Gospel Story Finder

When Steve was fifteen, his nine-year-old brother, Brian, became his shadow. Like many younger brothers, Brian was curious about his older brother’s world and wanted to be a part of it. Steve resented having a tag-along. Teasing Brian, running away from him, and calling him names didn’t solve anything. Brian was too persistent.

Steve worked out this problem accidently. His family went on vacation. Lacking older companions, he was forced to spend time with just Brian, doing activities Brian could do. He taught him how to turn his mitt the right way when catching a ball, how to put a worm on a hook, how to break the water with his hands when diving. It was this type of participation Brian really wanted in the first place.

Back home, when Steve was busy, he could peacefully do things without Brian by promising to spend time with him later. Steve realized his little brother’s needs could not be changed; but he learned to adapt to and deal with them in a way that made both brothers happier. Brian, also, seemed to understand that there were things which Steve did that he could not yet do.

It is wrong to assume your brother already knows you love him so you don’t need to tell him. Let your love be shown by good deeds; however, let it also be expressed verbally. The most important thing Jenny learned was how to say, “David, I love you.” Even Steve, afraid of sounding “corny” at first, found that reminding Brian that he loved him made it easier to get along. “The more time I spent alone with him, the easier it was to say,” Brian says.

As a new bishop many years ago, I noticed a faithful sister who always attended church without her husband, John. I learned that he had previously been a branch president during the time their meetinghouse was being built. He received so little help from branch members that he burned himself out doing most of the work and became less active.
When ward members came to their home, he would light up his cigarette and set his beer can by his chair as if to say, “You won’t get me to come back.”
Eventually, I learned that John was an appliance repair man. Older members in the ward often called me to fix things. Now that I knew of John’s skills, I would call John and ask for advice on repairs.
I continued this for maybe a year. At that time, we needed to call a ward clerk. After prayerful consideration, I felt impressed to extend the call to John.
I told the stake president and he said, “We can’t call him now! He smokes and has his beer.” I asked the stake president to call him in for an interview anyway. John came to the interview but emphatically answered, “No, I am not worthy.”
Things continued as before—John remained less active, and I called him for advice. During this time, I didn’t say anything to him about coming back to church. I asked the stake president to interview him a second time. Again, John said no, but this time he added, “I will tell you when I’m ready.”
After this I still called John for advice and fellowshipped him the best I could.
One day I answered the phone and heard, “Is this the ol’ Bishop?” He had started calling me by that title. “This is John. I’m ready.” He was then called and served as our ward clerk.
As the years passed, John served in a number of callings. He and his wife served a mission together, and now they serve in the temple. At my 50th wedding anniversary party, John wrote a note that said, “Bishop, thank you for saving my life.”
I can’t put in words the joy I feel knowing that John returned to church in part because I was patient and asked him for help when I needed it.

Later, as I was about to graduate from the university, I fell in love with a beautiful young woman named Jeanene Watkins. I thought she was beginning to have some deep feelings for me also. One night when we were talking about the future, she carefully wove into the discussion a statement that changed my life forever. She said, “When I marry, it will be to a faithful returned missionary in the temple.”
I hadn’t thought much about a mission before then. That night my motivation to consider missionary service changed dramatically. I went home, and I could think of nothing else. I was awake all night long. I was completely distracted from my studies the next day. After many prayers I made the decision to meet with my bishop and begin my missionary application.
Jeanene never asked me to serve a mission for her. She loved me enough to share her conviction and then gave me the opportunity to work out the direction of my own life. We both served missions and later were sealed in the temple. Jeanene’s courage and commitment to her faith have made all the difference in our lives together. I am certain we would not have found the happiness we enjoy without her strong faith in the principle of serving the Lord first. She is a wonderful, righteous example!
Both Grandmother Whittle and Jeanene loved me enough to share their conviction that the ordinances of the gospel and serving Father in Heaven would bless my life. Neither of them coerced me or made me feel bad about the person I was. They simply loved me and loved Father in Heaven. Both knew He could do more with my life than I could on my own. Each courageously helped me in loving ways to find the path of greatest happiness.

Our story begins in 1987 when two elders, Paul Gooch and Garrett Black, were assigned to the Massachusetts Boston Mission. Since there had not been elders in Lowell for a number of years, they felt it was appropriate to seek special help from Heavenly Father on the missionary effort. At that time there were only two Cambodian families who were members of the Church in that area.

