes on the piano, 10-year-old Spencer played his most recent piece on the bass. Then Sandi and Stuart played a lively piano duet.
We had spent so much time on the concert that we all agreed when Sandi suggested we keep family singing to just one song. She got out a songbook and played a march. Stuart and I moved to the piano to sing over her shoulder, the three little ones marched noisily around the living room, and Spencer lay on the couch.
We enjoyed the singing so much we begged Sandi to play another song. We sang again, and Spencer joined us at the piano while the little ones expanded their march route to include the upstairs bedrooms and a few bounces on the couch. Sandi continued to play while I made sure the bounces were deleted from the parade route. We sang three more songs.
Stuart’s lesson began with a treasure hunt. We followed some paper arrows he had previously placed on the floor to two covered baskets, a smaller one on top bearing a large paper X. The kids crowded around as we opened the small basket—labeled “Hidden Treasure of Goodies”—and all enjoyed a piece of candy. Stuart then opened the large basket—labeled “Hidden Spiritual Treasure.” Inside was a copy of the Book of Mormon.
Stuart told us that the Book of Mormon had been a “hidden treasure.” He asked what that meant, and Curt and Spencer took turns telling how Joseph Smith obtained the gold plates from their hiding place in the Hill Cumorah. Sandi and I sat back and listened while the kids answered Stuart’s questions and Holly wandered off downstairs to find some other treasure. She came back with some cards from a board game. We ignored her because she wasn’t bothering anyone. The discussion went on briefly while Holly made several more trips downstairs. Drew lost interest and began to play quietly with Holly and her cards. Stuart concluded with his testimony of the Book of Mormon and challenged each of us to read it every day for a month. He gave us charts to record our reading.
Spencer commented that he and his friend Adam had been looking at the Old Testament after Primary that day and had found a passage that said, “Truth shall spring out of the earth” (Ps. 85:11). He got his Bible and read the passage, explaining that he’d learned the verse was talking about the Book of Mormon.
The discussion was now informal and spontaneous. Curt had lost interest and was playing with Holly and Drew. I pointed out that there are other biblical phrases referring to the Book of Mormon and its below-ground hiding place. We read, “And thy voice shall be, as of one that hath a familiar spirit, out of the ground, and thy speech shall whisper out of the dust” (Isa. 29:4).
Spencer commented that other churches would not interpret these passages in the same way. For this reason, he said, we need a spiritual witness that the Book of Mormon is the word of God. That inspired me to ask Stuart how he had received his testimony of the Book of Mormon. He replied that he had received it through study and prayer. After some searching, he read us the promise in Moroni 10:3–5 [Moro. 10:3–5].
Stuart’s lesson, one of our better ones, had now gone on for about 20 minutes, and the three smaller children were starting to fight over the game cards. Since Stuart hadn’t planned any games to go along with the lesson, someone suggested we play our favorite guessing game using only Book of Mormon stories.
Stuart climbed onto the piano bench and preached while dodging imaginary stones and arrows. We quickly guessed Samuel the Lamanite. I acted out Enos hunting in the forest and praying all day. Sandi dug a pit and buried her sword; we recognized the Ammonites. The smaller kids could think only of Bible stories, so we used the illustrated Book of Mormon Stories to help. We eventually had pantomimes of Ammon defending King Lamoni’s flocks and Christ appearing to the brother of Jared. This game can go on all night at our house, but we stopped after one round.
Spencer, Drew, and I popped popcorn, and Sandi mixed some punch. We talked around the table until the popcorn was gone. Everyone liked Stuart’s suggestion that we plan a time to go to the park to run and walk, so we organized a family outing while we sat around the table. Later on, at bedtime, we had family prayer.
Although our home evening wasn’t perfect, it was a good one for us. We enjoyed being together, we learned a few things, everyone participated at least part of the time, and most participated most of the time.

Our youngest son, Bryan, like two of his siblings, was born with cystic fibrosis. Despite this health challenge, he was able to serve as an online missionary for two years in the Provo MTC referral center. He was blessed to serve with a small group of highly effective missionaries who fielded thousands of calls and video chats with both friendly and unfriendly enquirers. Each of these wonderful missionaries also had a health challenge, but they served from early morning until late at night teaching people from all over the world.

