Gospel Story Finder

“When Reverend Price, my predecessor, first came here as a young rector, there was no village school for the children. A few of the wealthier families sent their children into Oswestry on the train to attend school, but most of the children went without formal instruction. Mabel married Arthur Jones about that time. She moved into Bwlch Farm and was soon involved in the community. It concerned her no end that all the young children here were illiterate. She approached Reverend Price to see if they could do something about it. This was what they came up with.”
Reverend Lloyd opened the thick wooden door into a small room containing one large wooden desk, a large old oak chair, and half a dozen small chairs and tables. On the wall were faded maps, pictures of wild animals, and the alphabet.
“For ten years this was the Bwlchycibau schoolroom. Mabel would come and teach the children of the village three mornings a week. She received no pay for it. She just did it because she saw a need. There are many farmers around here now who wouldn’t be reading if it weren’t for Mabel Jones.
“When the county finally built a school in the village and sent us a certified teacher, Mabel still stopped by once a week to read to the children. I think it was the highlight of the week for them all.”

My father was a marvelous example of faith, integrity, and commitment to the gospel. My mother died when I was seven, but in my tender youth she taught me the truths of the gospel. She was a woman of great faith; because of her faith and prayers and a miraculous healing, I have sight in my left eye today. Father was out of town. I severely burned the pupil of my eye with a hot metal lid lifter from our wood-burning stove. Mother exercised her faith and prayed fervently to Heavenly Father as she held me lovingly in her arms. Her prayers were heard and my eye was healed. I am very grateful to have been raised in a loving home by goodly parents.

Marny agreed. “They can have so much more fun without those things. A group of kids came over to my house after a football game. It was near Christmastime, and I was the only Latter-day Saint in the group. I think it was the best time I ever had. There were about eight of us, and we sat around the Christmas tree and sang Christmas carols. We stayed up till one o’clock. These were people who would normally go out partying. If they hadn’t been there they would have gone out to the levee and gotten drunk. Later I talked to this guy who had been to the party, and he said, ‘That was one of the best times I’ve ever had.’”

I knew I needed to go to the temple. I lived only a short car ride away from the nearest temple, yet I hadn’t been in months.
One night, I was reading Elder Neil L. Andersen’s talk from the October 2022 general conference. A sentence stood out to me: “As we enter the temple, we are freed for a time from the worldly influences crowding against us as we learn of our purpose in life and the eternal gifts offered us through our Savior, Jesus Christ.”1
I wanted to feel free from the world. Struck with a burst of determination, I scheduled an appointment to do proxy initiatories.
On the day of the appointment, I came home from work feeling tired and grumpy for no reason. I wasn’t in the mood to go to the temple.
But I remembered my past desire, even if I didn’t feel it in the moment. I went back out to my car and started driving.
Twenty minutes later, the temple came into view.
Tears sprang to my eyes. In that moment, my desire returned. The temple was the place I needed to be that night. I had to hold back more tears so I wouldn’t lose sight of the road.
The temple is a place of refuge from worldly influences and the struggles in our lives. President Russell M. Nelson has asked us to “establish a pattern of regular temple attendance.”2 As we do, we’ll enjoy the blessings of returning again and again to the house of the Lord.
Here are just a few of the blessings I noticed from attending the temple that day:
When I attended the temple that day, my bad mood was lifted. It was replaced by “the peace of God, which passeth all understanding” (Philippians 4:7).
The peace we find in the temple comes directly from God. We can connect to God anywhere through His Spirit, but the temple is set apart for us to commune directly with the Lord.
President Nelson taught: “[The temple] is His house. It is filled with His power. … I promise that increased time in the temple will bless your life in ways nothing else can.”3 Attending the temple allows us to feel God’s power. That power can come as revelation, as clarity of mind, or as a feeling of comfort.
Beyond feeling peace, I also remembered the covenants I had previously made. As I acted as proxy in the initiatory, I focused on the words of the ordinance. Those words reminded me that God would give me strength and would help me persevere through my trials.
When we return to the temple, we remember the promises we make to God and the eternal promises He makes to us.
Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught: “We do not build or enter holy temples solely to have a memorable individual or family experience. Rather, the covenants received and the ordinances performed in temples are essential to the sanctifying of our hearts and for the ultimate exaltation of God’s sons and daughters.”4
While we receive personal blessings in the temple, we should also remember the work we do for the dead. When we perform proxy ordinances, they are for the salvation of those beyond the veil.
The names of the people I helped were provided to me by the temple. I didn’t know any of the women I stood as proxy for that day. But I felt the sacred power given to them through the initiatory ordinance.
Our temple attendance helps further God’s plan for His children. In our own small way, we are participating in the work “to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man” (Moses 1:39). Elder Bednar taught, “As we become anxiously engaged in this sacred work, we are obeying the commandments to love and serve God and our neighbors [see Matthew 22:34–40].”5
For those of us who live near a temple, it may be easy to forget the blessings that come from temple attendance. As President Russell M. Nelson has promised, “Increased time in the temple will bless your life in ways nothing else can.”6 For those who live far from a temple, it may be hard to fit temple visits in our schedules. But the power of temple attendance is constant, and the blessings are real.
As we spend more time in the temple, we can find rest from our challenges and our hurt. We can commune with God and be part of His great work—for our own souls and the souls of all His children.

