Gospel Story Finder

I joined the Church in May 2009. Since then I have quickly come to value the blessings that come from consistently attending family home evening. One memorable experience occurred when our young single adult ward played “chair soccer,” a variation of indoor soccer, in the cultural hall of a local meetinghouse. The point was to defend your chair while attacking other people’s with a rubber ball. I formed an alliance with two other players; by the end we were the only three still in the game, and we promptly turned on each other. Instead of getting upset about it, we couldn’t stop laughing! It was the most fun I have had in ages, and I know that I would be hard pressed to find an experience like that anywhere outside of the Church. Everyone was having a great time, even if he or she didn’t win, but that’s not what made the experience special to me. What really made it memorable was the spirit of friendship I felt at the activity.
Moments like this help me lighten the overwhelming stress of graduate school. No matter how the week has gone, I know that I will always feel better if I go to family home evening. I may not always be thrilled about the activity and I may not always want to take the time, but I never regret going.
Matt Adams, Nebraska, USA

Photograph by Cristy Powell
Before my mission, I moved out of my parents’ home and attended college for a few months. There, I experienced severe anxiety. I wanted to serve a mission but worried about my mental health challenges.
After working hard in therapy for several months, I was ready to serve and received my mission call. I was called to be a service missionary.
My father recalls: “He poured his heart into preparing for his mission. When his call finally came, it was even harder for us when we saw his disappointment in not getting called to the kind of mission he had hoped to serve.”
That is when I took this teaching from President Russell M. Nelson to heart: “Through a lifetime of service in this Church, I have learned that it really doesn’t matter where one serves. What the Lord cares about is how one serves.”
My mother said, “We had to trust that this call was directly from God and that he was needed as a service missionary.”
Looking back, I can truly say that I am happy with the progress I have made, the growth I have experienced, and the many lives I have touched, including members of my family, fellow missionaries, and those I have served.
As part of my service, I write for the Friend magazine, serve in the Mount Timpanogos Utah Temple, and help two teenage boys who have special needs. I have found so much joy helping others come unto Christ through my service.

Elsie and Edwin Dharmaraju joined the Church in Samoa and were called by President Spencer W. Kimball to return back to their home in Hyderabad as missionaries to their family. In 1978, 22 of Elsie and Edwin’s family members were baptized, and from this beginning the first stake in the country was organized in Hyderabad in 2012.6

They also listened to John Santosh Murala, then serving in the mission presidency, talk about how his aunt Elsie and uncle Edwin Dharmaraju came to Hyderabad to teach their family the gospel. John was the youngest of the 22 pioneer members to be baptized in 1978.

One day I visited a church three blocks from our house. When I rang the doorbell, the custodian answered. I told him I had two teenage sons who needed to belong to a youth group. “Do you have Boy Scouts?” I asked. He said yes.
Then I asked him if his church was based on the Bible. Again he said yes—it was based on the Bible and the Book of Mormon. He invited me to Church services the following Sunday. My 13-year-old son, Marcelo, was traveling with friends, so I invited my other son, Sergio, who was 15, to accompany me. He came, although reluctantly.
When we entered the chapel, several members greeted us in a friendly manner. An older man quickly introduced us to the missionaries, and they started teaching us the discussions that day. When Marcelo returned from his trip, he joined us in the discussions. The Spirit touched our hearts, and on 16 February 1980 my sons and I became members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My wife, Isabel, was baptized one month later.

The young people of a certain ward had worked to earn the large sum of money needed to go on an adventure trip. I had had some acquaintance with their bishop. He called and asked if I would help him get some news publicity so that these young people would be recognized for the fine things they were doing.
I said that I would not help him. He was surprised and asked why. I answered that although it was commendable that the young people had worked hard to earn this money, some things are interesting while other things are important, and that there might be a higher purpose for the funds they had obtained.
I explained that my ministry takes me into countries where the people are less privileged than where he lives. I explained that the amount of money these fine young people had earned would keep several missionaries from these areas in the field for their entire missions.
He said, “Are you asking me to have these young people donate their funds to the general missionary fund of the Church?”
I said, “No, I have not asked you to do that. I have just said that there are finer things to do.” I explained that I was not against the kind of project they were planning but that there must be a balance, and, by comparison, some things are interesting while other things are important.
Later the bishop said that he had talked to the young people and that they wanted to sacrifice their adventure trip and donate all the money to the general missionary fund. He asked if they could bring the check and have their picture taken with me as they made the donation and if they could have the picture and an article put into the news.
I said no. Then I said, “You might consider helping your young people learn a higher law of recognition. Let them feel the joy and gain the treasure in their heart and soul that come from silent, selfless service.”