One of Bryan’s companions was Elder Tyson Boardman. Both Tyson and his brother Trevor struggled with muscular dystrophy, yet both served faithfully in the referral center. On one occasion a young woman contacted the referral center and was taught by Elder Trevor Boardman. She then requested that he be the one to baptize her. Given his muscular dystrophy, performing a baptism would have been very difficult and dangerous; however, a wise priesthood leader had Elder Boardman and his companion Elder Blair Ahlstrom enter the baptismal font together so Elder Ahlstrom could hold up Elder Boardman as they baptized their new friend. That is such a tender and symbolic example of how we should hold on to and lift each other up as we make and keep covenants to bear one another’s burdens.

This same sensitivity he enhanced manyfold through mixing with all types of people and through coming to know their problems. When he was twenty years old, George Albert Smith was engaged as a salesman for Zion’s Cooperative Mercantile Institution, traveling through Southern Utah with a companion known to history only as Jim.
One is impressed with the ability of the future prophet even then to mix well with all types of company. He entertained on occasion with his harmonica and guitar and kept himself in good physical shape by exercising with Indian clubs and dumbbells (occasionally giving an exhibition of his prowess with the same in some of the villages).
His sense of humor, which helped him open many hearts, was evidenced from time to time. A demonstration of this is shown in an incident on the journey involving a jug of whiskey that Jim had brought on the trip to share with his customers. This fact bothered George, when he discovered it, because of his own commitment to the principles of the Word of Wisdom. However, there was no sermon preached by him to his companion, no chastisement—just an idea for a great practical joke somewhere along the route of the journey. The chance came before the two left Provo, about fifty miles south of Salt Lake City. While Jim was away from the wagon, the jug was located and carried off secretly to a friend with instructions for him to empty the whiskey and to fill the jug with water. Then the jug was put back in its original place. Several nights later it was brought out by Jim and the secret was revealed: no whiskey, just a jug full of foul-smelling sulphur water—much to the amusement of President Smith, who often loved to retell this story and others when he himself was the victim of a practical joke.

For Joseph F. Smith, his earliest memories revolved around his mother. He recalled at age six, his father returned from Iowa and made the decision that they would go to Carthage. He remembered his father stopping by the home. There was great emotion between his father and mother. Hyrum must have known that he would not see Mary Fielding Smith again. Joseph F. Smith remembered that he went outside and was playing in the dirt when his father came outside of the house and got on his horse. His father lifted him up and put him in front of him on the horse. As they looked each other, Hyrum said, “Never forget me. I will die for the truth.”

Joseph’s next memory was receiving word that his father was dead. Joseph F. Smith described that he spent the night trying to do childish things to make his mother smile, laugh, anything to help her stop crying, but to no avail.

He then described the next day. He went to the Mansion House where the family gathered to see the martyrs. As Mary Fielding Smith entered the room where the bodies of Joseph and Hyrum lay, she was wearing her finest dress. She had also dressed young Joseph F. in his finest outfit. Joseph recalled that his mother took him over to see his father. He saw his father and heard his mother remind him that he was never to forget his father and that as Hyrum had lived for the truth, Joseph was to live his life accordingly.

I understand what you are going through. I have struggled through difficult times in which my testimony has been shaken. The way I was able to get through it—and gain the strengthened testimony that I have today—was with constant scripture study and prayer. I read my scriptures every opportunity I got. I prayed morning and night, straining to feel the Spirit. Yet it all seemed to be in vain. But one day, when I got home from school, I knelt by my bed. I don’t know how long I prayed, but I did receive an answer. Just pray always. Study the scriptures. You will find the answer you’ve been looking for.
Christopher W., 15, Nevada, USA