Elder Gooch’s journal entry of April 11, 1987, reads: “On this beautiful, clear, spring day, Elder Black and I went upon the top of Fort Hill overlooking the city. We asked that Lowell be blessed as a place of refuge for the Asian people where they could rest in peace and safety, where the Spirit could dwell amidst them in their homes.” Both elders felt inspired. The entry continues, “We asked that Lowell be blessed as a place where the Asians might come to know Jesus as their Savior.”
The elders’ first meeting with Chea was quite accidental. Looking for another family, they happened to knock on his door. Chea was the only family member who spoke English. In the course of their conversation, he told them that he loved Jesus, wanted to find a church, and made them promise to take him to church the next Sunday. Elder Gooch recalls, “I was very impressed with Chea. He was extremely mature and seemed like a 25-year-old in an 11-year-old body.” Chea’s parents told the elders that their son visited several Christian churches on his own, but “didn’t feel right in any of them.”
Chea’s maturity is no doubt a result of many of the things he has experienced in his young life. Like many Cambodians who have found refuge in the United States, Chea and his family are survivors. He was four and his sister Soph was ten when they escaped with their parents from Cambodia after suffering through long days of fear and hard work on a rice farm. The Touch family does not like to speak about the events in their past life. It is painful to recall the tortures and brutal slayings. Seven of their children died in Cambodia.
Chea and his remaining family were able to escape one night in 1979 after the Khmer Rouge was overthrown by the Vietnamese forces. They trekked through the mountains and made their way to the Kavidan refugee camp in Thailand.
They lived in the refugee camp until 1984, when relief organizations sponsored their relocation to the United States. They’ve been in Lowell, Massachusetts, since then. Chea now has two younger sisters: Lundi, who is six, and Dani, age four.
After hearing the discussions and attending sacrament meeting, Chea knew he had found what he was looking for. “The people are so nice. I feel I belong. As I learn the scriptures and read the Book of Mormon, I can feel Heavenly Father’s love for me.” Chea loves to sing and adds, “The music makes me very happy.” Although his parents have taken the missionary lessons, attend church often, and fully support Chea, they have not joined.
After his baptism, Chea and the elders became very good friends. “Almost every day Chea would hop over the back fence and climb the stairs to our apartment,” recalls Elder Gooch. “After fixing himself a piece of unbuttered toast, he would tell us about friends and relatives he wanted us to visit. Sometimes we had a hard time keeping up!”
With a twinkle in his eye, Chea recalls the first person he told the elders about. “Sothom Chea was in my class at school. At first I was afraid of him. I thought he didn’t like me. I asked him if he would like to meet my friends, Elder Black and Elder Gooch. When Sothom said yes I was surprised but very, very happy.” Chea accompanied the elders to all of Sothom’s discussions. He says, “I enjoyed translating the lessons. I learned so much. I could feel the Holy Spirit. Besides, it was fun.”
Old as well as young have benefited from Chea’s desire to share his newfound knowledge. His neighbor, Sophon Heng, a mother of four, and her elderly mother Hong Heng were baptized as a result of Chea’s efforts. Sophon recalls, “Chea was so kind to us. He asked us if we would like to meet two men who would teach us and make us happy. When we said yes, Chea and the elders came to our home each week and taught us the gospel.”
For Chea it is not a sacrifice but a real joy to share Heavenly Father’s message. “Each time I go with the elders I seem to learn something new. I enjoy learning about how to return to Heavenly Father—what I must do and what I must avoid.”
Irene Danjou, Chea’s former Primary president, beams as she remembers, “Each Sunday he would bring a different friend to church. He’d introduce them to me, spell their names, tell me their ages, and sit with them until they felt comfortable. Then he would go to his own class. He did this every week for a whole year!”
One example of Chea’s diligence and enthusiasm as a young missionary is recorded in Elder Gooch’s journal: “I was home for lunch, sitting on my hardwood rocking chair, trying to prepare a talk for zone conference. Somehow I just couldn’t get my thoughts gathered. The telephone rang. It was Chea. He told me that he wanted Elder Black and me to visit the Vongs, a Cambodian family that had been in Lowell for a year. They were praying and fasting to find a church they could attend.”
Saveth Vong and her three children, Chetena, Chendra, and Tola, had narrowly escaped execution. Her husband, a pilot in the Cambodian Army, had been captured. Saveth and her children managed to get out of prison three days before they were scheduled to be shot.
Chea smiles as he recalls his and the elder’s first visit to the Vong home. “Everyone seemed so eager to learn. There were many questions. The Spirit was very strong.” Although the Vongs used a Book of Mormon printed in Cambodian, they needed help with gospel principles. Chea played an important role, assisting the elders as he translated discussions and shared his own experiences in the Church. Elder Gooch’s journal entry continues, “Day after day, Chea sat quietly by Saveth helping her understand the things we taught. He never seemed to tire of the message of the gospel.”
Indeed, as Chea taught the gospel his testimony grew. He recalls, “I remember reading 3 Nephi 27:7: ‘Therefore, whatsoever ye shall do, ye shall do it in my name; therefore ye shall call the church in my name; and ye shall call upon the Father in my name that he will bless the church for my sake.’ [3 Ne. 27:7] I thought, how could it be that I’ve never seen this scripture before? It makes so much sense. Heavenly Father’s true church must be named after his Son!”
This scripture also confirmed for Chea what he knew in his heart was true—that if he prayed to Heavenly Father in the name of Jesus and asked for help to share the gospel message, Heavenly Father would bless his efforts.
When the Vongs made the decision to be baptized, Chea was delighted. Elder Gooch recalls that evening, “While we were driving home, Chea asked Elder Black and me to stop by a grove of trees in a nearby park so that we could thank Heavenly Father. We took turns giving thanks and expressing our joy. When we were finished, Chea climbed on my shoulders. After a few quiet moments Chea lovingly looked down, flashed his million dollar smile and said, “The Holy Ghost is with us, Gooch, isn’t it?”
“Yep, Chea, sure is.”
“I know—I felt it!”
The Vongs were baptized a week later.
Chea will be entering the sixth grade this fall. He loves to fish and play basketball and enjoys video games. Like other Cambodian youth in America, he plays an important role in helping his parents learn their new language and culture. The adults spend long hours working to make ends meet and don’t have much free time to learn English. The youth, on the other hand, pick up the language quickly and bring it home. Chea’s been particularly fortunate. Along with his regular public school classes, he’s in a special program at the Sylvan Learning Center in Chelmsford, Massachusetts. Director Joan O’Brien sees Chea as a unique child. “I think he’s a youngster who will be a real leader in the Cambodian culture. He’s like a pitcher that cannot be filled.”

