Gospel Story Finder

I broke my foot in gym one year because of envy. It was during a basketball practice on an outdoor court. I tried to make Jenny Jaimeson’s shoe come off her heel just as she directed a beautiful shot toward the basket. She jumped away too quickly, and I slipped off balance and fell on the concrete. Something snapped as I went down.
The bell rang, and Jenny disappeared to her next class. I limped to the office to call my mom. X-rays confirmed a broken foot. I learned in a painful, very embarrassing way that we can’t succeed by trying to hold others back.
I had been trying to hold Jenny back so I could somehow reach her level. Not only did she play basketball well, but she swam on the swim team and was good at jazz dance. She glowed. She sported the kind of complexion that is tan all year long. She was always flashing a fabulous smile. Everyone liked Jenny.
The next day I arrived at school with a cast and crutches, hoping to maneuver my way down the hall without being too noticeable. Jenny saw me at my locker and hurried over. If she had any idea how the accident happened, she never let on.
“Oh, wow. Are you okay? Can I carry your books?” she asked.
It was impossible for me not to like Jenny too. That was the maddening part. She was so likable.
I didn’t overcome my envy overnight, but six weeks hobbling around on crutches and trying to coordinate my wardrobe with plaster of paris helped me reflect—on Jenny and on me. She worked hard at what she liked to do and made the most of her talents. When I began to unearth my own talents, my life began to change. I practiced the cello because I loved playing. I showed up for track (once the cast was gone, of course), wrote poetry, and volunteered with a friend at the community hospital. I invited nonmember friends to Young Women.
I haven’t seen Jenny since we graduated, but I’m sure she’s accomplished great things. Envy, I’ve learned, is a way of giving up. It definitely keeps you down! Everyone has unique talents, challenges, and opportunities. We make our own happiness and success through effort and hard work.

Let me give you a modern example. When I was in graduate school at Washington State University, at the end of winter semester I had just moved into a new apartment with my previous roommate, Amy. Ellen, our new roommate, was going home for the summer because she had a great internship lined up. Ellen's home was Juneau, Alaska. So just as I was moving in, she was taking off for the summer. Ellen had packed up everything she owned in her little pickup, planning to store her stuff at her sister's house, across the state, 6 hours away, in Olympia, Washington. The next day, she was supposed to catch her flight from Seattle to Juneau so she could start her internship the following day. She was on a tight schedule. Of course, disaster struck. In the middle of nowhere, Ellen's pickup broke down. This is in the 1990s--before everyone had cell phones. Ellen found someone nice who drove her to the closest town and she was at a service station, waiting for the tow-truck driver. In despair, Ellen called us. My roommate Amy answered the phone. The next thing I knew, Amy was grabbing her coat and keys. She was going to get Ellen. Now, I don't remember what Amy had planned for that weekend, but it certainly wasn't a 700-mile 12-hour round trip across Washington State 350 miles there and 350 miles back. I felt ashamed. My first thought hadn't been to go get Ellen. But, I rationalized that Amy and Ellen were practically family. Ellen had been roommates with Amy's two older sisters and had even spent holidays with their family. So then I didn't feel quite so bad.