“What are we going to do now?” asked Danny as Mom put a batch of cinnamon rolls into the oven.
Before Mom could answer, Elizabeth asked, “Mom, when will Christmas be here? I want to open my presents.”
Mom sighed as she shut the oven door and set the timer. “There’s a lot we can do, Danny, and, Elizabeth, there’s much, much more to Christmas than opening presents.” She sat down. “Let’s see—how about a game?”
The children nodded enthusiastically.
“Elizabeth, I want you to get Baby Jesus from the nativity set in the family room.”
Elizabeth ran into the family room. She quickly came back with Baby Jesus.
“Now, Danny, close your eyes while Elizabeth hides the Baby Jesus. She’ll tell you when you can open them. Then you look for Him. If you’re far away, she’ll say you’re cold or colder. But if you’re getting closer to the hiding place, she’ll say you’re warm or warmer. Do you understand?” When Danny nodded, Mom said, “All right, close your eyes, Danny.”
Danny put his hands over his eyes. Elizabeth quickly put the Baby Jesus on the music stand of the piano. She looked at Mom and silently mouthed, “Is that OK?”
Mom smiled and nodded.
Elizabeth moved back next to Mom. “You can open your eyes now, Danny.”
Danny uncovered his eyes and took several steps toward the couch.
“You’re cold,” said Elizabeth.
“Colder,” Danny heard as he looked under the end table. “Colder. Oh, Danny, you’re as cold as you can get over there by the fireplace!” declared Elizabeth.
Danny slumped his shoulders in frustration and said, “I don’t like this game.”
“Don’t give up,” urged Mom. “Now that you know where the Baby Jesus isn’t, you should have a better idea about where He is.”
Danny thought a minute, then did an about-face.
Elizabeth cheered, “Hooray! You’re getting warmer.”
Then, instead of looking down, Danny looked up at the piano. He smiled and stood tall as he walked toward the piano.
“Warm, warmer, warmest!” declared Elizabeth as he reached out his hand and picked up Baby Jesus.
“Danny wins the game!” announced Mom.
Danny had a great big grin on his face, and Elizabeth had one too. Mom gathered them both in her arms and explained. “You see, the real purpose of Christmas is like our little game. It’s to try to get closer to Jesus. When we do, we feel warm. If you get that good, warm feeling, the Spirit is telling you that you’re doing the kinds of things that Jesus would like.”
Bzzzz!
“The cinnamon rolls are done,” shouted Elizabeth and Danny.
“Why don’t you two put on your coats while I frost the rolls? Then you can deliver some to Mrs. Simms while they’re still hot.”
Elizabeth and Danny rushed into the house after delivering the rolls. “Mom! Mom! Mrs. Simms was so happy to get the rolls that she had tears in her eyes!” reported Danny.
“I think Jesus liked us giving her the rolls, because I feel warm inside,” said Elizabeth. “And if you’re warm, you’re getting closer.”

The first thing is to set a good example. Lots of people become interested in the Church because of the good example members set. Let me share one story with you. Sometime ago, a little friend named Jessica invited one of her nonmember friends over to her house to play. As they were playing, the friend took Heavenly Father’s name in vain. It took courage, but Jessica stopped her and said, “I’m sorry, but in my house we don’t swear or ever use Heavenly Father’s name that way.” Her friend was not angry but, instead, asked Jessica why. This gave Jessica a chance to tell her friend about the Church.
At one time Jesus taught, “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven” (Matt. 5:16). He is instructing us to be good examples everywhere so that people will see how content we are and become interested in what we believe.

When the missionaries taught me the gospel, the friend who gave me the Book of Mormon promised me that if I read it cover to cover in English, I would learn to speak English. I took that promise seriously, so I started reading, even though I didn’t understand much at first. I read and studied the Book of Mormon every day and every night. I even kept it under my pillow so that if I woke up at night, I could start reading again.
Within a year, I spoke English well enough to work in an English-speaking call center. After saving money, I was called to the India Bangalore Mission.
During my mission, I was really concerned about not having all of my family together in the Church. One day I read this verse: “Behold, you have had many afflictions because of your family; nevertheless, I will bless you and your family, yea, … and the day cometh that they will believe and know the truth and be one with you in my church” (Doctrine and Covenants 31:2).
I felt the Spirit so strong that I knew this verse was speaking to me. It took 14 years for that promise to come true in my family. But three years ago, I baptized both of my parents. Now we are all members of the Church except for one of my brothers.
I say this often: “The Church is a place where dreams come true.” Because of the Church, I have the things I desired most. I learned to speak English. I served a mission that was full of miracles. After my mission, I met Radhika, who is now my beautiful wife, and we were sealed in the Bern Switzerland Temple. We have a four-year-old son. My family is with me in the Church. All of my good dreams have come true.

