Gospel Story Finder

Kimberly Martino, 13, along with her parents, four sisters, and her brother, accepted the challenge given them and the other members of the Lewisville Texas Stake to read the Book of Mormon as a family.
“I thought it was neat when we finally finished,” Kimberly said. “We made a goal and we reached it. And at a stake fireside I was able to tell the story about how Nephi’s bow broke when he went into the wilderness to hunt.”
Kimberly’s stake president, President Gordon T. Watts, came up with the idea. “I called it the ‘100-Day Book of Mormon Program.’ It was the end of May, and I challenged everyone to read the Book of Mormon by September 1st.” Kimberly and her family, along with more than 100 members of the stake, received certificates of completion.

MICHAEL: I started with alcohol. I started just because of curiosity and a little peer pressure. I was popular and had a lot of friends at school who drank.

MICHAEL: I felt, “Hey, this isn’t bad.” My parents had put this big warning of doom over alcohol and drugs, like I was going to die or get some weird disease, and I was feeling just fine. I figured they didn’t know what they were talking about.

MICHAEL: I continued to use, and as time went on, I found that I started looking at things differently. My priorities changed. I was using more and more alcohol and running around with people I previously wouldn’t have hung out with. At age 16 I dropped out of school. I had really been into sports, but I stopped all that. I’d started smoking marijuana and had gone on to cocaine.

My parents put me into a drug treatment center. When I got out I went back to using and got heavy into cocaine, crank, and crack.

My Mormon values had gone right out the door. I kept running away, and I was stealing money. I was in trouble with the law. My relationship with my parents had gone downhill. They couldn’t trust me, and I was belligerent.

I’m lucky to be alive. I had friends who died.

It was ten-year-old Joshua’s turn to teach the family home evening lesson. It was on faith. When he finished, he told his family, “If you have faith, you can do anything.”
His mother replied, “Well, almost anything.”
“No, Mom.” Joshua said. “You can do anything.”
Little did the Dennis family know that within days, their faith would be tested. On Friday, 22 September 1989, Joshua went with his dad and other leaders and members of a Boy Scout troop from Kearns, Utah, to explore an abandoned mine. After looking around inside the mine for some time, Joshua and some of the Scouts decided to turn back. They met Joshua’s dad and some other Scouts heading out of the mine, and Joshua gave his flashlight to his dad, who was leaving the tunnel with a visually handicapped boy.
Then Joshua decided to follow some older Scouts back into the mine tunnel, but they did not know that Joshua was behind them. They began to run. Joshua couldn’t keep up with them and was soon left behind in total darkness. He couldn’t even see his hand in from of his face.
He turned around and tried to feel his way back to the entrance, but he made a wrong turn and slid down a slope. He climbed back up but went too far and ended up in an ore stope—a cavity where ore has been mined out—about two meters wide and seven meters deep. The stope was almost impossible to see from the main tunnel below because of rocks.
“I tried to find my way out for a long time,” Joshua recalled. He yelled, but his cries were muffled and no one heard him. By this time, he was tired and cold and his feet were wet. “I knew I was lost, and I realized I had better just sit down and wait,” he said.
Joshua slept a lot. Sometimes he would stand up and stretch or just sit and think. For five days Joshua had no food or water and only his coat to keep him warm in the 10° C temperature.
But he wasn’t afraid. “I prayed a lot that Heavenly Father would help me,” he said, and his prayers were answered with a feeling of comfort and with faith that he would be found. “I felt that I was being watched over by Heavenly Father.”
While Joshua was praying, friends and family were also fasting and praying that he would be found in safety. His parents waited anxiously for reports on the search for their son.
Many volunteers helped search the surrounding foothills, which are full of abandoned mines and air shafts. At least seven times some of them passed within forty meters of Joshua.
The longer the search continued, the more certain many people became that Joshua was not in the mine but had wandered away from it. Search dogs, helicopters, and people on horseback and on foot searched the cliff-lined hills of nearby Dry Canyon. There was no trace of the boy.
Inside the mine, Joshua waited calmly for someone to find him. To help pass the time, he sang “I Am a Child of God” and other songs that he had learned in Primary.
As each day passed, the chance of finding Joshua alive grew less, but members of the rescue team were determined to not give up.
When the search party came out of the mine after another unsuccessful rescue attempt on the afternoon of the fifth day, a Church member, John Skinner, persuaded the men in charge to let him go in with the other searchers for a final attempt. “I just had a feeling that he was still in the mine and that he was still alive,” he explained.
John Skinner had explored the Hidden Treasure Mine 120 times and was very familiar with the dozens of passages that wind through the eight levels. He could picture in his mind at least three places where Joshua might be. One of those places was the ore stope.
As the other searchers made another sweep through the mine, he, Ray Guymon, and Gary Christensen separated from the group, and John Skinner led them to the sections of the mine where he thought the boy might be. When they finally came to the ore cavity, they heard a faint cry for help but were not sure what it was. They remained still until they heard it again. The excitement grew as they and Joshua yelled back and forth, trying to find each other in the darkness.
“My heart just started pumping and pounding,” recalled Gary Christensen, the first to reach Joshua. “I wrapped my arms around him, and he wrapped his arms around me.”
“I felt like we were led there by the Lord,” Ray Guymon said.
All three men said it was very difficult to describe the feelings they had when they found Joshua, whom they had never seen before.
“I felt like he was my own,” Gary Christensen said. “I was just really happy inside.”
“It was an overwhelming feeling when we found him,” John Skinner said.
As Joshua was brought out of the mine, there were tears of joy and relief on the faces of many. Joshua, although excited, remained calm—he had not doubted that he would be found.
Because there was no light inside the mine, Joshua had lost track of time. He was surprised when he found out that he had been lost for so long. Dehydrated from going so long without water, and suffering mild frostbite on his feet, he was flown to a hospital, where he rested and doctors examined him.
At first the doctors thought they would have to amputate his little toes. But all he lost was some skin from his feet. He had to be in a wheelchair for about a week. Physical therapy strengthened his leg and foot muscles, and before long he was walking, running, and even riding his skateboard again.
Joshua received more than a thousand letters, many from other school children who wanted to know more about him and his experience. While he was lost, the students at Fox Hills Elementary School, where he was in the fifth grade, tied yellow ribbons on the fences all around their school to show that they were thinking about him and hoping that he would be back soon. It really made Joshua feel good to know that so many people cared about him. He tells everyone, “Heavenly Father does answer your prayers. Have faith and don’t give up.”