For something like seven months, I fell away from activity in the Church.
But then I began to carefully read the Liahona (Spanish) and discovered the counsel of the Brethren to be both powerful and convincing.
Based on my own experience, I invite everyone who is not fully active in the Church to read and study the messages in the magazine and in the scriptures. If they do this with humble hearts, their testimonies will become so strong they will have the desire to return to the Church.
Cristino RodríguezIsla PatrullaUruguay

The first steps on the road to walking again actually took place in the water.
At 23 years old, Victor Penafiel watched others swim while he clung to a corner of the pool. His friend, Arturo Espinoza, saw his desire to swim and offered to teach him. But Victor had a great fear of water. Even before his accident, he didn’t know how to swim. Swimming wouldn’t be easy, especially with only one arm. After a year of struggling with Victor’s fear, Arturo guided Victor into the middle of the pool and removed the life vest he wore during lessons.
“Let’s see how you get out of this,” Arturo said, leaving him there.
Victor got out of it, and the challenge helped him see he could swim. After that, Victor never used a life vest. Now he loves swimming, he said, because when he is in the water, he feels free.

Young Joan of Arc, one of the greatest heroines in history, became the unlikely standard-bearer for the French army in the Dark Ages, long before the gospel was restored. Joan had the Light of Christ and also the courage to follow its promptings and make a difference. Joan was a peasant girl who could neither read nor write. Long years of war had impoverished and divided her country. At 17, sensing her life had a purpose, she left home, determined to help liberate her oppressed country. People scoffed at her ideas and thought she was a little crazy, but in the end she persuaded them to let her have a horse and an escort to go and see the king.
Young King Charles VII had heard about Joan and decided to test her. He slipped into the ranks of the army and let one of his trusted associates occupy the throne. When Joan came into the room, she barely acknowledged the man on the throne, but promptly walked up to Charles and curtsied to him. This so impressed the king that he gave her command over his 12,000 troops. At first the French soldiers did not want to obey her, but when they saw that all who followed her succeeded and all who disregarded her failed, they came to look upon her as their leader.
Clad in a suit of white armor and flying her own standard, Joan of Arc liberated the besieged city of Orleans in 1429 and defeated the English in four other battles. Twice she was wounded, but each time she recovered and went on fighting. Her orders seemed to be those of a military genius.
She was captured by English allies and burned at the stake in 1431. Although this is a sad ending, it does not take away from Joan’s greatness. She was courageous enough to follow the personal inspiration to which all of us are entitled.

After Paulo came up out of the baptismal font, he and Dad got dressed in dry clothes. Then Dad and Grandpa and the bishop laid their hands on his head and confirmed him. Now he was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
“I feel so great,” Paulo said. He touched his heart. “In here.”
Mom hugged him tight. “That’s because you received the gift of the Holy Ghost when you were confirmed.”
Paulo nodded. He didn’t want to do anything to make that great feeling go away. He wanted to always follow Jesus.
But the very next day, his little brother Carlo broke Paulo’s toy plane. Paulo had saved up for months to buy it!
“Look what you did!” Paulo yelled. “Why can’t you leave my stuff alone?”
“I’m sorry,” Carlo said. Tears rolled down his cheeks. “Maybe we can fix it.”
“It won’t be the same!”
Carlo ran out of the room crying.
Paulo sighed. He wished he hadn’t gotten so mad. Hadn’t he promised when he was baptized that he would always follow Jesus? He knew Jesus would have been kind.
“I promised I would try to be like Jesus,” he told Mom, his voice shaking. “But I’ve already messed up! How do I get back that good feeling from my baptism?”
Mom hugged him tight. “We all mess up. But Jesus gave us a way to have the Holy Ghost with us again after we do something wrong.”
Paulo could guess what she was going to say. “You mean repentance, right? I have to ask for forgiveness.”
Mom nodded. “And when you take the sacrament, you’ll renew the promise you made to follow Jesus. Then you’ll be just as clean as you were right after you were baptized and confirmed.”
Paulo went to find Carlo. “I’m sorry I yelled at you,” he said. “Let’s fix the plane together.”
Carlo smiled, and Paulo felt like he had done what Jesus would do. When he said his prayer that night, he asked Heavenly Father to forgive him and to help him be nicer to Carlo. A warm feeling filled his heart.
That Sunday at church, Paulo paid extra attention to the sacrament prayers. He listened carefully to the words and remembered how he’d repented that week. As he took the bread and water, he felt Heavenly Father’s love for him. And it was such a great feeling!