“And what do Mormons believe about marriage?” my high school Spanish teacher asked me.
All of my classmates turned in their seats, listening for my answer. I gulped as I wondered how our class discussion had wandered from Don Quixote and Dulcinea to dating and marriage.
There wasn’t another member of the Church in the class. What should I say? How much detail should I give? Would everyone make fun of me if I talked about eternal marriage?
“We, uh … ,” I stammered, still uncertain what to say.
Just then, my friend Denise came to my rescue. “Mormons have a beautiful view of marriage,” she said. “They believe that marriages performed in their temples can last forever.”
“That is beautiful,” our teacher replied. Even my classmates seemed satisfied.
With that, class resumed and I was left wondering why I had been sweating over a question that my nonmember friend answered so easily.

Early in our married life when Sister Nelson and I lived in Minneapolis, we decided to enjoy a free afternoon with our two-year-old daughter. We went to one of Minnesota’s many beautiful lakes and rented a small boat. After rowing far from shore, we stopped to relax and enjoy the tranquil scene. Suddenly, our little toddler lifted one leg out of the boat and started to go overboard, exclaiming, “Time to get out, Daddy!”
Quickly we caught her and explained, “No, dear, it’s not time to get out; we must stay in the boat until it brings us safely back to land.” Only with considerable persuasion did we succeed in convincing her that leaving the boat early would have led to disaster.

Some time ago I counseled a student who struggled with self-harm behavior. As I tried to understand why she felt compelled to cut herself she described to me that she felt unworthy as a person and that she felt that she needed to be punished for her unworthiness. She could not identify any specific reasons that she was unworthy; she could only convey a nebulous sense of not measuring up. This student expressed a belief in the atonement, but she felt that it didn’t really apply to her. I was struck by her lack of understanding of the personal nature of the atonement of Jesus Christ.

The sound of raindrops on the car windshield. The chirp of crickets on a summer night. The distressing cry of a baby. The ringing of the telephone down the hall. All everyday sounds, but they are sounds that are becoming part of Shellee Carrick’s life now that she no longer lives in silence.
Shellee has been deaf since she lost most of her hearing during a case of meningitis when she was 18 months old. But now, thanks to the efforts of Kristina Coleman, a student at Pleasant Grove High School in Utah, where Shellee is the American Sign Language teacher, Shellee has received a cochlear implant and is now being introduced to the noisy, musical, thumping sounds that surround her.
But the sounds that motivated her, that made her go along with the amazing offer made by one of the studentbody officers at the high school, the sounds she wanted to hear more than anything, were the sweet voices of her little children.
The story of how these two young women met and became friends is a great one with a happy ending. As she prepared to graduate from high school, Kristina was required, as were all others in her class, to complete a project during her senior year. She heard some friends who were taking Shellee’s sign language class talking about cochlear implants. These devices are surgically implanted in the inner ear with a microphone and digital processor worn outside, under the hair. At first, Kristina was only going to write a paper about the technology. But because Shellee wanted the implant so badly, Kristina’s plans soon became more elaborate. What is even more remarkable about Kristina’s determination is that she really did not know Shellee well and wasn’t one of her students.
Looking back, Kristina says, “I do think Heavenly Father inspired me to do this project. I think several things prepared me for this.”
Kristina was serving as student body historian. Just being on student council and having to plan events and speak to strangers prepared Kristina for the work she would do to help Shellee get a cochlear implant.
The implants and accompanying surgery are expensive, and Shellee’s insurance would not cover them. At first, Kristina thought it would be easy to raise the money. She planned to e-mail many places explaining the need, and then the funds would pour in. Kristina says, “That didn’t work at all. I didn’t get one donation that way. I was going to have to call personally. The first phone call was hard; then it just got easier.”
Kristina found a grant program where Shellee could apply to get the device donated. Then it was just the cost of the surgery, a much more attainable amount, that needed to be raised. When news that Shellee qualified for the grant arrived, she called Kristina to her classroom and announced the news to Kristina and her students at the same time. Between the cheering and the crying, it was a great day.
Shellee underwent the operation, and her family and Kristina gathered on the day the implant was turned on for the first time. Shellee had been warned not to expect too much. Then her daughter, one-year-old Kylee, started crying, wanting to be held. Shellee turned to the small crowd in the room and asked incredulously, “Is that Kylee crying? I can hear her!”
Although implants are not the answer for everyone, Shellee has been intrigued with learning to figure out what the sounds she hears mean. “There are so many sounds I’ve never heard,” said Shellee. “I don’t know what they are. I have to learn like a baby does.” Austen, her four-year-old son, is delighted to demonstrate noises for his mom. He opens the front door and rings the doorbell or claps. Daily life has become both adventurous and frustrating. Shellee says that she didn’t realize how much Austen talks while she is driving.
Naturally, the relationship between Shellee and Kristina is a special one. During the months arranging everything, the two became close. “We e-mailed every day. We talked all the time,” said Shellee. “We became good friends. She will be part of my life forever.”
Kristina was excited with the outcome of her senior project. “I’ve cried so many times over this. Not only has Shellee received an implant, but I have a new friend. It’s changed my life. I learned what the power of one person or a group of people can do. Just to know that you can do things that seem impossible at first is great.”