Some time ago Elder Paul V. Johnson of the Seventy, with his wife, was serving in an Area Presidency in Chile. One Friday he needed to travel 900 miles (1,450 km) from their home in Santiago to reorganize a stake presidency.
After he arrived at his destination on Friday night, he received a call telling him that his wife was in the hospital. When he spoke with Sister Johnson, she explained that she had fallen down some stairs and shattered her kneecap. Assuring him that she was being well cared for and wouldn’t be in surgery until Monday or Tuesday, she encouraged him to finish his assignment to reorganize the stake and preside at the stake conference.
Calmed by her words, Elder Johnson immediately sent an email to his quorum leader in Salt Lake City to report the situation. Then he made plans to continue his assignment. There is a lesson to be learned in his response: first, he reported the situation to his quorum leader, and then he went ahead with his assignment.
The Quorums of the Seventy are organized in such a way that each member has specific stewardship over others, including tender watchcare for emeritus members of the quorum. Because of assignments around the world, quorum members normally cannot visit in person; however, they keep in contact through telephone calls, emails, texts, and other electronic means. Each member is asked to advise his quorum leader immediately of any significant changes in personal or family situations, which is exactly what Elder Johnson did.
In Elder Johnson’s case, his priesthood leader was Elder Claudio R. M. Costa, who was then serving as a member of the Presidency of the Seventy. Elder Costa called Elder Johnson the next morning while Elder Johnson was in the middle of interviewing local leaders. Elder Costa felt that Elder Johnson should return home but listened carefully as Elder Johnson explained why he felt his wife was all right and he could finish the stake reorganization. Elder Costa told Elder Johnson to continue while he did some checking.
About two hours later Elder Costa called Elder Johnson and told him that he had talked with quorum leaders about the situation and that they felt he needed to be with Sister Johnson. Elder Johnson was advised that a ticket was waiting for him at the airport and that Elder Carlos H. Amado was on his way to finish the reorganization of the stake presidency.
When Elder Johnson arrived at the hospital, he found his wife in a great deal of pain. Adding to her distress was the fact that she didn’t speak the language of the medical staff that surrounded her. She needed her husband. The inspired, brotherly concern of his quorum leaders had brought Elder Johnson to her side.
“I feel cared for in this quorum,” said Elder Johnson, “and there is a lot of faith and energy behind that care. I truly feel part of a quorum. I think that if I were ever called into the presidency of an elders quorum, I would be a better president because of my experience in this one.”