There is the story of two neighboring farmers—one a habitual Sabbath breaker, and the other a faithful observer of the Lord’s day. On one occasion the Sabbath observer severely chastised his neighbor for working his farm on Sundays rather than attending to his religious devotions. This led to an argument and a challenge. “Let us put the matter to a test,” the Sabbath breaker said. “We will select two pieces of ground of equal size and fertility. On them we will plant the same crop. My piece of ground I will work on Sundays, and you will work yours on the other days of the week. Then we will see who gets the greater harvest.”

The challenge was accepted and the conditions were faithfully observed. As the harvest was gathered in, the Sabbath-observing farmer was disappointed to learn that the piece of ground farmed by his neighbor had produced the greater yield. The Sabbath breaker exulted in his apparent triumph and his discrediting of the contention of his faithful neighbor.

“You have forgotten one important thing,” protested the Sabbath observer. “The Lord doesn’t always settle his accounts in October.”

Some of the missionaries in places that had been hard hit decided to make the most of the situation and make good use of their time even though tracting was impossible. “The sister missionaries in our area stayed in our home at this time so they’d have food and because no one was supposed to be out except for cleanup,” said Bishop Bob Horner of the Naches Ward, Yakima Washington North Stake. “They got on the phone and called everyone in the phone book, saying that they were from the Mormon church, and asking if people were okay.
“It was a time when people were scared to death, and it was comforting for them to talk with someone. They were so impressed that the sisters would care enough to call that Sister Karen Miller and Sister Colleen Cummings got 45 contacts through those calls. The sisters felt that since they were on the Lord’s time, they couldn’t waste it. They are two of the greatest missionaries we’ve ever had,” said Bishop Horner.

Even then, baptism was a challenge for Eliza, a humble woman who followed social rules and propriety. She prayed for someone to come baptize her, but no one came. When she heard of a meeting of the Saints about two miles from home, she asked her father’s permission to go and be baptized—as an adult, she respected her father, and he readily consented. At the meeting, there was no discussion about baptism, but Eliza gained courage to stand up and request the privilege. Before she could arise, a dark fear came over her. She pushed through the fear and was baptized in a nearby stream on April 5, 1835. “From that day to this I have not doubted the truth of the work,” she wrote.

The courage of a military leader was recorded by a young infantryman wearing the gray uniform of the Confederacy during America’s Civil War. He describes the influence of General J.E.B. Stuart in these words: “At a critical point in the battle, he leaped his horse over the breastworks near my company, and when he had reached a point about opposite the center of the brigade, while the men were loudly cheering him, he waved his hand toward the enemy and shouted, ‘Forward men! Forward! Just follow me!’
“The men were wild with enthusiasm. The veriest coward on earth would have felt his blood thrill, and his heart leap with courage and resolution. The men poured over the breastworks after him like a wide raging torrent overcoming its barriers” (Emory M. Thomas, Bold Dragoon: The Life of J.E.B. Stuart [1986], 211–12).