For over forty years Rei lived and worked in the forest. Then a serious back injury ended his days of heavy physical labor, confronting him with financial ruin and a depressing life of inactivity. One morning after the children had gone to school, he and his wife knelt in their bedroom and prayed for a solution to their predicament. As they rose from their knees Rei noticed that their six-year-old daughter had left for school without taking her ballpoint pen and drawing pad. He picked it up and began to draw, something he hadn’t done since his early days in primary school. It was an inspired beginning.
With much practice he developed a unique and unorthodox style—which combined the meticulous attention to detail of Van Eyck (1370?–1440, Flemish painter with the technique of such French pointillists as Seurat (1859–1891)—arrived at completely on his own. He used few strokes in his drawings; the vast majority of each piece was made up of tiny dots formed from tapping his pen on the paper or parchment.
Feeling embarrassed with his first drawings, Rei hid them. But his wife found them and took them to a local photographer to be photographed. The photographer was impressed with their quality and took them to the director of a leading art gallery in Auckland, who immediately wanted to stage a show of Rei’s work. He also introduced the artist to mapping pens with very fine points. This enabled Rei to develop the control to do the superb detail in his works for which he has become famous. His new career was launched. Since that time he has exhibited his work in nearly every major town and city of New Zealand. Recently he returned from a 19,300 kilometer tour of the country, exhibiting his work and lecturing about the native New Zealand environment for which he has become a major spokesman. Rei is now nearing his hundredth exhibition in nearly thirteen years. Recently he received an invitation to tour Russia, lecturing about conservation and exhibiting his art.

Razafindravaonasolo’s father was called as the branch president. One day he met with me and encouraged me to prepare for a mission. I didn’t think I could serve, but he reassured me that I could. I accepted the call to serve in the Madagascar Antananarivo Mission. I am married now and I have two kids. I am grateful for my family, and I have had more experiences than I can share that have helped me know that this Church is true.
After joining the Church, Rakotomalala (right) served in the Madagascar Antananarivo Mission, and Razafindravaonasolo (left) served in the Democratic Republic of the Congo Kinshasa Mission.

Let us walk these clearly defined paths. To help us do so we can follow the shortest sermon in the world. It can be found on a common traffic sign. It reads, “Keep Right.”

This advice was found and followed by Joe, who had been asked to get up at six in the morning and drive a crippled child 50 miles to a hospital. He didn’t want to do it, but he didn’t know how to say no. A woman carried the child out to the car and set him next to the driver’s seat, mumbling thanks through her tears. Joe said everything would be all right and drove off quickly.

After a mile or so, the child inquired shyly, “You’re God, aren’t you?”

“I’m afraid not, little fellow,” replied Joe.