When the McCanns first saw it set amongst acres of pine trees on idyllic Kangaroo Island, they knew they had to secure the holiday home. Evonne and David Sandelin McCann envisioned retreats here with their five children and youth camps for their stake in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
In the years since, all their dreams became reality. The McCanns generously opened their home to friends and the Church’s youth groups, who have wonderful memories of staying there—experiencing dusk surrounded by kangaroos, wallabies, possums, and spotting koalas snuggled in the boughs of the eucalyptus trees.

Cindy walked along six blocks of palm-tree-lined streets to get to Madison Elementary School. There were lots of good things about being in the fourth grade, she thought as she walked. The upper-grade classrooms were all on the second floor of the white stucco building, which meant she would get to walk up the stairs with the older students. Fourth-graders also got to start taking music lessons, and Cindy had already signed up to play the violin.
As Cindy slipped into her desk, she thought about another new adventure—this was the year students could participate in a special religion class. Every Wednesday, those who had parent permission slips would get to leave their regular classroom and learn about different religious beliefs.
“Attention, class! We’re going to divide for religion class now,” Mrs. Greene said. “If you are Catholic, go with Mrs. Leigh. If you are Protestant, please go with Mrs. Jossen. Otherwise, please stay here with me.”
Cindy tucked her blonde hair behind her ears and watched her classmates push back their chairs and gather their notebooks. One by one they walked out until just a few children were left in the classroom.
Mrs. Greene turned to the small remaining group and asked them to introduce themselves and talk about their religious beliefs. One of Cindy’s classmates was Jewish. Another was Buddhist. Then it was Cindy’s turn.
“I belong to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” Cindy said. She tried to make her voice sound brave, but she didn’t like talking in front of other people. Mrs. Greene scrunched her eyebrows together for a moment.
“Well, Cindy, then you should have gone with the Protestants,” she said.
Cindy’s heart began to beat fast as everyone in the room turned to look at her. She paused for a moment, thinking back to the lessons she had learned in Primary. As she remembered stories about Joseph Smith and the Restoration, she knew what she had to say.
“No, Mrs. Greene. Latter-day Saints aren’t Protestant. And we’re not Catholic either. We believe that the gospel has been restored to the earth by a prophet named Joseph Smith. It’s the same religion that was on the earth when Jesus was here with His disciples. We believe that the gospel is on the earth once again, Mrs. Greene.”
Mrs. Greene looked at Cindy skeptically before continuing on with the lesson.
“She doesn’t think I know what I’m talking about,” Cindy thought.
As Cindy walked home later that day, she thought about what had happened. She didn’t bother to stop at the candy store, and she didn’t pause to pick the flowers that she sometimes used for doll bouquets. She was too busy thinking about Joseph Smith and what she had learned in Primary.
“Joseph Smith received the priesthood and the scriptures and the keys that allowed him to establish the Church on the earth again,” Cindy thought. “That’s what the sixth article of faith talks about.”
When Cindy sat down in class the next day, she was a little nervous to see Mrs. Greene again. But to her surprise, Mrs. Greene had a big smile on her face.
“Cindy, I want you to know that I spoke to the history teacher about Mormonism,” Mrs. Greene said in front of the entire class. “And she told me that you were absolutely right, that your religion was restored. I am sorry I doubted you, Cindy. Thank you for speaking up. You really seem to know what your church stands for!”
The rest of the day seemed especially bright for Cindy. She smiled as she jumped rope. She smiled as she bounced a ball and picked up jacks.
“I can’t wait to tell Mom what I taught the teacher!” Cindy said to herself as she started to skip home.