A doctor named Rachel Remen tells a true story about a handsome, young football player who loses the feeling of love that light brings. His life had been good, with friends and an athletic body. Then he got cancer in his leg. His leg had to be cut off above the knee. Playing football and receiving fame were now things of the past. He grew angry, making his life dark and confusing. It was hard for him to know who he was.
Doctor Remen asked this young man to draw what his body looked like. He drew a simple sketch of a vase. Then he took a thick, black crayon and drew a deep crack down the vase. It was clear that he believed his body was like a broken vase that could never be useful again. This was not really true. They made him an artificial leg so he could walk. But his heart felt so dark that his body wouldn’t heal.
Then he talked to some people who had problems like his own. He understood their feelings. He started to help other people feel better. A light came into his own heart, and he started to heal.
He met a young lady with similar problems. Her heart was filled with shadows. When he entered her hospital room for the first time, she refused to look at him and lay in bed with her eyes closed. He tried everything he knew to reach her. He played the radio, he told jokes, and finally he took off his artificial leg and let it drop to the floor. Startled, she opened her eyes and saw him for the first time as he began to hop around the room, snapping his fingers in time to the music. She burst out laughing and said, “If you can dance, maybe I can sing.” They became friends. They shared their fears and helped each other feel hopeful.
In the young man’s last visit with the doctor, he looked at his old drawing of the vase with the crack in it and said, “That picture of me is not finished.” Taking a yellow crayon, he drew lines going from the crack to the edges of the paper. He put his finger on the ugly black crack and said, “This is where the light comes through.” (See Kitchen Table Wisdom [1996], 114–18.) I believe he meant that dark and difficult experiences help us to feel the light from Heavenly Father’s love.

“If every kid did something like this, just think how it could change the world.” This comment was overheard at a neighborhood swimming pool last summer in Craig, Colorado, a small community of 8,000 people. It was 13-year-old Evan Pressley they were talking about—and still are.
Evan, a deacon in the Craig First Ward, Meeker Colorado Stake, went door-to-door in his hometown last June asking for money, not for himself, but for orphans in China. He managed to raise $2,418. “And 45 cents,” he adds. He turned what he raised over to a Chinese nonprofit, tax-exempt service organization headquartered near Denver, Colorado.
Evan’s inspiration to help orphans living thousands of miles away in China began with his visit to that country in December of 1996. Evan accompanied his parents, Dave and Mary Pressley, when they adopted his little sister, Marianne Kai Yue. “After I got home, I just wanted to help some babies who are not as fortunate as my little sister, who has found a family.” Marianne and Evan have two older brothers, Ben, 19, and Dan, 18.
As a result of traditional prejudice against females, hundreds of girls are abandoned daily in China. Evan’s little sister was one of them. She had been left on a doorstep in a small village when she was only one day old. On a note attached to her clothing was the handwritten date and time of her birth: “April 15, 1996, 9:23 A.M.” Eight months later, when the Pressleys took her home, she weighed only 10 pounds. Poor nutrition is a fact of life for Chinese orphans. Their caregivers are very loving but lack the funds to feed the babies well.
In the spring of 1997, Evan sent a handwritten letter to Lily Nie and Joshua Zhong, directors of the agency the Pressleys went through to adopt Marianne, informing them of his project. His goal was to raise $2,175. He exceeded that goal and came up with a total of $2,418 (and 45 cents). He made a list of specific things he wanted done with that money: repair a child’s cleft palate and lip; buy a heavy-duty washer and dryer; provide enough formula for eight babies for one month; buy a crib and some toys; set up a small children’s health clinic. All this for $2,418! “Money goes a long way in China,” Evan explains.
In August of 1997, Evan hand-delivered the money to Lily and Joshua. And they more than honored his request. Joshua, who affectionately calls this “the Evan Project,” traveled to China last fall with the money and carefully carried out Evan’s itemized list. He even chose the child that would have the cleft palate surgery. The funds went to the Fusan Children’s Welfare House in Liaoning Province in northern China. “There are more than 150 children there,” Evan says, “and 95 percent of them are handicapped. They’ll never be adopted.”
Was Evan’s project easy? “A lot of people turned me down. I almost quit when I knocked on one man’s door and he told me that he wouldn’t contribute. He even admitted that he was hard-hearted!” Very discouraged at this point, he says, “I fasted for 24 hours and prayed. I told Heavenly Father that I really needed to do this, for the babies in China, and would he please help me find people who wanted to give.” Evan’s prayers were answered.
Several articles were published in the newspapers about the Evan Project. Later, Joshua Zhong sent a letter to one newspaper thanking the people of Craig, Colorado, for their support. He also sent a letter to Evan expressing his feelings. “I want to thank and salute you for an incredibly moving and successful fund-raising effort. I am deeply touched by your love for the Chinese children. … You are an amazing kid with a very BIG heart!”
What does this “amazing kid” have in mind for the future? You guessed it. He’s not through helping orphans in China. He’s given it a lot of thought, and he’s getting close to earning his Eagle Scout Award. For his project he’s going to do something like gathering baby formula—lots of it—to send to Chinese orphanages. After all, when you have a BIG heart, it can strrreettch a whole lot to make room for one more Chinese baby … or 50 … or 150.