“I thought you must be God,” said the child. “I heard Mother praying next to my bed and asking God to help me get to the hospital, so I could get well and play with the other boys. Do you work for God?”

“Sometimes, I guess,” said Joe, “but not regularly. I think I’m going to work for Him a lot more from now on.”

The last week home was sad. I wasn’t having second thoughts or anything, but I sure was scared, and I realized how homesick I was going to be.
A couple of days before I left home to enter the MTC, I decided to walk from our house to Gus’s station, about two miles away, just to visit him at work one last time.
As I walked, I thought about Gus and myself. We’re the only kids in our home. We’ve always been close, even though we’re so different and he’s five years older.
Gus used to be active in the Church. He had become a deacon. Then about the time he entered junior high school he started to rebel. My parents were patient but heartbroken.
Gus was tough and mean and popular. I was never Paul—I was Gus’s little brother. But that was okay, because the big guys left me alone.
People marveled we were brothers.
When I was a senior in high school I had already decided to serve a mission, so my hair was always cut short—missionary style. That school year Gus and I would always go to lunch together.
He’d lock up his station and pick me up in front of the high school on his mean Harley-Davidson. We sure must have looked funny riding down the street—Gus with his beard and long hair, something out of a motorcycle gang, and me, “Mr. Clean,” your basic prospective missionary.
I approached Gus’s station that day from a trail in back of it and was rounding the corner to go into the office when I overheard Gus talking to someone about me. I stopped to listen. They didn’t know I was there.
“Did I tell you Paul is going on a mission?” Gus asked.
“Yer kiddin?” It was the voice of Rod, Gus’s best friend, my worst enemy.
“Nope, I’m real proud of the kid.”
“He’s a ‘boot licker,’” Rod cynically responded. “You don’t believe all that stuff about Joseph Smith do ya?”
I doubled my fist in instant anxiety.
How would Gus answer the question? Would he say what he really felt to Rod? His influence had always persuaded Gus to do wrong, which was why I disliked him so much.
Gus thought before he answered.
I can’t explain what his words did to me when he finally spoke. There are things in life you’ll never forget.
“Well, Rod buddy,” he said, “let me tell you. I don’t know everything; neither do you. It could be true. All I know is it sure makes a difference in Paul. He loves it.”
Rod continued to attack me.
“He idolizes you, Gus. He’d do anything you told him to, even if he thought it was wrong.”
“No he wouldn’t,” Gus defended. “He’s never been anything like me. If more Mormons were like him, I could maybe stand being around them. Nothing’s worse than a self-righteous Mormon. He’s never judged me. And he hasn’t given my parents nearly the heartache I have.”
Then Gus said something that really made me think.
“Anyway, if I ever caught him doing something wrong, if he ever let me down, so help me, I’d punch him out.”
I left them talking and started back home without them ever knowing I had been there. A lump formed in my throat as I realized why Gus had seemed so excited about my mission. Now I knew why he had always supported me.
You see, he needed me to be strong where he had been weak. I vowed that very day I would be strong for him. I’d resist my temptations. I would not let him down. He needed to know someone could be good. I would be.

That experience made it somewhat easier for me to make a difficult decision just one year later. Again Christmas time had come. We were preparing for the oven a gigantic turkey and anticipating the savory feast that awaited. A neighborhood pal of mine asked a startling question: “What does turkey taste like?”

I responded, “Oh, about like chicken tastes.”

Again a question: “What does chicken taste like?”

It was then that I realized that my friend had never eaten chicken or turkey. I asked what his family was going to have for Christmas dinner. There was no prompt response—just a downcast glance and the comment, “I dunno. There’s nothing in the house.”

I pondered a solution. There was none. I had no turkeys, no chickens, no money. Then I remembered I did have two pet rabbits. Immediately I took my friend by the hand and rushed to the rabbit hutch, placed the rabbits in a box, and handed the box to him with the comment, “Here, take these two rabbits. They’re good to eat—just like chicken.”

He took the box, climbed the fence, and headed for home, a Christmas dinner safely assured. Tears came easily to me as I closed the door to the empty rabbit hutch. But I was not sad. A warmth, a feeling of indescribable joy, filled my heart. It was a memorable Christmas.