“It is my own life story because it really is a portrayal of me. I faced the same problems in my life,” said Raymond Tracey, a young Navaho Latter-day Saint from Ganada, Arizona, and star of a new motion picture, Indian.
Tracey (most of his friends call him by his last name) portrays a young Navaho who lived on a reservation with his grandparents until he was old enough to be taken out of his Indian world and educated in the white man’s world. After high school his life is at a crossroads. He was born an Indian, has the blood and looks of an Indian, and yet doesn’t feel like an Indian.
He wonders whether he should stay in the world that he has become used to, or if he should go back to the reservation and try to become an Indian once again. He gets in his jeep and begins a journey to talk to other Indians before he can decide who he is and where he belongs. He works hard to discover what being Indian really means.
Tracey has a natural feel for the character in the film. He could understand many of his concerns and confusion because he left his own home and parents when he was ten to live with another family and attend school on the Church’s Indian placement program.
“I had some ideas about the two very different worlds of the main character in the film,” said Brother Kieth Merrill, producer-director of Indian. “As we shot footage of Tracey each day, new insights and feelings would keep presenting themselves. Finally we reached a point where it was hard to tell where the story line I was carrying around in my head stopped and the story of Tracey’s own life began. The plot of Tracey’s life was so strong and universal that it merged with the story line of the film.”
The film portrays specific experiences that differ from those that actually happened to Tracey, but most of the emotional conflicts and discoveries are identical to those he experienced while he was growing up.
Before the main character in the film leaves the reservation for school, his grandfather tells him, “Always remember, my son, that you are an Indian. Don’t forget it. Gain an education, but be proud of your Indian heritage at the same time.”
Tracey’s parents felt the same way about sending him on placement. “My parents always wanted the best for me,” he said. “I didn’t know we were poor when I was small, but now I know it. We lived in a one-room house with a dirt floor. I didn’t see my father very often because he would leave for work at five in the morning. He had to hitchhike into town and then go to work driving a logging truck all day. He came home at night after I was in bed.” His father did this summer and winter. Both parents hoped and planned and worked, and taught their children.
“They planted some important ideas deep inside our minds while we were very young.”
They taught Tracey and his brothers and sisters the gospel and English while they were small children. Tracey went to kindergarten speaking English when most of his friends spoke only Navaho. He also learned that he was special in the sight of his Father in heaven. It was easier for him to adjust to placement because of this background.
“The gospel has always been a force in my life. In addition I never had to think in Navaho and then translate it into English. I grew up thinking in English, and that is an asset. I was called on a mission to my people before I learned to speak Navaho and think the way Navahos think.”
Leaving home and family was hard for young Tracey, but he adjusted well.
“Once I got over seeing everyone as either a brown skin or a white skin, I really got a lot out of placement. I wasn’t treated as a foreigner. All my brothers and sisters and my new mom and dad made me welcome. But I was no guest to be pampered. I was a total part of the family. I had to take out the trash, wash dishes three times a week, and carry my own part of the responsibilities just like everyone else.”
Tracey’s participation in sports helped his natural shyness to fade and gave him confidence in all of his abilities. “Without confidence I would never have been able to perform in front of a camera and crew, with a hundred people on the set watching me,” he said.
His increasing knowledge of the gospel also gave him confidence.
“My foster parents taught me the value of a really good, stable family life. I grew up with good families. We had family prayer, family home evening, and we went to church together. These are all examples I hope to follow with my own family,” he said.
In the film Tracey travels across America talking to other Indians. He asks, “What is an Indian? What does he do? How does he think?” And, of course, each person he talks to gives a different answer. He met and talked to many interesting people. This is exciting to him because it has given him a chance to help accurately portray Lamanites and give them some identity and credit.
“They deserve a better image of themselves than what they have seen in the movies. I’ve grown up seeing my people portrayed only as scalping savages.
“While I was still living in Arizona, we would get to see movies in elementary school. There were a lot of cowboy, cavalry, and Indian films shown. Indians would invariably sweep around the bend and wipe out a whole wagon train. They were savages. Then the cavalry would dash after the Indians, and that whole theater of Indian kids would shout and cheer for the cavalry. No kid wants to identify with the bad guy, and yet we never saw a film where Indians were any good. I was always a cowboy when we played cowboys and Indians. Cowboys rode white horses, carried shiny guns, and always won. Indians weren’t smart enough to win,” Tracey said.
Yet deep inside himself Tracey knew he could win. His parents had taught him that winning depends on the individual. They had taught him that if you want to win, you can win. “Feeling inferior is terrible, and I felt it quite often during junior high school,” he said.
By the time he got into high school, however, Tracey knew he was breaking out of his inferiority feelings. He ran cross-country for the track team, and he was elected student body vice-president.