In France, it isn’t unusual to see sleek sports cars whizzing around the streets. But it is unusual to see a large family van driving down the road—with a father, a mother, and seven children squeezed into it.
Many families in France have only one or two children. People are often surprised to learn that Michel and Pascale Küsseling have seven.
The Küsselings live in Gournay, a beautiful town of about 6,000 people on the outskirts of Paris. They are members of the Torcy Ward, Paris France East Stake. There’s a row of child-sized bicycles in their driveway. In the backyard are trees to climb and a slide to play on.
There are four boys and three girls in the family. Julien, age 14, is a teacher and likes to swim. Jérome, age 13, is a deacon and likes to swim and play the piano. Next come twin girls, age 10—Claire, who plays the flute and likes ballet, and Laurence, who also plays the flute but prefers swimming to dancing. Marie, a 9-year-old girl, is next; she likes to dance and play the piano. The youngest two are boys—Christophe, age 6, who is learning to swim, and Nicolas, age 4, who likes to play ball.
“I always wanted to have a large family, even before I was a member of the Church,” says Sister Küsseling. “I love children.”
“The most difficult time,” laughs Brother Küsseling, “was when Marie was born and the twins were only a year old. We suddenly had three girls nearly the same age. They became a little jealous of each other, because I had three girls to hold and only two knees to hold them on!”
Large families can have lots of challenges—but also lots of blessings. On the challenging side, sometimes the children need to have patience when Mom and Dad are busy with the others. And sometimes brothers and sisters tease one another.
On the positive side, there’s always somebody to play with—or to work alongside. “I’ve always had lots of brothers and sisters,” says Laurence. “For me, it seems normal. It’s nice to have older children and younger children in the family. That way, we all learn from each other and help each other.”
And there are plenty of family members to share assignments for family home evening. “We try to give each child a responsibility every Monday evening,” says Sister Küsseling. “Someone leads the music; somebody tries to find something for the lesson; somebody makes a treat for refreshments. They all try to participate.” Family home evening is also a time to share things the children have learned or made in Primary.
They love to go to Primary. “I learn about Jesus, about His life and what He did,” says Laurence. “And we learn about Joseph Smith. He translated the Book of Mormon and organized the Church when it was restored. I believe he was a prophet.”
The children enjoy reading stories from L’Étoile, the Church magazine in French. They also read the scriptures together and have family prayer. And they love to sing. Laurence’s favorite song is “Love One Another” (Hymns, number 308). Claire’s favorite is “Silent Night” (Hymns, number 204). “I love Christmas,” she says, “because we remember the birth of Jesus and can all be together. That’s important to me.”
Brother Küsseling has been a member of the Church all his life; as a young man he served a mission in New Caledonia, an island in the South Pacific. He currently serves as a counselor in the mission presidency in Paris. Sister Küsseling, a Primary teacher, was baptized 16 years ago and is the only member of the Church in her family. Brother and Sister Küsseling were married in the Swiss Temple. Claire says it’s a wonderful feeling to know that their family can be together forever.
Claire is also thankful for many other blessings that come with being a member of the Church. When she was three years old, she became extremely sick and began having seizures. “We were very frightened,” says Sister Küsseling. “Her dad gave her a blessing, and then we took her to the hospital. The next day, Claire was well. She hasn’t had any seizures since.”
Claire can’t remember that incident, but she knows she was healed through the power of the priesthood. She does remember another time when the priesthood was especially important in her life. She clearly recalls when her father baptized her. “It made me happier than before,” she says. “I knew Jesus would forgive all my sins.
“I have seen my father bless and baptize the children of our family. And when he was bishop, he also blessed other people in the ward who were sick or needed a blessing,” says Claire. “He gives us blessings when we start a new year at school. When he does, I know I will have a good year.”
Her twin sister, Laurence, says: “I believe Heavenly Father hears me when I pray. He has answered my prayers. When our father lost his job four months ago, we all prayed for him to get a new job. And he got a new job in two weeks!” Brother Küsseling now works as a financial adviser for a British company in Versailles.
Both Claire and Laurence like to study math, and both are good students. Although they are the only Latter-day Saints in their school, they have learned to choose friends with similar standards and values, and they have talked with some of them about the Church. “Since my parents and relatives are not members of the Church,” says Sister Küsseling, “the children often bear their testimonies to their uncles, aunts, cousins, and grandparents.”
And they try to show by their actions that they are followers of Jesus Christ. For example, they often help their neighbor, an 87-year-old man who lives alone. They help carry his groceries into his house because they are worried he might fall. And they help feed his dog. In return, he lets the children eat cherries off the branches of his tree that reach over the fence into the Küsselings’ backyard.
“I’ve learned in church to be more polite,” says Laurence. “The gospel teaches me to be kinder to people around me, including my family.”
Most of all, Claire and Laurence each want to be the kind of mother their own mother is. They are glad to be part of a family that people notice. Some may notice the Küsselings because of the size of their family or the size of their car. But more important, people notice them for their love for one another and for their efforts to live the gospel.