I want you to know that Sister Beck's observation was true of me when I was your age. I knew I wanted to get married, and I knew I wanted to be a father, but I wasn't necessarily preparing with that role in mind. As a matter of fact, my wife reminded me that the day she approached me with a twinkle in her eye and said, "I feel like it's time to start our family," I took a very long walk--so long that it worried her. It wasn't that I didn't agree or that I doubted her timing or ability to receive revelation. I think I was just overwhelmed with the thought that my life was about to change forever and that I wasn't ready. Now fast-forward 20 or so years. Just the other day, I made this note in my journal: "Sometimes being a dad is exhausting, but I can't think of anything I'd rather do!"

At first glance, it looks like a rainbow is running wild. It’s twisting and turning and flowing all over a lush green hillside, in seemingly random motion.
But take a closer look, and you’ll see that the rainbow is made up of hundreds of girls in brightly colored T-shirts. They’ve come to this campground near Richmond, Virginia, for a three-day mother-daughter gathering, and each stake has been assigned certain colored T-shirts that correspond with each of the Young Women values.
The motion of the rainbow is actually being orchestrated by a small airplane flying overhead. It’s strafing the girls with packets of candy, and they follow its erratic flight over the hillside in hopes of catching extra sweets for their mothers and friends.
The theme of the encampment is “A More Excellent Way,” and all the activities, meetings, and programs focus on how living the Young Women values can help make lives better.
Included are songs, dances, talks, cheers, and even a rap by “Run LDS” that stresses the Young Women values.
But nowhere are those values more apparent than in the lives of the girls themselves. They are the values personified, each adding her own unique color to the rainbow that could only be formed when nearly 1,000 LDS women collect in one place.
Most doctors would be stunned to see Maria Turman at the encampment. As a matter of fact, they would be surprised to see her alive and smiling at all. Just a few short weeks ago, they were sure she was dying of brain cancer.
“I could barely stand the thought of what she would have to endure through whatever time she had left,” said her mother. “So we went home and called everyone we knew and asked them to pray for her. People of every faith joined us in prayer, and her name was in many of the temples.”
People fasted for her. People prayed for her. And they supported her in other ways too—like those who stood by her in the hospital, and the friend who told her that if she had to shave off her beautiful hair, he would shave his head too and, who knows, maybe they’d start a fad.
After a grueling two weeks of treatment and testing, her doctor came to her in total shock. “There’s been a miracle,” he said. “This girl does not have brain cancer. She does have another disease, but it is not fatal.”
Through all this Maria and everyone involved developed an incredible amount of faith—faith in the power of prayer, faith in the power of the priesthood from which blessings came that said she would be restored, and faith in the power and love of Heavenly Father.
Maria adds a sparkling, pure white to the rainbow.
Things don’t always go perfectly for everyone. All prayers aren’t always answered in the way we expect. Such was the case for one Laurel who would have given anything to have her non-LDS mother at the encampment with her.
“I prayed all summer long that my mom would share this weekend with me,” she said. “She didn’t. I cried, and I felt pretty down. I saw all the love between the mothers and daughters here, and I wished I could have that too. I have a friend here who was in the same position, so we decided to kneel down, just the two of us, and pray.
“I’ve never felt the Spirit so strong in all my life,” she continued. “I knew that Heavenly Father was right there with me. I knew that I’m his daughter and that I’m loved by him.”
Her mother did not attend the encampment with her, but she was able to learn about the love of another Parent. Knowing of that love and of her own divine nature will sustain her through trials for the rest of her life, and enables her to add a magnificent blue to the rainbow.
The women in the Perkins family were sorely missed back home. Their men were sitting silent in their plantation house at the end of a long, dirt road. The family plays bluegrass music together, but Susan, who plays the piano and upright bass, wasn’t around.
Lynda, the mother, who had never been separated from her husband except to give birth to a child, wasn’t there either. And Stacey, who adds the smile and sparkle, was also absent.
With the fuss the men put up about their leaving, there was no doubt in the women’s minds about their individual worth.
But they knew they needed to learn more about their lives as daughters of a Heavenly Father who loves them.
So off they went to the encampment, where they add their vibrant red to the rainbow.
Knowledge made the difference in Denver Mendiola’s life—knowledge of the English language, which she learned only two years ago, and, most important, knowledge of the truthfulness of the gospel.
Twelve-year-old Denver has not had an easy life. She was born in the Philippines, and her family was introduced to the gospel by missionaries tracting there. When Denver was ten, her mother was shot and killed, and her family divided. Denver came to the U.S. to live with her sister.
But Denver is not bitter. In fact, she was one of the happiest, most energetic girls at the encampment. Even when a minor accident caused her to need stitches, she was smiling and had a ready laugh. She’ll tell you it was because the doctor who sewed her up was gorgeous, but her positive attitude goes deeper than that. “I know that I’ll see my mother again, and that makes me happy,” she says. “I love being Mormon, and I know that the Church is true.”
That knowledge gives Denver a merry green to add to the rainbow.
It’s a critical time for Leah Guzman. The decisions she’s making now will affect her forever.
For most of her life, Leah attended her father’s church. But recently, since her parents split up, she’s been going to church with her mother at the Virginia Beach Third Ward. Although she’d attended LDS meetings when she was younger, it’s still a bit new to her, and she’s in the middle of deciding just how important the Church will be in her life.
The decision to come to the encampment was a big one for her, and she’s happy she made it. “I’m glad I came,” Leah said. “At the other church they had carnivals once a year and a church fair, but nothing like this, where you really get to know each other and learn things. I’ve decided to start coming to this church all the time. It’s different and I like it.”
Leah has many other important decisions ahead, but the one she’s already made adds a beautiful, bright orange to the rainbow.
Shanon Graber of Virginia Beach is the type of person who dives right into things with energy and enthusiasm. That’s why she was so successful with the fund-raising projects the youth in her ward sponsored all year long.
They did pizza sales and Valentine cookie sales and doughnut sales and garage sales. The girls in the ward needed money for girls’ camp and youth conference, as well as the mother-daughter encampment, and it was taking an awful lot of work.
But Shanon shined. She put her shoulder and her heart to it and ended up making more than enough to cover her expenses. So what did she do with the excess? “Sister Murdock?” she asked her adviser, “do any of the other girls need any help?” Shanon, a Mia Maid, ended up donating enough money for two more girls to come to the encampment.
Those good works help her add a brilliant yellow to the rainbow.
“It was the first time I’d performed in public in four years,” said Gretchen Williams, from Newport News, when talking about her performance the night before in the opening program. She danced a ballet solo while a friend sang a song. What most people didn’t know is the she’d given up her beloved ballet several years earlier because she was afflicted by painful arthritis.
When Gretchen arrived at the encampment, she discovered that the stage would be much smaller and shaped differently than the one she’d rehearsed on. It would have been easy to back out, using her physical pain or the unfamiliar stage as an excuse. After all, under the given circumstances, there was no way she could perform her best, and hundreds of people would be watching. But Gretchen wouldn’t think of pulling out.
She realized, as the program she performed in said, “Integrity is doing what you know you should do, even it it’s inconvenient or difficult.”
And with that she adds a deep, rich purple to the rainbow.
Each girl at the encampment contributed her own, unique shade, and the mothers helped mix them together. “This is so good for our girls—being able to come here and share with so many other people who have the same morals and standards as they do,” said Linda Floyd of Waynesborough. “We’re all just walking around about two feet off the ground.”
Nothing could dampen their spirits, not even the warm Virginia rains that came and ended the encampment a day early. The rainbow colors ran a bit, but only to become beautifully blended.
People worked together to make sure that everyone left dry and happy.
“It’s programs like these that make mother-daughter relationships that last for eternity,” said Tara Romney, from Newport News.
The commitments, the decisions, and the loving relationships that were made and cultivated that weekend certainly do have eternal significance. They create a brilliant, beautiful rainbow that will span from this life into the next.

