Gospel Story Finder

Let me tell you a story that does not have such a great ending. When I was in high school, I became acquainted with a boy a year ahead of me in school. His brother and my brother were good friends and his brother was at our house all the time. I would see this person on occasion, maybe on the school bus which I rarely rode, or sometimes walking home from school. I was not always comfortable around him, although I never felt unsafe around him. It was easy to carry on a conversation with him because I was never worried about what he thought of me. You see, he was seen as being different, and he was constantly picked on wherever he went. I was not really aware of this when we talked, but always a little bit aware of it when other people were around.

One day, we were talking in the hallway at school and about three other guys came running through the hallway and they were calling him names. I remember being shocked, and not knowing what to do, I froze and I did not say anything. Even though I suspected that he was bullied, I had not really seen it first-hand. My friend looked at me, and although I don’t remember his exact words, he accused me of not standing up for him, and then walked off. I tried to apologize to him, but I already knew I had failed him. I didn’t know how to make amends because I couldn’t go back and undo that moment. At that time, I didn’t have the courage to stand up for him. The boys were a little scary to me. They were athletes and certainly more popular than I was, and I thought they might hurt or tease me, and I didn’t always have a lot of confidence in myself just like many other sixteen year olds. I was never mean to him myself, but what I thought was courageous then was just the fact that I spoke to him once in a while. I don’t know if he considered me a friend then or not, but he certainly didn’t ever seem to have any other friends while I knew him.

Looking back now, I realize that I was just popular enough, and at that age, even pretty enough that if I had spoken up, I could have shamed those guys into changing their behavior, at least at that moment. It was also very possible they would have bullied me as well, but for my friend it could have been a lifeline to know someone would stand up for him. I realized from this experience that this probably happened to him all the time.

Now it doesn’t help to dwell on a story like this unless we learn from it. I learned a lot from it; it’s hard to realize I can’t go back and change what happened, but I can change the way I act in the future. The attribute that I needed than and didn’t have enough of, was courage.

Courage to stand up for someone else. Courage to do the right thing. Courage to face up to someone even when we are afraid.

Many years ago 11-year-old Cori sat in front of the television listening to general conference. When she was younger, she drew pictures, but today she was listening closely for the things the prophet wanted her to do. President Ezra Taft Benson (1899–1994) asked everyone to read the scriptures, go to the temple, spend more time with their families on Sunday, and have family home evening. Cori knew that if she followed the prophet, she could help make her family stronger. Today Cori knows that following the prophet’s counsel increased her family’s love for one another and for Jesus Christ.

In 1989, Yuri and Liudmila Terebenin of St. Petersburg (then called Leningrad) and their daughter, Anna, were visiting friends in Budapest, Hungary. A Latter-day Saint friend invited them to church, where they felt the Spirit and decided to meet with the missionaries. They were eventually baptized. Though initially the only members of the Church in St. Petersburg, the Terebenins were not left alone for long. Members of the Church from Finland were already sharing the gospel with Russians, including Anton Skripko, who became the first Russian baptized in Russia.

At the time, Russia was experiencing political change, and Americans living and working in Moscow began to reach out to their Russian friends and acquaintances. Dohn Thornton met Galina Goncharova in 1989, and religion became a topic of discussion between them. Brother Thornton later recalled, “As I gave [Galina] the Book of Mormon and Joseph Smith pamphlet, the most incredible thing happened. It was [as] if all the light in the room at that moment focused on the book. The Spirit came over us and [she] started to cry.”8 Galina told him that she felt the book was from God. She began attending church and was baptized in June 1990, becoming the first convert baptized in Moscow.

As Russians from St. Petersburg, Vyborg, Moscow, and other cities joined the Church, a new chapter opened in the history of the Church in Russia. On April 26, 1990, Elder Russell M. Nelson of the Quorum of the Twelve offered a prayer of rededication for Russia in St. Petersburg, reaffirming the dedication that Elder Lyman performed nearly a century earlier and asking the Lord to extend the blessings of the gospel to the people.