But before I tell you what he says, we need to go back and catch up on the story of the Alma family and how Alma the Younger got to this point in his life.
Alma’s father was also Alma, commonly referred to as Alma the Elder. We first learn about him as a 20-something-year-old priest [2] in the courts of Noah, a wicked Nephite King.
While working there, Alma the Elder is converted by the words of the prophet Abinidi and, because of his beliefs, has to run into the wilderness and hide from his former colleagues, the other priests, along with a group of about 450 others. They conceal themselves at a place called the Waters of Mormon, and later in a land called Helam, but are eventually discovered by the Lamanites.
To make matters worse, the leader appointed over them by the Lamanites is a man named Amulon, also a former priest of Noah, who still had an axe to grind with Alma. Amulon wanted Alma and his people to suffer.
Now, it’s unclear how much of this Alma the Younger experienced. We don’t know if he was born in the wilderness, or while in Lamanite captivity, or maybe later in the land of Zarahemla. There is a clue, though.
In Mosiah 24:8 when describing the difficulties the people of Alma are experiencing under Amulon’s rule, Mormon makes a point to say that Amulon “[caused] that his children should persecute their children,” [3] maybe referring to Alma the Younger. If he was alive during this period, it couldn’t have been easy for him, facing daily harassment and bullying from Amulon’s kids.
Later, after the Lord miraculously delivers the people of Alma from the Lamanites, they rejoin the Nephites in Zarahemla. Alma the Elder, now close to 50 years old, [4] is asked to organize the Church throughout the land.
It’s safe to assume, because of what we know about Alma the Elder, that home life for Alma the Younger included family home evening, regular scripture study, family prayer, and youth activities. On paper, Alma the Younger should have had all the righteous influence a person needed.
Which is why, at first, it might be a little surprising to learn, when we first meet Alma the Younger in Mosiah 27, that he, along with the king’s sons, don’t believe in the gospel and are among a growing faction of young adults in Zarahemla who aren’t interested in church.
At least some of this group don’t just agree to disagree with Church members; they seek to destroy the Church and lead the people astray. Alma convinced many to his way of thinking and, as it says in verse 8, became a great hindrance to the prosperity of the Church of God. [5]
I’ve wondered, with a father like Alma the Elder, why Alma the Younger had so much resentment towards the Church.
Was it difficult to have a father who was such a strong spiritual leader? Could it be because of the mistreatment and abuse he experienced at the hands of Amulon’s children when he was a kid, if in fact he was alive for some of this experience in the wilderness? What emotional scars did he have from those moments and how did they shape his view of the world and his relationship with God?
Well, you know the rest of the story. An angel visits Alma the Younger and commands him to stop. Alma goes through a very painful and accelerated repentance process and becomes a completely different person. He focuses his energies on trying to repair the damage he caused, and after a time he replaces his father as the high priest of the Church.
Now we’re all caught up and back to Alma 29 where he finds himself, an experienced minister, frustrated that he can’t do more to convince people of the truth. It’s right here, disheartened, he says to himself, “O that I were an angel” [6]—or maybe, in other words, “it was angel that helped me, and if I was an angel, maybe I could save more people.” But then he stops himself and says, “I ought not to harrow up in my desires the firm decree of a just God.” [7]
He’s quick to point out how critical choice is to God’s plan, and here’s the line that’s very interesting: “For I know that he granteth unto men according to their desire.” [8]

In my own experience I will recall a mother who visited her bishop. She said, “We have given my daughter permission to date, and she is just 15. She is more mature than other girls her age.” Physically she was more mature than other girls her age, and the mother felt totally justified in letting this young lady date. Of course, the bishop counseled very strongly against it, but to no avail. Within a short time the daughter came in alone to see the bishop, heartbroken and carrying a burden of guilt that a person so young—any person, in fact—should never have to carry.

How foolish we are to suppose that when the prophets speak—President Kimball, Elder Petersen, President McKay, President Lee, and all of the latter-day prophets have spoken on this subject—how foolish we are to ignore their counsel and advice and to make decisions contrary to theirs. My personal counsel to our youth would be to follow the prophet, obey his counsel, walk in the footsteps he would have you follow, and remain clean and pure. In due time you will have the opportunity to date, and at that time, hopefully, you will be mentally mature and able to handle the new emotions and feelings that swell inside the normal young person’s physical body. The odds for remaining clean and pure and going worthily to the sacred altars in the temple, never having transgressed the moral code, very much favor those who do not date until they are 16.

Now, my dear young friends, the Lord doesn’t always tell us why. We simply get direction and sometimes have to trust. Often your parents will not be able to tell you why they feel you shouldn’t date until you are 16; the bishop cannot give you all of the reasons. All they know is that they feel at peace in their heart with this decision, and that is probably the greatest answer that can be given. Follow their counsel, obey your parents, and know the decisions you make in this very serious matter will have eternal implications.

Satan is desirous of destroying every young person in the Church and frustrating God’s work. This will not happen, for our youth have been given a clear signal. We are confident that as you mature and grow in the gospel you will come to anchor your souls to the Savior. You will find strength beyond anything you have ever known. There will never be a temptation come to you that will be too great to bear. There will always be a way to escape. God will watch over you and bless you; trust in him, be prayerful, study the scriptures, attend your meetings regularly, and choose your friends wisely. Make this a matter of great and significant prayer.

My young friends, all I can say to you is, I feel at peace with this decision in my home. Each family head must make the decision. The Church will not make it. We only offer guidelines.

God bless you always and keep you clean and pure.

Hey, wanna buy a cool pen? It has four different colors.
Where’d you get it? How much do you want for it?
My dad gave it to me. You can have it for a dollar.
Dad did say I could spend part of my birthday money any way I wanted.
Do you know where he got that pen? He saw some kid drop it and grabbed it before the kid turned around. He bragged about it to me.
Later, at afternoon recess …
I don’t want anything that was stolen. Just give me my money back.
Too bad. I already spent the money on nachos for lunch.
What am I going to do with this?
… and it has four colors, and it was a birthday present …
Are you looking for this?
Maybe I lost a dollar, but I get to keep my self-respect.