“By then I felt great,” he said. “I remembered the teachings of my own parents. I knew I had a Father in heaven who loved me and that in his eyes I was just as good as anyone else. I knew I would be judged on my own abilities and what I was able to do with them.
“Now, through the medium of film, I can help other Indians gain a realization of these same true principles.”
Tracey also feels that many of his childhood teachings would be beneficial for all men to know. When he was young, he learned to notice the order and balance of nature. “My father had me look at a bee, and he would say, ‘Look at that little stinger and how it comes out. It can be used for two things, good or bad. If you hurt him or threaten him, he will sting you with the stinger. But if you let him alone, he’ll use that stinger to gather pollen and nectar from the flowers. And he’ll take it back to his home and make honey out of it. You have the knowledge to destroy him or to use him for your own benefit. He is your brother.’”
Tracey learned to respect every living thing. The trees, the animals that lived in them, and even the land they grew on were respected as if they were his brothers and sisters. Years before he heard the word ecology he had learned to look at the full cycle of nature. He knew the Navahos built hogans (wooden framed mounds covered with dirt) because they didn’t want to add to nor detract from the landscape. They just wanted to fit in and be a part of the land.
“At first,” he said, “Navahos didn’t even want windows in the hogans because when you look at one from a distance it should blend right in to the landscape. When a hogan has a window, it causes reflections that look unnatural and it draws attention to itself, and this isn’t pleasing to a Navaho.”
Tracey also explained that many young Indians are taught to run and exercise because they believe if your body is physically fit then your mind works better and there will be no room for dark thunderclouds in it. These kinds of teachings are also part of the gospel and he hopes to be able to give them to his children.
“When my son is out in nature and he notices something beautiful, I want him to feel like I do about it. He will stop and look and appreciate and give thanks, and he’ll know it couldn’t have happened by chance. And wherever he walks, he will leave beauty behind him and see beauty before him.”
At the end of the film, Tracey, after traveling coast to coast, talking and probing his identity with other Indians, finally comes home. By this time his grandfather has died, and so he goes to the grave and reports.
“Grandfather, I’ve done what you wanted me to do. I’ve been to the white man’s school. I got my education, and yet I’ve never forgotten that I am an Indian with a heritage that I am proud of. I met a boxer who is an Indian. I met a journalist who is an Indian. I’ve met politicians who are Indians. I met all kinds of people who are Indians, and now I know what it is to be an Indian. Grandfather, what I want to be is myself. To be me. To be whatever I want to be. I want to take what you have planted in my heart and give it to someone else. I want to take my education and give it back to my people.”
Tracey lived these moments for the cameras. Yet to him it was more than acting because he had made the same discoveries once before.
“A time came,” he said, “when I didn’t think of myself as an Indian and my foster family as being white. We were all treated the same, and I just thought of myself as me. This was reinforced as my testimony became stronger. I began to realize that part of being me meant that I was also a son of God. I knew the Church was true during my first year of college. At the same time I wanted to go on a mission. I was really integrated. I was an Indian with a different cultural background, and I knew the technology of the white man. But I had also learned to communicate with my Father in heaven. I knew he loved me. He helped me discover that I am a son of God, and that is my true culture as it should be for all Latter-day Saints.
“It was easier then to say, ‘These white-man teachings fit here, those Indian teachings fit there.’ And I understood what I should throw away in both cultures because the gospel became the real living force in my life. It brought the two pads of my past together and gave my life true meaning.”
Since he finished Indian, Tracey has starred in another motion picture called Joe Panther, which tells the story of a young Seminole Indian seeking his place in modern society.
Although his acting career is just starting, Tracey is already receiving praise for his ability. He is also drawing attention to his way of life. Wherever he has worked, he has influenced other members of the casts and crews. On one occasion a cast member told him, “Everybody on this set is searching for what you already have.” A cast member of Joe Panther wouldn’t even drink coffee when Tracey was on the set. “I’ve taken up drinking orange juice because that is what you drink,” he said.
Ray Tracey and Caroline Wuneka, from Crystal, New Mexico, were married in the Salt Lake Temple just before filming began on Joe Panther. Since this film was shot in the Everglades, they enjoyed a nice Florida honeymoon.
Tracey hopes to do more acting in movies. However, he stressed, “I’m not going to do any movie that will discredit my race or my church, or in any way make people ashamed of me.” Tracey hopes he can be an example for other young people. He is working to accomplish the tasks spelled out for him in his patriarchal blessing.
“I hope to be an instrument in the hands of the Lord to bring the gospel to many of my people. I hope I can be worthy to do this, and right now it seems that part of the answer lies with the media. That is one way I can reach many of them,” he said.
Like the characters in his films, Tracey displays courage, perseverance, and sensitivity. He knows that life gives you an opportunity to overcome difficulties, and that by doing this you get stronger. Most of all, he knows that the gospel gives direction and meaning to everyone who will embrace it.