Also in the spring of 1990, Tamara Efimova of St. Petersburg brought the missionaries to her home after meeting them at a friend’s home. Her father, Vyacheslav Efimov, was skeptical at first that these young men could teach him anything new about God. However, he became impressed by their gospel message. He wrote: “[It] gave me the opportunity to receive answers to my own questions and, most important, to understand that God loves each of us—we are his children and he has given us a Savior, his Son Jesus Christ, and each of us will be resurrected.”9 In June, Vyacheslav, Galina (his wife), and Tamara were baptized. From 1995 to 1998, Brother Efimov served as Russia’s first native mission president.

As I wrote of my intense involvement in Church while I was in high school, I recalled that many of my friends had wanted to know what made my life different from theirs. Why did I spend so much time at church? Why did the Mormon kids have such close relationships? What was our 6:30 A.M. religion class about? I had told some friends about the gospel. One girl friend and her family were baptized a few weeks after I had timidly asked them, “What do you know about the Mormon church?” one night as we sat around their kitchen table after a trip with the school orchestra. Another friend gained a testimony of the Book of Mormon but did not have the faith at age 15 to be baptized. Other friends went to Young Women meetings and to Church dances with me. A young man I met at a high school journalism conference joined the Church after we corresponded philosophically for three years. I had not converted him, but I had introduced him to the truth, and he had recognized it.

After I graduated from high school, I was drafted by the Los Angeles Dodgers on June 5, 1993. I had already signed a letter of intent to play baseball for BYU, and my plan was to go to college in Provo. After I had gone through the long, difficult process and come to the conclusion that I was going to go on a mission, I told the [baseball] scouts of my plans. I was called stupid by some scouts. But I did have one scout—the one who drafted me for the Dodgers—who told me if I went on my mission it would only help me when I returned to come and play baseball again. He said that’s mainly the reason why I was drafted. He just thought a mission would help me.

Well, my mission has helped me in more ways than that scout will ever know. I’ve had days out here where I’ll think back to when I was pitching, and I’ve come to realize that in the mission field there are more important things than baseball. I don’t think I really realized that back home. My testimony has grown a lot. I’ve learned so much out here about what I believe and about why I was given talents. I can see now that I can play baseball to build the kingdom of our Heavenly Father if I use that talent correctly. Had I gone straight into baseball without going on a mission, I might have fallen into the selfish I’m-playing-baseball-for-me trap.

Learning those lessons has been one of the great things about my mission. That’s why I’m so happy I chose to serve a mission, because that summer after I graduated from high school I wasn’t sure what I would do. I had this tempting offer from the Dodgers, but I had also signed a letter of intent to BYU.

When I got to high school, I made the baseball team and was a starting pitcher my freshman year. So when I was drafted, I had to jump back a little and look at things. I had a big decision to make. Would I accept the Dodgers’ offer, or would I go to BYU? Would I go on a mission?

Having already made that decision when I was younger really helped me as far as deciding about my mission and baseball. Once the Dodgers started talking money with me, I started getting really serious. I realized these guys were going to give me a lot of money to play ball for them. I needed to make a commitment one way or the other. I spent a lot of time on my knees never really feeling anything. I think part of the reason for that was because I was looking for the answer I wanted. I wanted to play professional baseball. I wanted that really bad.

Finally, by the end of the summer, I decided to sit down and kick everything out of my mind. Not long after, I had the feeling I should go to BYU and continue my baseball career there. I also had a strong feeling that I was supposed to go on a mission.

Many a major league scout came up to me and said the basic line, “If you play baseball you’ll be able to influence so many people.” I wondered if maybe that was what I was supposed to do.

It was during this time that I realized I needed to serve a full-time mission, and what the scouts were suggesting wasn’t for me. Now, almost two years since I was set apart as a missionary, I have a few new things to think about. Since the Dodgers lost the right to sign me when I went on my mission, I was eligible to be drafted again last June. I didn’t think any team would take a chance on me while I was serving a mission, but the Chicago Cubs did draft me. My plan right now is to finish my mission this month, and then return home and see what the Cubs are offering me. I’ll just have to wait and see.

Looking back on what has happened to me has helped me realize that the “sacrifice” I made to come on a mission was really not a sacrifice at all. I wouldn’t trade my mission experiences, good or bad, for all the money in the world. The Lord has made it possible for me to experience a mission and still continue to play baseball once I return.

I have loved my mission. I love baseball, but I also have loved the time I’ve been serving the Lord.