“When our oldest son was about three, he would kneel with his mother and me in our evening prayer. I was serving as the bishop of the ward at the time, and a lovely lady in the ward, Margaret Lister, lay perilously ill with cancer. Each night we would pray for Sister Lister. One evening our tiny son offered the prayer and confused the words of the prayer with a story from a nursery book. He began: ‘Heavenly Father, please bless Sister Lister, Henny Penny, Chicken Little, Turkey Lurkey, and all the little folks.’ We held back the smiles that evening. Later we were humbled as Margaret Lister sustained a complete recovery. We do not belittle the prayer of a child. After all, our children have more recently been with our Heavenly Father than have we.”(Ensign, October 1999, page 2.)

After graduation Franklin received an appointment to the U.S. Naval Academy at Annapolis, Maryland. He wondered if he accepted the appointment if he would ever serve a full-time mission. It was a difficult decision to make. Elder Richards said, “I think unknowingly I was following the advice of the Lord to Oliver Cowdery:

“‘Behold, I say unto you, that you must study it out in your mind; then you must ask me if it be right, and if it is right I will cause that your bosom shall burn within you; therefore, you shall feel that it is right’ (D&C 9:8).

“In effect, I was doing that. I thought about a mission and about my grandfather, and I wondered, Do I want to go to Annapolis or don’t I? So I studied it out, talked to several people, and reached the decision that I would prefer to go on a mission. I made it a matter of prayer, expressing my feelings to the Lord, and the Holy Ghost bore witness to me that my decision was right.”

My friend Kimber came to school on crutches. I asked her what had happened. She said that she was playing soccer and when she tried to kick the ball she kicked a big fat root in the ground instead. I felt bad for her, so I helped her the whole day. I said a prayer that her foot would get better. As I left school, I felt that I had done a good thing. The next day she said that her foot was better. I gave her a big smile. I knew that Heavenly Father had answered my prayer.

Looking for ideas for an Eagle project? Check out what these youths did:
Clark Rogers of Madison, Alabama, teamed up with Dr. Danny Cartwright, a pediatrician in his town, to spread the antismoking message. Clark oversaw a committee that gathered information about smoking advertising. He and Dr. Cartwright then held a press conference about why teens shouldn’t smoke. The press conference was featured in three newspapers and two evening news shows.

My parents continued their education here at BYU, and within their first year of marriage, my mom gave birth to a daughter. Some may remember a story of then Elder Spencer W. Kimball helping a stranded pregnant woman in an airport who was pushing along her young toddler. Because of a threatening miscarriage, she was under doctor’s orders not to pick up the child. Elder Kimball comforted the woman—whom he had never met before and knew nothing about—gave the little girl a piece of gum, and got the young, pregnant, exhausted mother and her wet and hungry two-year-old daughter on the next flight out of Chicago O’Hare International Airport.
That pregnant young woman was my mother. Following this experience with Elder Kimball, my parents were blessed to have ten more naturally born children, adopt another, and also raise my dad’s nephew, who is now my brother. Their ability to rear thirteen children was clearly a miracle. I am the twelfth of these thirteen children. My parents were true leaders.

Playing the Prophet
After an extensive nationwide search for a temple-worthy member to represent the Prophet, Nathan Mitchell, who previously played the adult Joseph in the recent Church film The Restoration, was again chosen to play the role of the Prophet. Two other actors played the roles of Joseph at age seven and as a teenager.
After receiving the role, Brother Mitchell was struck by a line from the hymn, “Praise to the Man” (Hymns, no. 27): “Millions shall know ‘Brother Joseph’ again.”
“I realized that if this film is to be one of the means by which millions come to know the Prophet, then first I had to know him,” Brother Mitchell said.
He began extensive research of Joseph Smith’s character by reading books and Joseph’s journals and papers and by speaking with Church history professors and others.
“My feelings about the Prophet Joseph are so special to me that I wanted to do him justice,” he said. “I just hope that the audience can have some of those same realizations and that they can start to understand Joseph. Then they will begin to understand his love of the Savior, and they will really feel his testimony.”