I was 13 years old when I first saw the full-time missionaries. I was living apart from my family at the time, going to school in another town in the Philippines. One day while riding the bus, I saw two nicely dressed young men sitting near me. I didn’t know who they were, but I was impressed with what I assumed were their uniforms. For some reason, I wanted to wear one, too.

My father’s dying words impressed me so deeply that I did wear the “uniform” of a full-time missionary. I served in the Philippines Quezon City Mission.

Weeks had passed since my adult daughter had moved to a new city, and each Sunday that she missed church brought me the same concerns. Would she ever return to church? I tried everything I could think of to get her there: encouragement, logic, pleading, acting as her personal alarm clock, prayer, fasting, even calling her bishop. Since we lived 2,000 miles (3,220 km) apart, it was difficult for me to attend with her, but I even tried that!
I continually imagined that if I could just tweak the situation a little, my daughter would reestablish her spiritual trajectory. I felt I just needed the right person—her visiting teacher, her bishop, a friend or family member—to be placed in her path to say or do just the thing that would steer her back. But nothing was working. My head spun with worry, and my heart filled with guilt and anguish that I had failed her as a parent.
My daughter has not yet returned to church. But our goals are clear; we are both working to stay close. We talk frequently, and I know her LDS upbringing has helped her to become kind, disciplined, and thoughtful. While I would never have chosen for her to take the path she is currently traveling, I am grateful for the lessons we are learning along the way. And I have found peace as I embrace our unique positions in our journeys back home.