I was born and raised in Salt Lake City, Utah, and was the oldest of my parents’ three children. My father was drafted into the military during World War II. As a six-year-old, I remember praying with my mother that the war would end and that Dad would come home. Because he had three children, he was one of the first to be discharged when the war was over. There were so many men being discharged at the same time that he couldn’t even get a telephone line to let us know that he was coming home. He just showed up at our door. I think that that was the first time I felt a real answer to prayer. I had complete confidence in the power of prayer from that point forward.

When I first met Bert Braack in the early 1930s he was nearing the end of his search. He had taken the Bible admonition, “Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you” (Matt. 7:7), as his personal invitation to prayer, and it had brought him a challenging answer.
Bert’s mother died when he was nine, and his father, an atheist who wanted no part of religion, ran preachers off with a gun. The large family of children received no religious and little moral training. Drinking, smoking, and swearing were a way of life with them.
Yet as Bert grew to maturity and left home to make his way in the world, he says there was a deep craving within him. He wanted desperately to know if there was a God. And if so, what was that God like?
He began attending different churches and reading the Bible. The words in Matthew prompted him to ask for himself, and so, like the youthful Joseph Smith, with an intense desire to know the truth, he offered his first prayer: “If you are there, God, let me know and I will do what you want me to do.” And as he knelt, he says, “A great peace engulfed me, my heart burned within me, and a joy such as I had never known flowed over me. I felt as if I were completely immersed in a great spiritual essence.”
For three days this feeling remained with him, and during all that time, he says, “I hardly felt my feet touch the ground. The pure love of God seemed to completely encompass me, and it was wonderful. During this time I loved everything. I had never cared much for children, but now a great love flowed out from me toward them. I had cursed the rain; now, drenched in it, I loved every minute of it. If this is a small taste of the love of God that fills the celestial kingdom, no wonder the lamb and the lion can lie down together and there is nothing to hurt or make afraid.”
After three days this great joy left him, and he felt he had lost the most precious thing in the world. In great agony of soul he prayed to God to restore it, but he was left on his own. Only now there was a great difference—he knew there was a God. He knew God was real, for he had felt his love and power. He knew God would answer sincere prayer, for his prayer had been answered.
Then came a time of soul-searching. He had made God a promise. He would keep it. He would do what God wanted him to do—if only he could find out what it was. Determined to put his life in harmony with the truth, he first felt God would want him to change his life, so he quit smoking and drinking and tried to overcome other faults.
Then, surely God would want him to learn the truth. He began to study the Bible. Later he read the Koran, works on Buddha, Confucius, and other religious philosophers. The religion shelves at the public library became his schoolroom. He could not rest until he gained knowledge of the truth.
“The local protestant minister was a sincere man who wanted to baptize me,” Bert recalls, “but I gave him a strange answer. I told him that it would do no good for him to baptize me because he didn’t have the authority. I don’t know why I felt this way, but I knew it was true.”
At this point Bert arranged to move to Raymond, Washington, where he remembered seeing many churches. There he began questioning the ministers. “What is God like? Describe him to me. If I met him walking down the street would he be a man? Is he six feet tall, or more?”
The answers were not satisfying. He was told he could not meet God, that God couldn’t walk, that he was not any size but was something that filled the universe.
One day he noticed a small tract at his sister’s home called Rays of Living Light. He read it excitedly and asked his sister where it came from. “If you had been out on the desert for days, dying of thirst, and someone gave you a drink of clear, cold water, you would feel as I did when I read that tract,” he says. “I knew it was the truth. It was as if I were dying of thirst for the truth, and now I had received a small cup of it. I wanted more.”
Bert’s sister told him that her doctor, who was something called a “branch president” in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, had given it to her. She thought they were called “Mormons,” too.
Soon Bert had some well-marked tracts, a Book of Mormon, and an invitation to attend church. It was at the doctor’s office I first met my husband, Bert Braack. I next saw him in church. He attended all the meetings. His searching questions kept the members busy studying for the answers.
At last he had found someone who could explain God to him. Joseph Smith’s description of God and Jesus rang true. He could understand a God with a real, tangible body—a God who could walk and talk, one he could meet face to face and who could love with the great love he had felt once before. After a long search, he knew he had found the church with authority to baptize him, and since his immersion one autumn day in the cold Willapa River, his testimony has never faltered.