The doctor’s words, “Chris, you have a tumor. Chris, you have cancer,” sent waves of shock, fear, and despair through me. I had felt sure the lump was a hernia or maybe a swollen lymph node, but it was not.
After my 15-year-old son’s diagnosis, events happened very quickly. The following morning we were at Primary Children’s Medical Center in Salt Lake City for more CT scans, a bone scan, an MRI, a bone marrow aspiration, and a tumor biopsy. The news was not good. Chris had a small tumor on his pelvis near his left thigh. It was diagnosed as Ewing’s sarcoma, a type of bone cancer. Chemotherapy was scheduled to begin the next week.
As a nurse, I knew what we were in for medically. But I never expected the overwhelming fear and gloom that came over me. Those feelings soon changed, however.
Chris wasn’t even home from the hospital a day when his friends Ben Williams, Ben Brookes, and Jeremy Lamb picked him up so they could go to another friend’s house to watch videos and eat. That by itself calmed me. They were doing normal teenage things, and I was so relieved to see them not treating Chris any differently. I later found out the boys didn’t even talk about Chris’s cancer. “Why should they?” Chris asked.
When the chemotherapy began, so did the inevitable side effects, including hair loss. I don’t know why it bothered me so much, but it did—probably more than it bothered Chris. At first, there was hair on his pillow. Then it was in the sink. Finally, Chris shaved off what hair was left. Later that afternoon with Chris napping on the couch, the two Bens and Jeremy knocked at the door. As they came in, they doffed their hats to show Chris their cleanly shaved heads. They laughed together and watched a video of them all shaving each other’s heads.
“Now I wasn’t the only one with a shaved head. I just had the smoothest,” explained Chris.
A few days later at school, the four boys were walking down the hallway when a girl said, “They look like they have cancer.” Alone, that remark could have been devastating. Together, they just laughed about it.
One Sunday, as my husband and I sat in fast and testimony meeting with Chris’s older brother, Jeremy, fear continued to engulf me. Chris had been hospitalized again with a fever and low blood counts. We were new in our ward, and very few people knew of Chris’s condition. As I listened half-heartedly, a high councilman stood at the pulpit to bear his testimony. He talked about his love for some of the youth he’d met in another ward in our stake. He talked about how three of the priests there had shaved their heads for a friend who had cancer. Then his voice broke slightly when he said, “That boy lives in our ward now and is my home teacher.
“I wonder,” he continued, “if our youth would be that supportive.” The challenge was taken and met. That afternoon, our ward was graced by several very bald young men, including Chris’s older brother, Jeremy.
“One Sunday before sacrament meeting we were all lined up, and all of us were bald. The congregation just laughed,” Chris said.
Since that time, both the young men and young women of our ward continued to support Chris and our family. During one particularly hard hospitalization, friends traveled an hour to visit him and cheer him up. Two days after he came home, they picked him up and took him out for all-you-can-eat pizza.
Each day the young men of the ward would gather at the Owenses’ home across the street from us. They are the only ones with a usable basketball court, and the young men would come to play ball. As I watched out the window as they played, Chris would sometimes stop playing and just sit on the grass with some of the younger kids who had gathered and laugh with them as they’d steal his hat and rub his smooth head. “Even though it was my hardest summer, it was also my funnest,” said Chris.
And the love and support didn’t stop. Last September after church, we noticed a crowd of young men, young women, children, and their leaders walking toward our door. As they filled our small living room, they surprised Chris with a homemade quilt and pillow. The blocks of the quilt were each designed by different young women or young men with their own well-wishes, jokes, and funny pictures. They asked Chris to take the quilt and pillow with him to the hospital so he could be reminded of them and their love.
“The comments and pictures on the quilt made me laugh,” said Chris. “When I saw them coming up our driveway, I thought it must be some kind of activity, and I wondered why I hadn’t been told about it. It was a neat thing for them to do.”
After the young people had presented the quilt, the Sambongis, our neighbors from Japan, gave Chris his gift, a sembazuru, which translated means 1,000 paper cranes. The Sambongis told Chris that in Japan, cranes are said to live as long as 1,000 years, and that a paper crane will take away sickness when it flies away. They also gave him a note:
“Dear Chris, These paper cranes were made by a lot of people, including people in our ward and those you have never met before. We all pray for your recovery, and may the Lord bless you.”
The Lord has blessed us—with good neighbors, friends, professionals, and especially strong, loving young men and young women. And Chris knows it too.
The youth and the leaders of the Orem Sharon Park Third Ward, and Chris’s three friends from the Sixth Ward have been great. Their kindness and thoughtfulness during a very painful and difficult time has helped much more than they’ll ever know.