Jesus Christ told the Prophet Joseph Smith many important things to help us. The Church set up a printing press to print Jesus’s words. That way people would be able to read them.
One day, a group of angry men came. They destroyed the printing press. They threw the pages of the scriptures out into the street.
Two sisters named Mary Elizabeth and Caroline Rollins saw what happened. They ran and gathered the pages in their arms.
The girls hid in a cornfield until the men left. They had saved the scriptures! Those scriptures later became part of the Doctrine and Covenants.

When I was 10 years old, my family became refugees in a new land. I had always been a good student in school—that is, until we arrived in West Germany. There my educational experience was a significantly different one. The geography we studied in my school was new to me. The history we studied was also very different. Before, I had been learning Russian as a second language; now, it was English. This was hard for me. Indeed, there were moments when I truly believed my tongue simply was not made to speak English.
Because so much of the curriculum was new and strange to me, I fell behind. For the first time in my life, I began to wonder if I was simply not smart enough for school.
Fortunately I had a teacher who taught me to be patient. He taught me that steady and consistent work—patient persistence—would help me to learn.
Over time, difficult subjects became clearer—even English. Slowly I began to see that if I applied myself consistently, I could learn. It didn’t come quickly, but with patience, it did come.

It is the hidden, and not so hidden, secret: "What should I do?" a TVA student once asked me. "I hear the fighting. I hear the hitting and the pleading, and I think I should do something, but I don't know what." I understand this sense of helplessness. When my husband and I encountered a battling neighbor couple on our country road not long ago, we didn't know what to do either. Their van was blocking the road, she in the driver's seat, he outside attempting to drag her from it. Both were yelling, each was beating on the other. Our efforts to distract them failed, and after some moments, she drove into the nearby field and out of view. He quickly followed. A few weeks later they and their three children moved from our neighborhood. Need I say that they haunt us? Like the TVA student, we were unprepared to act. What we saw, and what he heard, we abhorred, but none of us had thought to rehearse our intervention, what we would do to cross the threshold into action. And few of you have thought what to do should you find yourselves in an abusive relationship, abused or abuser. Or what to do, being there at this time.

But the boys did their part too. “We recruited everybody to be in the troop,” said Brother Steurer’s son Rodney, 14. His brother Geoffrey, 13, and another Scout, Mark Choate, 15, said that soon their friends Michael Bradfield and Neil Hammock were part of the troop, and of course they asked lots of questions about the Church. Now both Mike and Neil are not only Scouts, but also members of the deacons and teachers quorums, both serving in leadership positions.

Permit me to illustrate this point with an example from the life of my sweetheart and best friend, Sharon. In April 2002, Sharon’s fifty-six-year-old father, Mike, suffered a major heart attack one day at work. As a result of a lack of oxygen to the brain, he was in a coma for a week. Many friends and family members prayed and fasted, he received multiple blessings, and his name was placed on the prayer roll at multiple temples, but, regardless of these efforts, it was his time to die (see D&C 42:43–48). As the months passed, we came to some measure of peace regarding his early and unexpected death.
At the time, Sharon was working with the young children at church as the Primary president. It was her turn to teach the children, and the topic was “God Hears and Answers My Prayers.” We talked a lot about that lesson and the dilemma it presented for her, and Doctrine and Covenants 18:18 and 88:64 were particularly helpful at the time.
My wife said, “I know God hears and answers our prayers, but if in the end He is going to do what is His will, why should I pray for what I want and need? My dad died anyway because it was God’s will. My prayers have not been the same since he died.”
If you have not yet experienced that kind of despair in your prayers, you likely will. 37 For some of you that moment is now.
So what did Sharon teach the children? Up until the night before she was not sure what to say. When the day came, she simply taught, through her tears, “I know that God hears and answers every prayer. He does not always give us the answer we want, and that really hurts. But I believe you will do better in your life by praying than by not praying. That is why I pray every day.”
Acting on true principles, even when your heart says otherwise, takes true courage. And as a result, Sharon received a measure of healing that day through the grace of Jesus Christ. One of my favorite parts about being married to Sharon—and there are many—is to listen to her pray in faith for our children, extended family, and others in need. She knows how to talk to Heavenly Father.