President Monson has told of an experience he had as a young bishop. A prompting came to go to the hospital and visit a member of his ward who was not doing well. President Monson was in a priesthood leadership meeting and he decided to delay going to the hospital until the meeting was over - a little more convenient and he wouldn't have to leave in the middle of the meeting. When he arrived at the hospital room, he was asked: "Are you Bishop Monson?" He said, indeed he was Bishop Monson. The doctor told him: "Brother Brown was asking for you just before he died." I've heard President Monson tenderly recount that experience and say: "I decided then and there that was the last time I would delay acting on a prompting." Since then, he has taught it and he has lived it!

“On another occasion,” Jenny continues, “during the fitness award practice walks we had to carry a backpack, and I felt so weighed down that I nearly quit. Usually, before such a big trial, I ask Dad for a blessing. This time I realized I’d forgotten. I was just about to look for a phone to call Mum to come and get me when a line from my patriarchal blessing came into my head: ‘You can achieve anything you set your heart to do.’ And with help from my Heavenly Father, I did it.”

At one time, our ward needed a Gospel Doctrine teacher in Sunday School. As a bishopric we prayed and reviewed several names with the Sunday School president. But we didn’t feel a confirmation about what to do. Once again, Larry had an idea. “What about Ila Gibb?” Ila was in her 70s, but we all felt impressed that she would be a good teacher. The Sunday School president agreed.
Sister Gibb laughed when Larry and I extended the calling. “I’m old,” she said. “Just leave me on the shelf.”
When Larry replied, “Sister Gibb, how old … ,” I thought he was going to hold himself up as an example. But he didn’t. He said with kindness, “How old is the prophet?” At this time, President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) had just become the President of the Church at age 84.
“I see where you’re headed,” Ila replied. “I guess we’re never too old to serve.” And for the next three years, she served as a marvelous Gospel Doctrine teacher.

As the months passed and the difficulties increased, apparently he came to feel by the Spirit that he would not live to see the Nauvoo Temple finished. In anticipation of that, he made several important decisions.
On May 4, 1842, he called to his side nine of the most faithful of his brethren—Hyrum Smith, Brigham Young, Heber C. Kimball, Willard Richards, Newell K. Whitney, and others—and later their wives came with them.
“If it should be the will of God that I might live,” he had said. Now, he continued and said in effect, “It is not the will of the Lord that I should live, and I must give you, here in this upper room, all those glorious plans and principles whereby men are entitled to the fulness of the priesthood.” He proceeded in an improvised and makeshift way to do so.
How did Joseph Smith know all these ordinances, and how were they transmitted to us today? The promise is recorded in section 124 of the Doctrine and Covenants, given in 1841, that the Lord would reveal to Joseph “all things pertaining to this house, and the priesthood thereof, and the place whereon it shall be built.” We have a further glimpse in the occasion already referred to—May 4, 1842—when a few faithful men received their endowments. We have from Brigham Young this testimony, that after they had received these glorious blessings the Prophet said: “Brother Brigham, this is not arranged right. But we have done the best we could under the circumstances in which we are placed, and I wish you to take this matter in hand and organize and systematize all these ceremonies.” Then, Brigham Young later said, “I did so. And each time I got something more [meaning that each time he worked on systematizing he had not only his memory and the records kept by Wilford Woodruff and others but also the light of revelation], so that when we went through the temple at Nauvoo [and without Joseph] I understood and knew how to place them there. We had our ceremonies pretty correct.”

At work on 30 December 1999, I was thinking about the members of the Jardim Paineiras Ward, where I serve as elders quorum president. I wondered how I could help the brethren in my quorum grow in the kingdom of the Lord. Then the idea flowed into my mind to ask the brethren to feed the Lord’s sheep.
On 31 December 1999, I found at my door the January 2000 issue of the Liahona (Portuguese). One of the first talks in this general conference issue was “Feed My Sheep” by Elder Ben B. Banks of the Presidency of the Seventy. I immediately realized how blessed we are to have the Holy Ghost to guide us. I was able to read parts of the talk to the brethren in elders quorum meeting. I asked them to read it carefully at home and to think about this subject. I am very grateful for the blessings I receive when I seek the help of the Lord.
Fernando J. Calderari,Jardim Paineiras Ward, Juiz de Fora Brazil Stake

The San Diego Temple
In August, 1977 shortly after being called as a Regional Representative of the Twelve, I recorded the following experience in my journal:

"while driving on Interstate 15 into downtown San Diego, I passed La Jolla Village Drive, and looked to the east at a beautiful vacant parcel of ground, and had the impression that a temple should be located there. It was a profound thought that I could not shake off. I reasoned to myself that a temple in San Diego was none of my business - my regional representative assignment covered the Anaheim and Palm Springs Regions, not San Diego. Still, the thought persisted, and on August 6, 1997 I sent a letter to Elder Royden G. Derrick suggesting the Church might want to consider purchasing a site in San Diego as a future temple site. I included information on the site on I-15."