Sometime around my 17th birthday, I had achieved my full growth with the usual bulges and ripples in the right places. Dad and I were alone together on the farm since my older brothers were married or at college. One day we were stacking bales of alfalfa hay. I was placing them from the truck on a long conveyer that carried them to where Dad was placing them in the right position on the haystack. The sound of the small motor drowned out any possibility of talk, so, lost in my own thoughts, I worked rapidly to finish the job. I was startled when Dad yelled. I looked up to see that I was sending bales of hay up to him faster than he could place them. After waving for me to stop, he sat down to rest. Dad pulled out a red bandana handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. At that moment I realized I was no longer a small child following my father’s footsteps in the snow. My father was more tired than I was.
I had never before realized that this was natural since I was 17 and he was 55. I was instead a bit shocked by the recognition that he was no longer going to be the person I compared myself to in order to see if I was doing all right. Truthfully, I felt a bit anxious as if I were suddenly without a leader and were on my own. As I sat looking at him, a wave of emotion passed through me. I could not understand all of it, but I knew something significant was taking place. He suddenly looked a bit older to me and more tired than I had been willing to notice.
As we began to work again, and I more slowly, my father seemed a bit less than he used to be. I felt a little disappointed and even resentful. Some fate had robbed me of a security I had as a child, but I gained an understanding that has been a wonderful part of my life. I understood that more than an unattainable example of manhood, my father was just a man. He was a mortal like me, and what he did I could someday do too. Knowing this was far better than trying to be like someone and never succeeding. My father became to me a real person who had feelings and ideas, strengths and weaknesses, hopes and dreams.
My disappointment was brief, and I began to view him differently, even feeling protective of him. As the days followed, I became more responsible in doing my chores and tried in many ways to be more helpful to him. I began to tell him more things about myself, and we became closer. Though he was by nature a reserved and quiet man, we became more openly affectionate with each other. We are not equals. I am better in some areas because of an advanced education he gave me. He is wiser because of his experience.

Carlos rubbed his hand along his head, feeling his bare scalp. He sighed.
His hair had been falling out for a while now. It was a side effect of the cancer treatments he was having. Carlos had decided to shave the rest of it off because he didn’t like how patchy his hair looked. He used to have shiny dark hair. Now all he had was a shiny scalp.
“Carlos? Are you ready for church? It’s time to go,” Mom called.
“Coming,” Carlos called back. He straightened his favorite tie and grabbed his scriptures. Then he ran out to the car.
This would be his first Sunday passing the sacrament without any hair. He was going to be the only bald deacon. Was everyone going to stare at him?
Carlos didn’t say anything for the whole drive to church. He listened to his siblings and parents talk. His stomach was doing flips, and his hands were sweaty. The closer they got to church, the jumpier his stomach got.
The car pulled into the church parking lot. Everyone unbuckled their seatbelts. Everyone except Carlos. Part of him wanted to just sit in the car and never come out.
Mom noticed he wasn’t moving. “What’s wrong, Carlos?”
“I’m nervous about passing the sacrament. I don’t want everyone to stare at me,” Carlos said.
Mom turned around to look at Carlos. “Would you like to say a prayer before we go in?”
“Yeah,” Carlos said. Everyone folded their arms and closed their eyes while Carlos said a prayer. He thanked Heavenly Father that he was able to pass the sacrament. Then he asked for help to not worry about other people staring at him. When he opened his eyes, he felt peaceful and ready.
“That was a beautiful prayer. I know Heavenly Father will help you,” Mom said.
Carlos smiled. He remembered the end of the sacrament prayer, “that they may always have his Spirit to be with them” (Doctrine and Covenants 20:77). Helping others have the Holy Ghost with them was one of Carlos’s favorite parts of passing the sacrament. Now he felt warm and confident. He was ready.
Carlos walked into the chapel. He looked for his friends in the deacons quorum in the pews in front of the sacrament table. He couldn’t see them. Instead, he saw seven bald heads. Where were all of his friends from deacons quorum?
He walked up to the pews and realized that those seven bald heads belonged to his friends!
The deacons quorum president, Samuel, was smiling at Carlos. “We had the idea to shave our heads. We didn’t want you to feel alone.”
Carlos hardly knew what to say. He thanked his friends and prayed silently to Heavenly Father. He thanked Him for blessing him with such good friends.
Carlos stood tall as he passed the sacrament. He wasn’t alone at all! He had good friends, and he had the Holy Ghost with him.

Another couple recently served in a small village south of Santiago, Chile. They had no Spanish skills and were apprehensive about being in a different country so far from the comforts of home. But they plunged in with total dedication, loving and serving the people. Before long, the small branch grew from 12 to 75 members. When it came time for them to leave, the entire branch rented a bus so they could go to the airport, four hours away, and say good-bye to their special friends.