My brother, Andrew, my twin sister, Stephanie, and I were all raised by parents who sacrificed for us, taught us right and wrong, and, most importantly, taught us strong moral values. Nevertheless, I started to doubt my parents’ advice and beliefs around the beginning of my teenage years.
I made many poor choices, but one thing remained firm in my mind: a desire to know the truth in religion. I desired to know of God, so I turned to the intellectual pursuit of that knowledge and thought of myself as an agnostic.*
One year I spent hours pondering the meaning of life and the nature of God.
I pored over religious books and websites, learning about different religions and forming my own theories about God and His workings in our lives.
I wasn’t happy during that year, but I was too busy seeking more knowledge to realize it. I continued to make poor choices, which only widened the rift between my family and me. I felt lost.
I came to a point where I felt I had to make a life-ending or a life-starting decision. When I thought about making the life-ending choice, I remembered what a young man had given me almost four years earlier.
In the seventh grade, Sawyer had recognized my curiosity about God and had given me a Book of Mormon. Later, that Book of Mormon was sold in a garage sale. In tenth grade, he asked what I had done with the Book of Mormon. I had felt so bad about telling him it had been sold that when he invited me to go to Mutual or seminary with him, I agreed.
I went to seminary after having read all I could find about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, with a notepad full of questions intended to disprove it. Once there, as I read them, they were answered with kindness and certainty. I exhausted all my questions and gave up, resigned to the fact that there was something special about the Church.
The next Tuesday, I went to Mutual with Sawyer. He asked if I minded if the missionaries came over to talk to me. I didn’t fully understand the question, but I agreed to meet them.
During the discussion with the missionaries, I recounted the story of Joseph Smith and wanted to know the next step. It was a very Spirit-filled discussion, but I was lacking one thing. I told the missionaries I believed, and I thought I believed, but I didn’t truly understand what it meant. I continued to have discussions with the missionaries and to learn about Jesus Christ’s restored gospel.
There came a point, however, when I was overwhelmed with the storm of life, and I went to the missionaries for help. They showed me 3 Nephi 14:24–25:
“Therefore, whoso heareth these sayings of mine and doeth them, I will liken him unto a wise man, who built his house upon a rock—
“And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell not, for it was founded upon a rock.”
Once I heard those verses, my heart rejoiced, and I felt the storm lessen. I asked the missionaries what that meant. They replied that it was the Holy Spirit confirming truth to me. After that moment, I had a testimony of the Book of Mormon, and since I had a testimony of the Book of Mormon, everything else fell into place. I knew that there is a living prophet, that Joseph Smith really was called of God and is the Prophet of the Restoration, and that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints really is the true Church.
My knowledge was gained through my faith; my faith was not gained by my knowledge.
Ever since I received a testimony of the Book of Mormon, I have strived to live according to the commandments of God. It’s a lifelong journey but one I look forward to.
I can’t give thanks enough to the people who set me on this journey. I can, however, be the best disciple of Jesus Christ I can be and pray that my actions will invite others to join me on this journey back to our Heavenly Father.

For centuries, righteous women have been stepping forward to join the cause of Christ. Many of you have only recently been baptized; your covenants are fresh in your hearts, your sacrifices still tender. As I think about you, I am reminded of Priscilla Staines from Wiltshire, England. Nineteen-year-old Priscilla joined the Church in 1843. Alone. She had to steal away in the night to be baptized, because of the persecutions of her neighbors and the displeasure of her family. She wrote: “We waited until midnight … and then repaired to a stream of water a quarter of a mile away. Here we found the water … frozen over, and the elder had to chop a hole in the ice large enough for the purpose of baptism. … None but God and his angels, and the few witnesses who stood on the bank with us, heard my covenant; but in the solemnity of that midnight hour it seemed as though all nature were listening, and the recording angel writing our words in the book of the Lord.”
When young Priscilla, our British convert of 1843, crossed the Atlantic, she was befriended by a woman the age of her mother. This older sister also felt the fire of covenants she had made. When they docked at the wharf in Nauvoo, she was by Priscilla’s side. Together, bold and believing, they joined with the Saints of God.
Holiness prompts the words “Here am I; send me.” When Priscilla Staines made her midnight covenant in those icy waters, she stepped forward into a new life, clothes nearly frozen yet heart warmed with joy. “There was no turning back,” she said. “I … set out for the reward of everlasting life, trusting in God.”