That led to a meeting in Salt Lake City with The First Presidency in President Kimball's office. Some weeks later I was asked to begin a search for a future temple site in San Diego.

Of course the first property considered was the one I had first seen driving down the freeway, but it was not for sale. In the 5 years that followed many sites were looked at. None seemed to be the right location.

In September 1983 President and Sister Hinckley flew to San Diego to look at potential temple sites and to speak to 14,000 Seminary and Institute students in the Long Beach Convention Center. My wife and I picked them up at the airport and drove by several possible temple sites, including the one first seen from the freeway.

During the April 1984 General Conference of the Church five new temples were announced, including one in San Diego, and still we had not found a site.

Within a few months, however, a beautiful site was identified overlooking Mira Mar Naval Air Station in Tierra Santa with views to the Pacific Ocean and the Mexican Border on the south.

President Hinckley, accompanied by Bishop H. Burke Peterson of the Presiding Bishopric, flew to San Diego to see the Tierra Santa site. We drove onto the property and he liked it. Then he said, lets drive over to the other site by the freeway - the very first site considered and the one I had shown him nine months earlier, the one not for sale. As we stood on the land, with cars racing by on the freeway below he asked, "Which of the two sites we've seen today is the best for the temple?" All those present said the one we were standing on. President Hinckley then said, "I agree. Don, please proceed with the purchase of this land."

It seemed an impossible assignment one that I had tried to do several times in the past. But on the following Monday I made a call and miraculously, within a few days, the property became available. Within days we had a purchase contract to buy the property. It seemed a miracle that only a Prophet of God could accomplish.

In retrospect I realized that my feelings in 1978 while driving to work were, in fact, a prompting from the Lord and His way of setting in motion the process for purchasing a temple site He had chosen long before.

At the time of the cholera epidemic, Thomas Barnardo was training at the London Hospital to become a medical missionary to China. He was also a good Christian and, after a busy day at the hospital, he would spend his evenings telling people in the streets of East London about the teachings of Jesus.
One evening he came across an old tumbledown donkey shed. With the help of a few friends he patched it up and opened it as a “ragged school” (the name given to schools for poor children in those days) and taught an ever-increasing number of East End children there every evening. Besides hearing lessons, the children had a place where they could be warm and sheltered for a few hours.
One night, after lessons were over and Dr. Barnardo was turning out the gas jets, he noticed that a boy called Jim remained behind. Jim pleaded to be allowed to stay as he had no home, no parents, and nowhere to go. The previous night he had slept in a hay cart. This shocked Dr. Barnardo. He knew there must be many other children in London who were homeless and hungry.
Dr. Barnardo took Jim back to his own lodgings, gave him a good meal, and then asked him if he knew of other children in the East End who also needed shelter.
Jim offered to show Dr. Barnardo lots of “lays” where boys and girls who had no homes were sleeping. Late that night the boy led Thomas down dark alleyways and into all sorts of unpleasant corners where children in tattered rags were sleeping, often with no cover over them.
A few days later Dr. Barnardo spoke at a meeting and told those who attended about the shameful condition of children in the city’s slum areas—children for whom no one cared.
The newspapers reported Dr. Barnardo’s words and many wealthy and important people accused him of making statements that were either untrue or greatly exaggerated. No one seemed interested in helping to change this sad situation. At a time when the doctor was most discouraged, the Earl of Shaftesbury, who was a great lover of children, came to his aid. Someone finally believed Dr. Barnardo!
The Earl organized a private dinner party and invited many of the people who had disputed Dr. Barnardo’s words. At the end of the meal the Earl arranged it so that Dr. Barnardo could take his critics by lantern light on a night tour of the lays and prove his claims.
At the very first lay visited, in Billingsgate Fish Market, were seventy-three homeless, hungry, and uncared-for boys huddled together under tarpaulins stretched over piles of fish boxes. Many more were sleeping in empty barrels. Long before the tour was over Dr. Barnardo had convinced the doubters.
Shortly after this experience, the Earl of Shaftesbury suggested that Dr. Barnardo give up the idea of becoming a medical missionary in China and help the slum children instead. It was a difficult decision for the doctor to make and he prayed for guidance.
Shortly afterward he received a letter from a wealthy Member of Parliament offering to provide £ 1,000 (about $2,000) toward a home for destitute children if, instead of going to China, Dr. Barnardo would remain in London to run it.
He believed this to be an answer to prayer, and opened his first home for boys in Stepney Causeway. Three years later he married and used a wedding gift of a large house to set up a home for girls. His work was blessed and other homes followed.
Today the Barnardo homes house the largest family in the world. At least 8,000 children are being cared for in 100 homes. During the past 100 years, more than 200,000 children have been given a temporary home.
One day, shortly after the first Barnardo Home was opened, a pale and ragged boy asked Dr. Barnardo to take him in. Regretfully, Barnardo had to refuse, for the house was already full. He gave the lad, known as Carrots, some money and asked him to come back later. Carrots never returned, for during that week he died from cold and hunger.
Barnardo vowed that he would never let such a thing happen again. Without delay he had erected over the door of the home a signboard that read, “No Destitute Child Ever Refused Admission.” From that day to this, no matter what the hour of day or night, that pledge has been honored.
Barnardo’s doors are always open and no deserving child is ever turned away.
“Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not …” (Luke 18:16.)