My mother and my friend’s mother take turns driving us to school. One morning, my friend’s mother began asking questions about my religion and about our beliefs about the afterlife. I was surprised that she asked me, and I was a little scared because I hadn’t learned a lot about it.
As I began to talk, I remembered a seminary poster that was on the wall in my Primary room at church. It was about the veil between premortal life, mortality, and the spirit world. I told everything I could remember about the plan of salvation. My friend’s mother was impressed at the things I knew about my religion. I am grateful that the Lord gives me missionary moments.

“Please, Mom, can we invite Sister Fuhriman just one more time?” Greg pleaded. His younger brothers’ anxious faces poked out from behind Greg like pegs on a coat rack.
“It will be Christmas Eve, and she shouldn’t be alone,” Layne said. Scott and Jim nodded.
“You know how many times we have tried to invite Sister Fuhriman to our house,” Mom said. “She rarely goes out. But you may invite her for Christmas Eve if you like.”
The boys cheered and bounded outside.
Soon the door burst open again. “It’s a miracle, Mom!” Greg called. “She said she’d love to come. Isn’t that great?”
The next day snow started falling. Greg knew that Sister Fuhriman avoided going outside in bad weather, even to the mailbox. “Do you think she will still come tomorrow?” Greg asked. Mom wasn’t sure.
On Christmas Eve, Aunt Carolyn and her three children arrived just as Layne finished cleaning up the kitchen after dinner. “Can we go get Sister Fuhriman now?” Layne asked.
“All right,” Dad said. “Remember to help her as she walks across the road. It’s slick outside.”
“We will, Dad,” Scott said.
“And if she decides not to come after all, don’t make her feel bad about not coming,” Dad said.
“We won’t, Dad,” Greg said. The boys stepped outside into the snow-covered landscape. The snow had stopped falling, and there was still a little daylight to show them the way.
Eight-year-old Adam was helping Bekah and Jill get into their costumes for the family Christmas pageant when the boys stepped through the door—helping Sister Fuhriman inside! She smiled cheerily, her cheeks bright from the cold. The family tried not to seem so surprised that their guest of honor had really come.
Dad made Sister Fuhriman feel welcome and helped her choose a seat next to Mom. Greg slipped out of his coat and sat at the piano. After an opening prayer, he began to play Christmas hymns softly. Scott read from the Bible as the younger children acted out the story of the first Christmas. Wearing a bathrobe, three-year-old Bekah reverently played the part of Mary while Dan pretended to be Joseph. Jill played the part of an angel with a gold garland pinned in her hair. Cousins played shepherds and Wise Men, all come to worship the infant King.
Soon the strains of “Silent Night” faded, and the reverence of the sacred story gave way to hugs, smiles, and compliments all around. To finish off the night, they enjoyed Mom’s warm cinnamon rolls. All too soon, the evening was over.
The boys again put on their coats, hats, and mittens to escort Sister Fuhriman across the road. The glow of the porch light pushed away the darkness, making their walk across the snow-packed country road pleasant in spite of the cold.
“Good night, Sister Fuhriman,” Greg called as he and his brothers turned back toward their house.
“Merry Christmas,” Sister Fuhriman called. “And thank you.”
Greg glanced over his shoulder just before he stepped back into his house. Sister Fuhriman was still on her porch, watching. She waved.