Lots of children dream of being movie stars. But Matthew Krok of Castlereagh, Australia, has already been one—a very successful one—for several years. In fact, Matthew may be one of the best known actors in all of Australia.
Although he’s only 11 years old, Matthew has already been in a number of commercials and a feature film, and for four years has had a supporting role in a television comedy called Hey, Dad. He’s the winner of two People’s Choice awards and has been interviewed in and appeared on the covers of numerous national magazines.
But the two things that truly seem to impress people when they get to know Matthew may surprise you. First, they’re impressed that he’s from a big family (five children) with strong values, something that’s all too rare in the acting industry. Second, they’re amazed at how humble he is, despite all the attention stardom can bring.
Maybe it’s because he understands that fame doesn’t last forever.
“We’re not really concerned about how long Matt’s success in acting continues,” explains Matt’s father, John. “If it continues, great. If not, he’s doing well in school, and he’ll go on to something else.”
“I only got into acting because we were trying to earn some spending money,” Matthew explains. “First we were gathering cans for recycling, but all that driving around ended up costing Mum a lot of money in petrol.”
So when his sister Lisa talked about a friend of hers who had done some TV work, “we thought we might have a go at that. We went to an agency. I auditioned and got a commercial. From then on, they kept asking me to do commercials. It was slow at first, and then it started getting faster and faster. Then there was a break, and that led me to doing the television series.”
Hey, Dad is the story of a widowed father who is struggling to be both mum and dad to his children. Matthew plays the part of a neighbor, the son of a single mother. There are lots of lessons learned, lots of discussions about family values.
“But the family on the show is a lot different from our family, because their lives are so disjointed,” Matthew’s father says. “I think that sometimes Matt finds it hard to relate to the situation.”
Maybe that’s because Matt knows families can be—and should be—forever. He talks reverently about receiving a priesthood blessing from his father. He’s excited that he’ll soon turn 12, because it means he’ll have the opportunity to receive the priesthood himself. It also means he will be able to do baptisms for the dead in the Sydney Australia Temple, about an hour’s drive from his home. He’s pleased that his family was shown on a national news program having prayers before dinner. He’s excited to have four cousins serving full-time missions—and would like to serve one himself. And he has a great love for his parents and his brother and sisters.
“My brother, Ethan, teases me a lot,” Matthew jokes, “but that’s what older brothers do!”
Seriously, he adds, “I know my Heavenly Father loves his children and that we’re in families to feel that same kind of love.”
When you visit Matthew and watch him play with his friends, you realize that he’s a normal 11-year-old Australian. He lives in the country, jumps on the trampoline, helps his dad and brother with chores, and likes to ride his bicycle.
He will probably continue to do well as an actor. But as one director wrote in a letter to the Krok family, “If in time he gets out of acting, I wouldn’t worry. He has a solid set of values that will see him through.”