“I don’t want to take piano lessons anymore,” I told my mother. I had been taking lessons for several years and was tired of all the practicing. I was ready to quit. I wasn’t very good anyway. Because I suffer from moderate hearing loss and wear hearing aids, I have never considered myself a person with musical talent. It always took a lot of practice to learn the tune of a song.
My mother didn’t say much but simply told me that I should keep taking lessons until I could play the hymns. After much complaining on my part and much encouragement from my parents, I decided not to quit.
Fast forward several years and thousands of miles to a chapel in the mountains of central Guatemala. As a missionary, I was attending a district conference. I had arrived early and found a piano there, so I sat down and started playing hymns. Most of the wards and branches had small electric keyboards that were hard to play, so I was very excited to play a real piano. I ended up being asked to accompany the congregation for the conference.
What changed my attitude between my younger years and my time as a missionary? I felt the power of the Spirit through music.
While serving a mission, I had many opportunities to use the musical skills that I had learned. I relished the many opportunities to sing and play the piano and played nearly every week in sacrament meeting. I will always remember listening to those faithful Guatemalan members singing the hymns. I taught members new hymns that they weren’t familiar with. I taught some basic piano lessons. My companions and I would sing to the people we were teaching. Even if we sang off-key, the Spirit was always there to touch the hearts of the people.
I’ve learned that it doesn’t matter what your talents are; you can still learn to develop musical abilities. I’ll never be a world-class pianist, and many of the members in Guatemala will never be in the Tabernacle Choir. But it didn’t matter. We could still enjoy feeling the Spirit through music. I’m so grateful that my parents encouraged me to keep taking piano lessons, and I’m grateful that I kept practicing.

“My grandfather on my father’s side is Melvin J. Ballard. He died when I was ten, so I didn’t really appreciate what it meant for him to be an apostle. However, I do remember that he was very interested in me. On my eighth birthday he picked me up at my home and took me to see a movie. As I recall, he slept through most of it, but it was evident that he cared enough about me to spend some time with me. I am grateful that I have such special memories of Grandfather, and I would encourage children to take advantage of any experience with their grandfathers or grandmothers that can become a happy memory for them.”