Over spring break, I got to talk with my sister who is serving her mission in the Idaho Idaho Falls Mission. I told her that track was about to start and how excited I was. I told her how badly I wanted to beat the school record for the 1600-meter and 800-meter races.
“I probably won’t be able to. The record time is pretty fast,” I told my sister. The school record did seem impossible. I started thinking about the one girl I had never been able to beat. Maybe trying to keep up with her or even beating her would be a better goal.
My sister did not answer right away, but she seemed to be smiling through the phone. “I know I’m a missionary,” she said. “So you might expect me to give you some kind of a challenge, but I really want you to try something. I want you to try to read your scriptures and pray every day. And if you do, God will bless you to do your best.”
“I’ll try,” I said. I had not really been reading my scriptures every night, and I wasn’t quite sure if, or how, reading would help me run.
The next few nights I read, prayed, and went to bed without really thinking about it. One night as I was brushing my teeth, I thought, “I’m not really getting anything out of reading the scriptures.” Then I remembered President Russell M. Nelson’s invitation to read the whole Book of Mormon and mark all references to Jesus Christ (see “Sisters’ Participation in the Gathering of Israel,” Oct. 2018 general conference [Ensign or Liahona, Nov. 2018, 69–70]). So I started to mark the references to Christ as I read. I began to get more out of reading and to truly ponder the scriptures.
After 15 consecutive days of reading and praying every night, I had my first track meet. And I was super nervous. My first race was the 4x800-meter run. I was the anchor runner. When I started running the last leg, my team was in 7th place out of 10 teams. We finished in 3rd place. Had I gotten faster?
While I was waiting for the mile, I watched all the other races and prayed that I would do well. When we walked to the starting line, my heart was beating so fast I thought it would jump out of my chest. I prayed again and felt peace. We were all lined up, and I had a flashback from all the mile races I had run in the year before. I would be in first place the whole race, unsure if my pace was fast enough to beat the record. Then on the final stretch, I would get discouraged when a certain girl from another school would sprint ahead of me and take first place. So I decided to try to do that myself this time.
As the gun went off, I went straight behind the girl from the year before. We were in first and second place. My coach was at the 200-meter mark, and she told me my time and encouraged me. I wanted to run up ahead, but I knew that she would pass me on the last stretch if I did. She kept looking back at me like she was afraid of me.
On the last lap, I could hear the girl who was in third place trying to pass both of us. So I bolted. I ran as fast as I could. There were so many people cheering—my parents, teammates, and friends’ parents.
When I passed the finish line, the first thing that came to my mind was, “Did I do it?” Then I turned and saw everyone else finish. Then I looked toward the girl I hadn’t been able to beat before. Her eyes were big when she said, “Man, you got so much faster.” I had won!
I was so happy. I couldn’t believe I had actually done it! Then I realized that I hadn’t done it alone. I said a quick prayer to thank Heavenly Father. Taking my sister’s challenge helped me to be better at studying the scriptures. And I had a better relationship with Heavenly Father. I had also been able to get faster and smarter about my running. Heavenly Father listens to our prayers. And if we do our part and have faith, He will answer them.
The author lives in Missouri, USA.