One of these lesser pieces has helped me learn an enduring lesson. I was in the Salt Lake Temple one day, preparing to leave the dressing room after participating in an ordinance for the dead. Noticing a drinking fountain, I realized I was thirsty, so I bent down for a quick drink. A message came into my mind:
You drink this water in the temple, but do you really drink the living water that is available here?
It wasn’t a pounding condemnation—just a gentle rebuke and a soul-penetrating question.
My answer to that question was no. I wasn’t completely drinking the temple’s living water. I had to admit that my mind had wandered minutes earlier as I received ordinances for the dead. Although I had done a good work for people who needed my help, I hadn’t allowed myself to receive all the help I needed.
Now, every time I go to a temple, I look for a drinking fountain and stop for a drink. I ask myself how deeply I am drinking from the fountain of living water. My answer: Still not deeply enough. But my thirst is increasing.

I thought that righteousness was no more nor less than doing everything and anything asked of me by leaders of the Church. I guess I thought righteousness was somehow a system, a set of rules. So, I made this my goal and began. I filled a mission, married in the temple, was almost immediately ordained a high priest and called as a counselor in a bishopric, and subsequently held many other callings. I tried to regularly attend the temple, learn and do genealogy, hold family home evenings, pay tithes and offerings, give to the ward budget and building fund, and simply do whatever my bishop asked.
I could not deny that the rewards from these activities were great. But I also could not claim that I became wonderfully righteous as a result. Somehow, I was still troubled by feelings of guilt and unworthiness. I was still retaining the little character faults and other evils in my soul. Church activities alone didn’t seem to be eradicating my sins.
My first reaction when I realized all my efforts weren’t getting rid of my sins was to redouble my effort. I found myself increasingly concerned with obtaining some measure or recognition of success in the Church. Like many of us, I was mistakenly assuming that a call to high position was equivalent to the Lord’s approval. It took me several years to get rid of this misconception.
Another result of my goal to do everything I could in the Church was that I found myself feeling frustrated and guilty at times because I could not understand all the instructions I was receiving from Church leaders. Sometimes I heard, “Do this; it is most important.” Other times it seemed that something else had priority. When I felt torn between two “good,” my goal to simply do whatever I was asked didn’t help me make those hard decisions. Frustration and guilt set in when I found I simply didn’t have time to fulfill every church and family responsibility in a satisfactory way every time.
In time, I realized some important things. First, I realized that although my goal—righteousness—was still there, I had been mistaken in the means of achieving it. I had sought for external evidence rather than internal assurances from my Heavenly Father. I also saw that fulfilling the expectations of other people was not only not fully possible, but did not make me feel totally righteous. So I began again.

Some years ago Albert Peters told of the experience he and his companion had of a man being born again. One day they went to the hut of Atiati in the village of Sasina in Samoa. There they found an unshaven, unkempt, misshapen man lying on a bed. He asked them to come in and introduce themselves. He was pleased to know they were missionaries and wanted to hear their message. They presented the first discussion, bore witness to him, and then left. As they walked away, they discussed Atiati’s condition. He had had polio 22 years before that had left him without the use of his arms or legs, so how could he ever be baptized, being so completely disabled?
When they visited their new friend the next day, they were unprepared for the change in Atiati. He was bright and clean-shaven; even his bedding had been changed. “Today,” he said, “I begin to live again, because yesterday my prayers were answered and you [came] to me. … I have waited for more than twenty years for someone to come and tell me that they have the true gospel of Christ.”
For several weeks the two missionaries taught this sincere, intelligent man the principles of the gospel, and he received a strong witness of the truth and the need for baptism. He asked them to fast with him so that he would have the strength to go down into the water and be baptized. The nearest baptismal font was eight miles away. So they carried him to their car, drove him to the chapel, and set him on a bench. Their district leader opened the service by bearing a strong testimony about the sacred ordinance of baptism. Then Elder Peters and his companion picked up Atiati and carried him to the font. As they did so, Atiati said, “Please, put me down.” They hesitated, and he said again, “Put me down.”
As they stood in some confusion, Atiati smiled and exclaimed: “This is the most important event in my life. I know without a doubt in my mind that this is the only way to eternal salvation. I will not be carried to my salvation!” So they lowered Atiati to the ground. After a huge effort, he managed to pull himself up. The man who had lain 20 years without moving was now standing. Slowly, one shaky step at a time, Atiati went down the steps and into the water, where the astonished missionary took him by the hand and baptized him. He then asked to be carried from the font to the chapel, where he was confirmed a member of the Church.
Atiati continued to progress so that he gained the ability to walk only by a cane. He told Elder Peters that he knew that he would be able to walk on the morning of his baptism. He said, “Since faith can move a stubborn mountain, I had no doubt in my mind that it would mend these limbs of mine.” I believe we can say that Atiati was truly born again!