1 One day Tanner got a picture of Jesus. He loved the picture. He wanted to share it with somebody. He knew that not everybody knows about Jesus.
2 “Mom, can I give my picture of Jesus to somebody?” Tanner asked.
“Sure,” Mom said. “Who will you give it to?”
“I’m going to give it to my teacher, Mrs. Young. I like her because she reads me lots of stories.”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Mom said. “I’m proud of you.”
3 When Tanner got to preschool, he gave the picture to Mrs. Young. She was happy to get a picture of Jesus. Tanner was happy she liked it.
4 A few days later, Tanner and his family made a book that looked like the Book of Mormon golden plates. Then they wrote their testimonies in the book.
“Mom, can I take our book to school to show Mrs. Young?” Tanner asked.
“Yes, you can,” Mom said.
5 The next day at school, Tanner carried a backpack with his family’s golden plates inside. He told Mrs. Young about the book his family had made. Tanner’s teacher was very interested.
6 When Mom picked up Tanner from school that day, his teacher went to talk to Tanner’s mother.
“Tanner brought something very interesting today,” Mrs. Young said. “Can you tell me more?”
“How would you and your husband like to come to dinner at our house?” Mom asked. “We can talk more then.”
“That sounds great,” Mrs. Young said.
7 A few months later, Tanner and his mother went to Mr. and Mrs. Young’s baptism.
“I’m very happy I shared my picture of Jesus with my teacher,” Tanner said.
“I know that she is too,” Mom said. “You are a big reason why Mrs. Young and her husband are being baptized today.”
8 Tanner had a happy feeling as he watched Mrs. Young be baptized. He smiled as Mom leaned over and whispered, “Four-year-olds are great missionaries!”

However, no war is won in a single battle, and Lorenzo Snow, just like everyone else, had to continue to struggle in order to grow spiritually. His next struggle fits a pattern known and appreciated by many who have served as missionaries.

Sidney Rigdon, a member of the First Presidency and a former minister himself, recognizing the importance of education, encouraged Lorenzo to continue with his schooling. However, the former Oberlin student had other goals in mind. Though he said he was extremely shy and the thought of preaching to others concerned him deeply, he was still consumed by a desire to share the gospel with others. To him it was the most important thing he could do.

About that time a proclamation from the First Presidency was issued, inviting those who wanted to become members of the elders quorum to submit their names. If approved by the Presidency, they would be ordained. Lorenzo submitted his name, “which is the only time in my life,” he commented later, “that have offered my name for or solicited an office or calling.”

In the spring of 1837 he set out alone to preach without purse or scrip, with the intent of doing missionary work in Ohio. This was to be one of the hardest ordeals of his life, personality-wise.

“It was, however, a severe trial to my natural feelings of independence to go without purse or scrip—especially the purse; for, from the time I was old enough to work, the feeling that I ‘paid my way’ always seemed a necessary adjunct to self respect, and nothing but a positive knowledge that God required it now, as He did anciently of His servants, the Disciples of Jesus, could induce me to go forth dependent on my fellow creatures for the common necessaries of life. But my duty in this respect was clearly made known to me, and I determined to do it.”