College started for Amy at the end of August. Dorm life was really exciting. It didn’t take Amy and her roommate Letitia long to discover that they could make new friends very easily by sitting downstairs in the lobby. Someone was bound to come up and introduce himself.
One evening during the first week, Amy was studying her Spanish when a tall blond boy in a sports coat seated himself on the couch across from her. “What are you reading?” he inquired.
Amy looked up and smiled. “Spanish,” she answered.
“Ahhh. Fun. I study French myself. You must be a freshman.”
“Because I’m studying Spanish?”
“No, because we’ve never met. My name is Rod. And you are?”
“Amy.”
“Hi, Amy. Do you know about the big rally with Dr. Reality tomorrow night? I’m on the publicity committee.”
“No. Who’s Dr. Reality?”
“The main thing Dr. Reality does is give some very, very good study tips. Just wonderful.” Rod shook his head and smiled.
Amy shrugged. “Sounds good. Where is it?”
Rod gave her directions and added, somewhat condescendingly, “I must warn you, his lead-in is about how God doesn’t exist and how prayers before tests don’t help, but his study tips will.”
Amy suddenly felt like she’d been sucked into something. “How much of that does he say?” she asked guardedly.
“Quite a bit. It’s sponsored by the Free-Thinking Student Association. But you don’t have to be an atheist or anything. The study tips are good for everyone. So, what religion are you? I could see you getting nervous when I talked about God not existing, so I assume you must believe in one.”
“Oh, I’m not a very religious person,” Amy faltered. “I was baptized a Mormon when I was little, and I’ve gone there a few times, but I’m not really into that sort of thing.”
Rod leaned back and put his hands behind his head. “Oh, good! A Mormon!”
“What? I didn’t say I was a good Mormon.”
Rod chuckled. “Mormons are so funny. They have so much faith.”
Amy was confused. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Look out there. Do you see God? Do you really have any concrete evidence that he exists?”
Amy suddenly found her tongue. “Why do you care whether or not I believe in a God I can’t see?”
“Oh, I don’t care,” Rod assured her. “Believe what you want.”
I’ve got to get out of here, Amy thought. “I just remembered some stuff I need to do upstairs.” She got up and left quickly.
As she went up the stairs she felt the warm calmness of love from her Heavenly Father enfolding her. It was a feeling she knew she could not be imagining.
When she rounded the corner into her hall she came face to face with a girl with glasses and long, dark hair. Amy smiled on reflex.
“Hi, you’re not Amy, are you? I’m looking for Amy Richards,” the girl said.
“That’s me.”
The girl twisted her hands back and forth nervously. “Well, my name’s Sophie Petrowsky and I just thought I’d come by and say hi because I hear we go to the same church.”
Not another one! Amy stiffened. “The only church I’ve gone to at all is the Mormon church and I don’t go there very much. I just got invited to become an atheist.” She laughed ruefully, not wanting to hurt Sophie’s feelings. “It’s been a long day.”
Sophie relaxed a little. “Yes, it has,” she agreed. “Well, the Mormon church is where I go, and I thought—How did you get invited to become an atheist?”
Amy explained to her about Rod and what he’d said. Sophie nodded. “That sounds like Rod. I lived here last year and got to talk to him. He’s really smart, and he can be nice, but he’s a little overbearing. There are a lot of kids around here who just want to argue and cause trouble. And of course you’ll get all kinds of invitations to join different student organizations.”
“Why does everyone care so much about gaining converts around here?” Amy asked bluntly.
Sophie thought for a minute. “Well, we do like new faces in our groups. We like to make new friends. But in the Church there’s more to it than that.” Sophie twisted her hands again. “We have a message that we want to share with you and with everyone, and it’s because we love you,” she said softly. “This guy named Paul called the Latter-day Saint Institute about you a couple days ago.”
Amy closed her eyes, then shook her head and smiled. “Paul, you idiot,” she whispered. “What did he say?”
“Oh, he said you were really neat and that you’d been studying the Church a little. Mostly he wanted to make sure that you’d have a friend here, and that you’d know we were here for you. I can tell you about the institute program and when church is and everything if you’d like. We have a really good singles’ group.”
“I don’t have a way to get there.”
“Oh, that’s okay. The institute’s just right down the street, and I can get you a ride to church. I don’t have a car either, but Sister Newell said she’d take us this week.”
“Us?”
“I asked her first to make sure she’d have room. We’d like you to come, but if you don’t want to …”
Amy thought for a minute. “I want to,” she said decisively. “At least once for Paul.”
Five years later, two young men in suits stood at Mark and Letitia Stoon’s front door. They wanted to come in and share a message about Christ, they said. “No, I don’t think so,” Mark began, but Letitia, who had come to see who was at the door, stopped him. “Wait, are you the people with the Book of Mormon?”
The young man smiled. “Yes, we are,” one of them answered.
“I have a friend, Amy Richards. She was my roommate at college for a couple of years. She gave me one of those before she left to be a missionary in Mexico.”
“Really? That’s great. Did you read it?”
“I read some of it. I thought it was interesting. Amy always seemed to care about it. And she still writes to me. She’s a good friend.”
“Do you mind if we come in and talk about it with you a little bit?”
“Not at all,” Letitia smiled. “Come on in.”

I was ordained a deacon in a branch so small that I was the only deacon and my brother Ted the only teacher. We were the only family in the branch. The entire branch met in our home. The priesthood leader for my brother and me was a new convert who had just received the priesthood himself. I believed then my only priesthood duty was to pass the sacrament in my own dining room.

When my family moved to Utah, I found myself in a large ward with many deacons. In my first sacrament meeting there, I observed the deacons—an army, it seemed to me—moving with precision as they passed the sacrament like a trained team.

I was so frightened that the next Sunday I went early to the ward building to be by myself when no one could see me. I remember that it was the Yalecrest Ward in Salt Lake City, and it had a statue on the grounds. I went behind the statue and prayed fervently for help to know how not to fail as I took my place in passing the sacrament. That prayer was answered.

But I know now that there is a better way to pray and to think as we try to grow in our priesthood service. It has come by my understanding why individuals are given the priesthood. The purpose for our receiving the priesthood is to allow us to bless people for the Lord, doing so in His name.

It was years after I was a deacon when I learned what that means practically. For instance, as a high priest, I was assigned to visit a care center sacrament meeting. I was asked to pass the sacrament. Instead of thinking about the process or precision in the way I passed the sacrament, I instead looked in the faces of each elderly person. I saw many of them weeping. One lady grabbed my sleeve, looked up, and said aloud, “Oh, thank you, thank you.”

The Lord had blessed my service given in His name. That day I had prayed for such a miracle to come instead of praying for how well I might do my part. I prayed that the people would feel the Lord’s love through my loving service. I have learned this is the key to serving and blessing others in His name.