“I’ve swum twenty laps already, and I just can’t go another one.” Susan shouted to her swimming coach, who was standing near the edge of the pool.
“Yes, you can!” Coach Andersen encouraged confidently. “You’re good for at least four more laps.”
Susan looked up at the tall thin man and wondered why he expected so much of her.
“Four more!” the coach shouted. “And watch that kick. Your rhythm is off.”
Susan pushed off from the bank feeling discouraged and wanting to cry. Carefully she cupped her hands and pulled at the water.
“One, two, three, four, five, six,” she counted over and over to herself as she kicked and then rhythmically fit her windmill-like arms into the pattern. Slowly but smoothly she glided over the water. Her arms and legs ached and her lungs gasped for air as her head turned in and out of the water.
Susan touched the edge and then sprung backward and began the backstroke. Once more she glided gracefully over the water.
As she neared the edge, she wished she could stop, but even in the water she could hear Coach Andersen’s voice calling from the deck, “Two more laps. You’re looking good, but don’t get lazy with those arms. Pull, pull!”
Susan turned on her stomach again and did one more lap freestyle and then tried another lap on her back. Her muscles were so tired she wondered how she could make it.
“The last lap! This is the last lap!” she kept telling herself as she moved through the water. She felt a smile cross her lips as she finished.
“That was pretty good,” Coach Andersen said without smiling. “We’ll have a short workout tomorrow, and then you’ll be ready for the swimming meet on Saturday. Remember what you can eat and what you can’t, and get to bed early tonight and tomorrow night.”
Slowly Susan crawled out of the pool. For a while she sat on the edge dangling her feet in the water and breathing fast to catch her breath.
Is all this worth it? she wondered. Or am I going to all this trouble and work for nothing?
Then she looked down at the pool and her thoughts changed. “This time I’m going to win!” she whispered. “Every time I practice and every time I lose, I learn something. I can’t give up now. I’m going to win!”
She grabbed her towel and sweatshirt and went in the dressing room to change her clothes.
Within fifteen minutes she was on the bus going home. By now her tired muscles were beginning to feel better.
At the first stop a girl about her age got on the bus. Susan watched as the girl walked down the aisle and then stopped next to her seat.
“Hi,” the girl said. “May I sit here?”
“Sure,” Susan replied.
“My name is Rachel Ann Moyle,” the girl said as she sat down.
“I’m Susan Thomas,” Susan replied.
“I’m going to visit my grandmother,” Rachel Ann said. Then she opened a small sack and pulled out two chocolate bars. “Would you like some candy?” she asked.
Susan looked longingly at the candy. She loved chocolate, but the coach’s rules kept ringing in her ears, “Don’t eat empty calories. Eat high protein foods.”
She looked once more at the candy bar and her mouth began to water. “I’d better not,” Susan finally said reluctantly, “but thanks anyway.”
“Come on,” Rachel Ann urged. “I’ll feel silly eating if you don’t.”
Susan looked once more at the candy. Then she remembered her tired muscles and all the work she had done so she could win.
“No, thank you,” she said very firmly. “I really wouldn’t care for any. But you go ahead. I don’t mind.”
During the next two days Susan’s thoughts alternated between discouragement and excitement. But as she climbed onto the starting block Saturday afternoon, she felt only a determination to win.
The starter’s voice called out, “Judges ready?”
Eight hands at the ends of the pool signaled readiness, and the voice instructed, “Swimmers, take your mark.”
Susan stepped up and curled her toes around the edge of the starting block.
“Get set,” the starter shouted.
Susan poised herself to make the starting dive.
Bang! The gun rang out and the eight swimmers flew off the blocks.
One girl led the way, with Susan a little behind her and a girl in the next lane just a little farther back.
Susan pulled and kicked down the first lap. As she made the turn, the girl in the next lane caught up with her so Susan let go with all her strength. Halfway down the lap she started gaining on the leader. The two girls swam neck and neck.
When Susan could tell she was starting to fall behind, she pushed herself even more. She felt as if she would burst, but the extra push was just enough. She finished two-tenths of a second before the other girl!
Coach Andersen ran over to help Susan out of the pool. His face was one big smile.
“Congratulations!” he said. “I knew you had what it takes.”
Susan gasped for breath. Her muscles ached, but she had never felt so good.
“Thanks, coach,” she whispered between breaths. “I owe it all to you.”
“No, you don’t,” he said. “You’re the only one who can win. I’ve helped a little, but you’re the swimmer!”
While Susan was getting dressed, she thought about what Coach Andersen had said. Lots of people are willing to help me, but it’s up to me to help myself too, she decided with a smile.