With concern in his heart and trust in his Lord, Elder Snow embarked on his first mission. He visited an aunt and then traveled for about thirty miles. Just as the sun was setting, he made his first official call as a Mormon elder and was refused a night’s lodging. Eight calls he made that night before being admitted for the night—“going to bed supperless, and leaving in the morning, minus a breakfast.” This was his first introduction to missionary work, but he refused to let discouragement get him down, and he served a faithful mission in his home state before moving with the Saints to Missouri.

Last year, I had the idea to start a book club with a few of my friends who also enjoy reading. We took turns choosing a book for everyone in the club to read, and then we would get together and have fun talking about our book. One day, my mom suggested that my friends and I start a Book of Mormon club! She thought that it would be a fun idea to read the Book of Mormon together. My friends love the Book of Mormon too, so they also liked the idea. Now we all read one book in the Book of Mormon at a time, and then we get together and talk about what we are learning after each book. Sometimes we play fun games, do a craft, or have treats.
The Book of Mormon is sometimes challenging to read, but I feel happy that I am choosing to read the scriptures along with my other books. I love learning about the gospel with my friends!

As a young missionary serving in the Chile Concepción Mission, Sean Douglas began his service in the rural backcountry. His “wonderful first Chilean companion and trainer spoke Spanish at lighting speed.” After three months in the South American country, Elder Douglas still struggled with Spanish.
Discouragement and homesickness plunged him into doubt and drove him to his knees. “I am not doing any good,” he prayed. “I do not seem to be impacting anyone.”
His heart filled with a burning question from above: “Are you here for Me, or are you here for you?”
At this moment he resolved with God to forget himself and keep trying. “That very night I dreamt in Spanish,” he said.
The following day everything was easier. “I could speak a little better. I could understand a little more,” he said. “The mission catalyzed my testimony of the power of prayer and that when you go and do what the Lord commands, He always provides a way for you.”
That philosophy has guided the rest of his life.

When I was a young child, my father was not a member of the Church and my mother had become less active. We lived in Washington, D.C., and my mother’s parents lived 2,500 miles (4,000 km) away in the state of Washington. Some months after my eighth birthday, Grandmother Whittle came across the country to visit us. Grandmother was concerned that neither I nor my older brother had been baptized. I don’t know what she said to my parents about this, but I do know that one morning she took my brother and me to the park and shared with us her feelings about the importance of being baptized and attending Church meetings regularly. I don’t remember the specifics of what she said, but her words stirred something in my heart, and soon my brother and I were baptized.
Grandmother continued to support us. I remember that anytime my brother or I was assigned to give a talk in church, we would call her on the telephone for some suggestions. Within a few days a handwritten talk would arrive by mail. After some time her suggestions changed to an outline requiring more effort on our part.
Grandmother used just the right amount of courage and respect to help our father recognize the importance of his driving us to the church for our meetings. In every appropriate way, she helped us to feel a need for the gospel in our lives.
Most importantly, we knew Grandmother loved us and that she loved the gospel. She was a marvelous example! How grateful I am for the testimony she shared with me when I was very young. Her influence changed the direction of my life for eternal good.

I have always trusted in the Lord and His commandments. When the economy took a turn for the worse, however, I lost my overtime hours and my salary dropped. I stopped paying tithing and told myself that the Lord would understand. Nevertheless, my debts grew and my paychecks shrank.
Seeing my struggle, several relatives told me that above all else I should pay my tithes because this would help me overcome my trials. But I always ended up paying my bills instead. I was willing to pay tithing when my financial seas were calm, but I became afraid when my financial situation was stormy (see Matthew 14:28–31).
Heading home from work one afternoon after getting paid, I thought of all my debts. I closed my eyes and prayed, “Father, what am I going to do?” At that moment I opened my eyes and noticed on the ceiling of the bus a poster of Peter sinking into a stormy sea with the Savior reaching out to rescue him. At the bottom of the poster were the words “Unshaken Faith.” I realized I needed to pay my tithing if I ever wanted to pay off my debts.
When I arrived home, I found a tithing envelope and put my tithing inside. As I sealed the envelope, I heard the words “All is well” and felt a joy that brought peace to my soul.
I know that God will bring His blessings into my life when He deems it prudent to do so. Until then the sea may remain stormy, but the peace I feel for obedience is more than enough.