A large crowd had braved snowy, treacherous weather conditions and a two-hour drive to Nephi, Utah, to cheer for our high school state championship girls’ basketball game. I felt honored as I watched the townspeople troop in from our small, mountain community of Morgan, Utah. So many had come to watch us play. And boy, did they get a show! Little did I realize at that time the great lesson in life I would be taught at the end of that day.
The score teetered back and forth between the teams in that game on February 17, 1990. It was a tough game, physically and mentally. Early in the second quarter I found myself sitting on the bench, with three fouls. My position not only forced me to become an observer to the battle on the court, but also allowed me to notice the order in which the players were being substituted.
Coach, what are you doing? I thought to myself as he repeatedly put Jodi Rees, a sophomore, into the game before Trisha Garn, a junior. Trisha had been the first person off the bench all season, and now, at state, Coach Wade Fiscus was giving Trisha’s time to Jodi. Jodi’s abilities were certainly par, but changes like this in such an important game weren’t characteristic of Coach Fiscus. I finally decided he must have a good reason and didn’t question his motives.
Throughout the third and fourth quarters the game remained close. While Jodi played her best game, Trisha sat on the bench smiling and cheering her heart out for her friend. Trisha only played a few seconds of the entire championship game.
It came down to the final 30 seconds and the teams were tied. We went up by one, and then two, and finally three. A missed three point attempt by the opposing team gave us the ball with nine seconds remaining. We were still cautious, but could taste the win. The seconds ticked down as we passed the ball to midcourt and the buzzer sounded naming us state champions with a score of 53–50! Bedlam broke out as our fans and teammates swarmed to the floor and surrounded us. We had just achieved the goal we had worked for all year. The trophy was ours and we reveled in our moment of glory.
After the presentation of the trophies, the ladders were brought out to cut the nets down and each team member made the climb to the top to cut a string. Finally, the net hung by one, lonely string. Hal Rees, Jodi’s dad, had the honor of cutting it. He struggled awkwardly up the ladder and, gripping the scissors firmly, managed to snip the last piece.
As the net dropped to the floor tears rolled down the cheeks of our Morgan fans, and when it was placed around Mr. Rees’s neck, members of the Rees family held each other tight.
I soon came to understand why Jodi had played more than Trisha. It was not because Coach Fiscus was crazy, and it was not because one player was a lot better than the other; it was because our friend and teammate had done the most unselfish thing possible—she had asked Coach to let Jodi have her playing time. Trisha Garn understood what many in the room didn’t. Jodi’s 40-year-old dad would not live to see her play again. He was dying of a cancerous brain tumor.
Trisha’s selfless act and the sight of Hal hugging Jodi really put our state championship in perspective for me. Sure, it was nice to have the honors of men, but compared to eternal matters of family and Christlike love it didn’t seem so significant.
“I don’t feel like I made a sacrifice,” Trisha comments. “Jodi is an outstanding athlete. I wanted to do this for my friend.”
Two-and-a-half weeks after the game, Jodi’s dad died. At his funeral the song “Wind beneath My Wings” was sung. Every time I hear the line from that song “Did you ever know that you were my hero?” I think of Trisha. She is my hero. And she’d probably say, “No big deal.” But it’s a big deal to me.

“I had a great experience, and I loved my mission. The work was really going well there, and we had a lot of good missionaries,” Darrell says. “Of course, I wanted to play football after my mission, but I figured the Lord would take care of that. I had always wanted to play football, and somehow I knew it was going to work out.”
When Darrell’s mission was almost complete, he began thinking more and more about football. He knew the coaching staff at Northern Arizona had been fired, so he was an unknown commodity to the new coaching staff there. The great mystery in Darrell Bevell’s life was where he was going to go to college. Would he ever get to stand on the field and throw balls to open receivers? Would anybody offer him a scholarship?
One of his assistant coaches at Northern Arizona had taken a job as an assistant at the University of Wisconsin, and he remembered Darrell. In need of another quarterback in the program, the assistant got in contact with Darrell’s dad and asked if he thought his son would be interested in playing football in Wisconsin. Considering Wisconsin competes in one of the country’s top football conferences, and that it plays its home games in a 75,000-seat stadium, Darrell’s dad figured he might be able to persuade his son to check out the school.
After he finished his mission in October of 1991, Darrell made his recruiting trip to the University of Wisconsin and became convinced that was the place for him. “I basically decided then that I wanted to go there,” he says. He sat out the entire 1991 season and got ready for 1992.
During his freshman season of 1992, Darrell broke into the starting lineup in Wisconsin’s second game against Bowling Green State, and helped engineer a win over then number-12 ranked Ohio State in the Badgers’s fourth game. What made that victory all the better is that it was televised nationally by ESPN. Needless to say, a lot of people in Scottsdale, as well as those who knew him as Elder Bevell in Ohio, were crowded around their television sets. A shoulder injury hampered his play the remainder of the season, but he still completed 51 percent of his passes and threw for eight touchdowns. The future is extremely bright for Darrell as he prepares for his sophomore season. And the missionary work continues.