Last year I reported to my doctor in Baltimore, Maryland. We had a full surgery scheduled for my right hip, which would mean a body cast for several months, perhaps even endangering my ability to attend my senior year of high school. We’d known about this for a year, since the last checkup when he made it known that my right hip was in bad shape.
When my dad and I got in the examination room, my doctor placed the X rays to the light. After looking at them, examining me, and looking back at the X rays again, he announced, rather astonished, that there seemed to be nothing wrong at all with my hip. He could see no reason to perform the extensive surgery he had planned. He said that, except for some work that needed to be done on my feet, I was in fantastic health and would need no more surgeries.
That was some kind of news to someone who had already had eight major surgeries and a handful of minor ones.
It is more than important to note that many prayers had been offered by our family and others prior to my examination, and I had many dear friends praying and fasting.
Sure enough, my hip was healed. I know that only Heavenly Father could have done what I witnessed. As a result of the many times I have had to face the reality of surgery and the consequent recovery, I have learned to pray—fervently and with real intent, exactly as Heavenly Father wishes for it to be.

Hi! My name is Juan Bautista, and I’m from Argentina. I shine my light by sharing the gospel.
My best friend Facundo and I have known each other since we were five. We both love football! I invited him to a lot of Church activities.
Once when Facundo was having dinner with us, he asked, “Why does your family always pray?” I said it’s because Heavenly Father blesses us, and this is how we thank Him. He was amazed!
Facundo came to a family home evening when my brother Benjamin was getting ready for baptism. Facundo felt the Spirit, and he asked if he could get baptized too! My father talked to Facundo’s parents about it.
The missionaries taught Facundo’s family. Then Facundo and his sister Augustine both got baptized!
Facundo asked my mom if he would ever know as much as I do about God. She smiled and said that if he studies his scriptures and prays, he could learn even more!

This story took place in the USA.
Mary twirled and admired her white dress in the mirror. It was the same dress her mom wore at her baptism. Great-Grandma Marluce had fixed it to fit Mary. Now Mary could wear it at her own baptism!
“You are beautiful!” Mom took Mary’s hand and spun her around again.
Mary giggled. “Can I keep it on all day?”
“Let’s save it to wear for your baptism so it stays nice and clean, OK?” Mom said.
“OK.” Mary would be baptized when she turned eight, and she had been preparing for a while now. She had been going to Primary, reading scriptures, and even going to her friends’ baptisms. But her birthday still seemed so far away!
Mary cuddled up with Mom on the sofa. “Mommy, how old were you when you were baptized?”
“I was 16.”
“Wow! Why did you wait so long?”
Mom wrapped Mary in a tight hug. “Because I didn’t know about Jesus Christ’s restored Church until then. But I started going to Church activities with some friends. And the more I learned, the more I wanted to be baptized!”
“Why?” Mary asked.
“Because I wanted to have a forever family.” Mom pointed at the picture of the temple hanging above them. “I learned that someday I could be sealed to my family in a temple forever. Having a forever family was my dream. And baptism was the first step! Now my dream is coming true.”
Mary smiled. “You have Dad, Mallory, and baby Maeva! And me too, of course.”
“Yes, of course. And Grandma Angela.”
“Did Grandma get baptized with you?”
“She waited a few years. But whenever we traveled near temples, we liked to stop and look at them.”
Mary thought about Mom and Grandma looking at temples together. “And what about Dad? How old was he when he got baptized?”
“He was 11.”
“And he lived in Brazil then?”
“That’s right,” said Mom. “There are people all over the world learning about Jesus and baptism. Lots of them are pioneers.”
“Pioneers?”
“A pioneer is someone who is the first to do something,” Mom explained.
Mary thought about that. “Like how you were the first person in your family to get baptized?”
Mom nodded and smiled.
Just then, Dad walked into the room and squished onto the sofa.
“Dad, were you a pioneer for your family?”
“Sort of. After I was baptized, I found out Grandma Rosimere was already a member of our church! But she hadn’t gone in years.”
“Really? What happened?”
“I started going to church. Then my brothers started going, then Grandma Rosimere too. Even Great-Grandma Marluce joined!”
Mary imagined Dad going to church by himself, then bringing more of his family with him.
“Wow,” Mary said. “I like hearing your stories. They make me even more excited to be baptized.”
“Thanks for asking us all these questions, Mary,” Dad said. “Now can we ask you one?”
Mary nodded. What would they ask?
“Why do you want to be baptized?”
Mary thought about what she learned from the scriptures and how she felt at church. “Because I want to follow Jesus and be with my family forever.”
Mom and Dad both smiled, and Mary tackled her parents in a hug. “I can hardly wait!”