I spend my time paddleboarding, ice fishing, and raising show hogs and turkeys. Recently I was crowned the Utah High School Rodeo Queen and first attendant at the National High School Rodeo Finals. Before my competition I asked my father for a priesthood blessing. It gave me the peace and comfort I needed to relax and be myself. My Young Women medallion is as important to me as any of my favorite buckles and crowns. Earning my medallion taught me to set goals and work hard to achieve them.
McKardy K., 15, Utah, USA

A short time ago, my world came to a drastic halt when my beloved friend became very ill. At first I just assumed it was just a very bad cold, and he would recover. But to my saddened heart, the news soon came to me that my dear companion was dying slowly of a rare sickness.
I am talking of my horse, which I rode in various competitions around the United States. We had the honor of riding to our first national champion title at the 2007 Canadian National Arabian horse show.
He was everything I could ever hope for as a faithful mount and friend. Now he was dying of liver and kidney failure. He taught me a lot through the nearly four years I had been graciously given to know and adore him.
I now know that this was all part of God’s plan and that this would be a trial for me to overcome in my life. I would have to lean on the principles I was taught in the scriptures, by prophets, and in Personal Progress, as my faith was tested. After many weeks of struggling, I realized I had forgotten to go first to the Lord for comfort.
I know that I am a daughter of a Heavenly Father who loves me and I love Him. I know that all the Personal Progress values reflect the Redeemer, even Christ himself. And as we strive to become perfect just like Him, we can go to those values and study them thoughtfully and prepare ourselves for any obstacles in our daily lives.
I hope that Young Women everywhere will learn of the unique importance of Personal Progress and work diligently to fulfill all of its requirements.

Elizabeth: That’s an exciting concept to me because of an experience I had last year. I was attending a college where I was the only Mormon. My roommate knew me both before and after I became active in the Church and had even investigated the Church once herself. During this time I was trying very hard to live the way I was supposed to, and so I stayed home a lot of times when my friends were out at parties, R-rated movies, etc. My roommate never said very much to me about the Church or the way I had changed my life, but when I left that school and came to BYU, I received a letter from her. She told me how much she had appreciated the example I had set and that she hadn’t realized the friend I had been to her because of it. But the best part of all is that she also decided to reinvestigate the Church.

GEELONG—Anthony George, 17, lives in this seaside town southwest of Melbourne. “I actually got my testimony from attending the temple,” he says. “Before I started going to the temple, I didn’t really have much of a testimony. I just went along with everyone.” Then, a few weeks before his third trip to the temple, Anthony’s Sunday School teacher told the class that everyone needs a testimony. “So I started thinking about that.”
At the Sydney Temple a few weeks later, Anthony was in the font. “I had already been baptized a few times, and they said the baptismal prayer and I was baptized again. I just had this really good feeling like the person was grateful for what I had done for him. I just felt that this was the right thing, and that going to church was the right thing.” Everything just came together “like a jigsaw puzzle the Spirit put together for me.”

The Hacienda Heights California Stake wanted an activity that would appeal to a large group of youth and would be a chance to activate both boys and girls. They chose to sponsor a bicycle motocross race.
A suitable location was found with a track consisting of jumps, sharp turns, and plenty of dirt. Under the direction of Rhett Smith, many young men spent two days getting the track prepared.
Eighty-nine youth showed up to race in age groups ranging from seven and under, eight to nine, ten to eleven, twelve to thirteen, and fourteen and over. Trophies were given in each category. Each rider had to race three times over the track during the course of the day, with those who came in first, second, and third places receiving points. Even though only the high-point winners took home the trophies, the event was termed a success because of the enthusiasm of the participants.

Karen Nielson was born in Aalborg, Denmark, in 1844. She was the daughter of a farm family. In her early years she was taught the skills of successful dairy farming at the knee of her father.
In 1861, Karen was baptized and was never able to return to her home because of her father’s opposition to her conversion. She left Denmark and immigrated to Utah with a group of Scandinavian Saints in 1862. She lived for a few years in Utah County where she married Benjamin Franklin Barney, and then they were called to settle the Sevier Valley.
Karen bore ten children and then was left a widow with several of her children still at home. She had no close family to return to, so she drew on the knowledge she had gained on the Danish farm. She improved the dairy herd using the breeding skills she’d learned from her father. Her herd was soon recognized as one of the finest in the area, and she was able to support her family and care for their needs. Until Karen was well into her eighties, she milked her cows night and morning and cared for her farm with the help of her sons and grandsons. Her legacy was one of hard work and the knowledge that our lives are only as good as we make them. She never turned away from hardships—they seemed only to strengthen her.