Joe Pickett, a deacon in the Napa Third Ward, Napa California Stake, is a real hero. After a swim one day in his family’s backyard pool, instead of going inside the house, Joe felt prompted to look in the shallow end of the pool. His little brother, three-year-old Jonathan, had fallen in, and no one had noticed. Thinking quickly, Joe jumped in and pulled his brother to safety and called to his mother for help. When his mom got to the pool, she took over, and Joe phoned 911. Thanks to Joe, Jonathan returned to full health after a short stay in the hospital.

With sorrow we have read of young men and those not so young who bravely die, who give their lives upon the altar of freedom. In a hurried moment, one such took in hand a pencil and a scrap of paper and wrote to a worried loved one: “Soon we go into battle. The enemy is well fortified; loss of life will be great. Mom, I hope I live, but I’m not afraid to die, for I’m right with God.”

His mother received the precious note. On the same day another message arrived; “We regret to inform you that your son has been killed in action.”

Friends visited, loved ones comforted, but peace came only from him who called Nazareth his home.

The field is so big they call it the Plain. The ranks of soldiers who will march across it seem so endless they call them the Long Gray Line. And even though heavy rain is forecast, more than 10,000 spectators are on hand. It is, after all, commencement time at West Point, New York, home of the U.S. Military Academy. For graduates, this is their final parade as cadets.
As the troops marshall themselves on the field, one small group stands in front, stiff at attention, the black plumes of their “tarbucket” hats ruffling in the breeze. These are the cadet commanders. And the tallest, and second in command, is Shaun Greene, deputy brigade commander—and returned missionary.
How Shaun got to this point, to be among the highest cadet officers as well as in the top 5 percent of his class academically, is a story of faith, inspiration, and perseverance, or as Shaun might say, of learning to put first things first.
When he was 14, Shaun, a native of Roseville, California (near Sacramento), received his patriarchal blessing. “At age 14, I was not known as a particularly religious guy,” Shaun says. “But the stake patriarch was moving, and my parents thought he was a great guy, so I prepared for the blessing and got it.”
One phrase in the blessing startled Shaun. It mentioned serving in the military, and told him that if he was obedient he would be protected in time of war. “There were other things that were quite specific, as far as having a family for example, but the sentence about the military really affected me,” Shaun explains. “I’d always been interested in the military, but I hadn’t told the patriarch about that and I’m sure he didn’t know.”
The words of the blessing stayed with him. As he reached college age, he planned to attend the U.S. Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs, Colorado. But a misunderstanding about an eye examination disqualified him, so he accepted an academic scholarship at Brigham Young University instead.
“I was thinking that if I was going into the military, then I’d get into pre-med and become a doctor,” Shaun says. But his pre-med studies left him dissatisfied. “I quickly found that wasn’t what I wanted to do.”
At the same time, Shaun felt a growing testimony that the gospel was true. He heard the prophet say all worthy young men should serve a mission. It sounded like a case of putting first things first.
“A mission wasn’t something I had really planned on until then. My parents would talk about me going on a mission and I’d just smile. But when I started looking into the Church for myself, I became converted.”
He was called to serve in the Taiwan Taipei Mission. “BYU did some terrific things for me,” Shaun says. “But I think the mission did even more. I saw the gospel in action. I learned to try to love as the Savior loves.”
At the end of his mission, Shaun again felt prompted to act on the words of his patriarchal blessing. Getting into the military now seemed to be putting first things first, so he wrote to West Point. He also wrote to his senator and congressman, since cadets can only enter the military academy by senatorial, congressional, or presidential appointment. And even though he had attended college and served a mission, he met the age limitation (you can’t be older than 22) by ten days.
Shaun’s record at West Point has been outstanding. He is one of only a few cadets ever to make it through four years without a single demerit. He served as regimental commander for cadet basic training. He’s been on a cultural exchange program in China and Hong Kong. He’s had dinner with senators and generals, been interviewed by the national media, and he’s on line for a scholarship that will allow him to study in the Orient, then pursue a graduate degree at Harvard University.
Talk to Academy administrators and you’ll hear things like: “He’ll make a great addition to the army.” “He’s somebody who can get things done.” “He’s already a seasoned officer. He’s just masquerading as a cadet.”