The last thing my mom asked me before I left for St. George, Utah, was, “Do you have your shoes?”
As facetiously as she had asked the question, I answered, “Yes.” Who would forget to take running shoes to a race?
Now it was 5:00 A.M., just before the start of the St. George Marathon, and I realized I hadn’t told my mom the truth.
Humility came quickly. I found myself begging. As the other runners were loading on the buses that would take them to the starting line of the 26-mile race, I was approaching strangers.
“Do you have any extra shoes?”
I got a few laughs, some sympathy, no shoes.
I started to feel nervous. I had trained for months and didn’t want to lose the opportunity to race just because I had forgotten my running shoes. But it didn’t take long to see that my chances of finding shoes were slim.
Anywhere around size nine and a half to eleven and a half, I thought, knowing I couldn’t be too picky.
One man heard my plea just as he was boarding the bus. He stepped out of line, walked several blocks to his parked car, and retrieved an extra pair of shoes.
“They’re good shoes, but I don’t use them anymore,” he said as he handed them to me. “You can keep them.”
My gratitude for this man didn’t take the pain out of my feet, protected during the race by shoes that were a half size too small. And, even though I don’t remember his name or where he was from, I will always remember the gift of his extra shoes that stretched my understanding of what service can be. He taught me that service isn’t always something we organize as an activity. Service is helping people who need assistance, whether it’s planned or not.
Although I didn’t have use for them after the race, it was years before I finally got rid of the snug-fitting shoes. To me they stood as a monument to a random act of service. The man didn’t have to give me his shoes. He could have boarded the bus to the starting line and never thought about me again. But he took the time to walk to his car and bring me his extra shoes. It was as though he had made the decision years ago to take advantage of every opportunity to serve.
I’ve been told not to judge a man until I’ve walked a mile in his shoes. After 26 miles of running that Saturday morning, I suppose I can judge the size 10 man who gave me his extra pair. He was willing to go out of his way to help me, without expecting anything in return. He didn’t want money. He didn’t even want his shoes back. He just didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to serve.

Blake McKeown, popularly known as the “rookie,” publicly left his post on Bondi Beach last May as a lifeguard in the Australian reality television show Bondi Rescue to perform another kind of rescue. He accepted a call to serve in the Philippines Baguio Mission. He shared this news and his feelings with colleagues and audiences on the show.
“When I found out I’d be going to the Philippines I was stoked to be going somewhere overseas and different,” he said. “It’s a big step. I will miss the beach for sure, but going on a mission is important to me. It is something I have been working toward all my life.”
On being a lifeguard Elder McKeown says, “There’s nothing I’d rather have done for the past two years than work on the beach—it’s the best job in the world—but for the next two years there’s nothing better I want to do than serve a mission. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is not a religion you can just say you’re part of; it’s a religion you have to live. It’s my life. I would be a very, very different person if it wasn’t for the Church.”

Grandmother was visiting us, and we were just ready to go out on a fun family outing when a minor disaster struck—we couldn’t find the keys to the car. Children, parents, and Grandmother searched everywhere, but the keys were not to be found, and we thought in dismay that we would probably have to stay home. Then Grandmother excused herself and went into her bedroom. In just a few minutes one of the children suddenly found the keys just barely hidden under a corner of a rug.
As we drove happily to our outing, someone asked Grandmother, “Why did you go into your bedroom instead of looking for the keys?” Grandmother’s answer was absorbed carefully by five young children: “I knew how disappointed everyone would be if we didn’t go on the outing so I went in and prayed that we could find the keys. I knew we would find them after that.”

Oftentimes we are like the young merchant from Boston, who in 1849, as the story goes, was caught up in the fervor of the California gold rush. He sold all of his possessions to seek his fortune in the California rivers, which he was told were filled with gold nuggets so big that one could hardly carry them.
Day after endless day, the young man dipped his pan into the river and came up empty. His only reward was a growing pile of rocks. Discouraged and broke, he was ready to quit until one day an old, experienced prospector said to him, “That’s quite a pile of rocks you are getting there, my boy.”
The young man replied, “There’s no gold here. I’m going back home.”
Walking over to the pile of rocks, the old prospector said, “Oh, there is gold all right. You just have to know where to find it.” He picked two rocks up in his hands and crashed them together. One of the rocks split open, revealing several flecks of gold sparkling in the sunlight.
Noticing a bulging leather pouch fastened to the prospector’s waist, the young man said, “I’m looking for nuggets like the ones in your pouch, not just tiny flecks.”
The old prospector extended his pouch toward the young man, who looked inside, expecting to see several large nuggets. He was stunned to see that the pouch was filled with thousands of flecks of gold.
The old prospector said, “Son, it seems to me you are so busy looking for large nuggets that you’re missing filling your pouch with these precious flecks of gold. The patient accumulation of these little flecks has brought me great wealth.”