And the story could end right there, except there’s another person involved, another Latter-day Saint who, thanks to the promptings of the Spirit, put first things first and found her way into Shaun’s life.
Several years ago, Amy Stohl didn’t know exactly why she accepted a position as an au pair (similar to a nanny) with an LDS military family living in Belgium. She just felt right about it. She enjoyed her time with the Robert McBride family, and they became close friends.
Soon, however, Amy was back at BYU, where she continued work on her pre-med requirements. But she became convinced that medical school just wouldn’t be right for her, and she switched to a humanities major.
A couple of years later, the McBrides, now assigned to the U.S. Military Academy, called to tell Amy about a cadet named Shaun Greene. He’d been a student at BYU before, but was now at West Point. He was going to be at BYU for a couple of days in the fall to watch a football game, and they’d like her to meet him. Shaun and Amy got acquainted and began writing to each other.
By January, Amy was close to graduation, but was planning to stay at BYU for one more semester. “But I became restless,” she says. “I prayed for guidance, and I felt something important was coming up.”
She talked to the McBrides and decided to move to Manhattan. “I found a place to live, had a job lined up, even arranged to finish my degree by correspondence,” Amy says. “Everything seemed to be working out.
“But when I visited West Point, I had a strong impression that I had to stay, isolated as it was, so that I could understand Shaun and what he had been through. I don’t know that anyone can fully understand a cadet’s thinking without spending time at West Point.”
The understanding grew. In fact, now Shaun and Amy see each other every evening.
It’s graduation day at West Point. Time for the final parade. And even though rain will soak cadets and spectators alike, it won’t matter. Tomorrow the sun will shine, bright and hot, and the graduates, dressed in white because their gray uniforms were ruined by the storm, will receive their diplomas and commissions from the President of the United States.
A few days later, Shaun and Amy will enter the Washington D.C. Temple to be married for time and eternity. Oh, sure, by July Shaun has to report for additional training. But before that, there’s a honeymoon to attend to. It’s a matter of putting first things first.
In a place that prides itself on tradition, LDS cadets are glad to be building a tradition of their own—that of having returned missionaries graduate from West Point. Even though cadets already appointed to the Academy must resign in order to serve a mission, many are able to be reappointed once their mission is complete.
“Returned missionaries have a good reputation here,” says Drew Syphus of Altadena, California, who served in the Italy Milan Mission. “Those who have come back have performed so well it’s made it easier for others who want to go.”
In fact, RMs at the USMA return to school with added maturity and experience, qualities that stand out in the military. “You gain patience in the mission field,” says Clint Pincock, of Blanding, Utah, who served in the Taiwan Taichung Mission. “You learn to stick with it when things get tough. You learn to be sensitive to other people and cultures. It’s really impressive when you tell cadets and teachers about your experiences.”
What’s more, cadets say the Academy—with its emphasis on physical fitness, good study habits, time management, organizational skills, and leadership—provides good training for those preparing for a mission.
“One summer I had 57 people at my command,” says Vince Barnhart of Chambersburg, Pennsylvania. “I had to learn to think on my feet.” After doing that for five weeks, he says, “knocking on doors in England wasn’t intimidating.”
And of course you’ll never hear a cadet-turned-proselytizer complain that the rise-early-and-study-hard schedule at the Church’s Missionary Training Center is just too tough.
There are approximately 4,000 cadets at West Point at any given time; roughly 70 of them are LDS. At the time this article was prepared, there were ten returned missionaries at the Academy, five cadets preparing to leave on missions, and eight former cadets in the mission field (of four soon to return, three are coming back to the corps). Says Robert McBride, West Point’s branch president, “The Academy administration is accepting more and more that a mission can be a good thing for a cadet.”

One of my sons, at age 12, decided to raise rabbits. We built cages and acquired one large male and two female rabbits from a neighbor. I had no idea what we were getting into. In a very short time, our shed was bursting with bunnies. Now that my son is grown, I must confess my amazement at how they were controlled—a neighbor’s dog occasionally got into the shed and thinned out the herd.
But my heart was touched as I saw my son and his brothers watch over and protect those rabbits. And now, as husbands and fathers, they are worthy priesthood holders who love, strengthen, and watch over their own families.