I was reared in the Philippines by strict but loving grandparents. My grandfather’s favorite phrase was, “It’s for your own good.” He used it whenever I acted stubborn or failed to finish a chore. He always said that the things he asked of me would help me become better prepared when I grew up. Although I didn’t fully comprehend his words, young as I was, I obeyed—if for no other reason than to avoid further sermons.
My grandparents were religious people. By the time I was five, I knew there was a loving God who blessed us as we obeyed His commandments. Going to church on Sundays was a must, and singing hymns, reading Bible stories, and praying were part of our daily routine. I felt temporally and spiritually blessed. We were happy and content.
Then events came into my life that shattered my peace like the sudden blow of unpredicted bad weather. My grandparents died unexpectedly one Christmas season when I was a teenager. The sorrow I felt seemed to ruin forever the joys and anticipation of Christmas. A couple of months later, my parents’ home burned down. A year later, my mother was in a car accident that left her an invalid. Then my father lost his job.
Tribulations beset me like a storm. With little money, I lost hope of earning a college degree. The demands of household chores drained me of energy.
Confused and battered emotionally and spiritually, I began to doubt God’s existence. I began to ask why He had allowed such adversity to come into my life when I had always tried to obey Him. The whys continued to bother me, and with no answers, I slowly drifted away from the church I was attending at the time. For years I searched other religions for answers and relief, but nothing satisfied me.
One bright summer afternoon, a close friend invited me to meet the Latter-day Saint missionaries. They impressed me with their polite greeting and neat appearance, and I was curious about their name tags, which bore the name of Jesus Christ. Somewhere inside my soul, a soft but clear voice seemed to whisper, Hear their message; it’s for your own good. The familiar phrase echoed in my mind.
As I listened to the discussions, my faith in God’s existence was gradually restored, and I accepted the gospel of Jesus Christ. Following my baptism, I found that my lifelong questions had answers. I read in Doctrine and Covenants 122:5–7 the Lord’s words to the Prophet Joseph Smith: “If thou art called to pass through tribulation … all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good.” I have come to realize that great blessings did come from my trials, for they led me to the true fold of God.
Looking back on my experiences, I realize they truly were for my good—just as Grandfather had said.

Josh patted his stomach, feeling more than a little full.
“That was so good,” he said, smiling at Mom and Dad.
“Are you done already?” Mom asked. “You must have been really hungry.”
“I was,” Josh said. He eyed the indoor playground in the restaurant where they were eating. “Can I go play now?”
Dad nodded. “Go ahead.”
Josh jumped up from the table, cleared away his trash, and headed to the playground. He knew it wouldn’t be long before his little brother and sister came to join him.
He had just finished climbing to the top of what he imagined to be a giant mountain where he was about to battle a dragon when he heard a voice chirp from far below.
“Joshy?”
That was his sister Anna’s nickname for him. She was almost four. He loved her a lot.
“Just a minute, Anna,” Josh called out as he raced for the twisty slide. In a flash he was down at the bottom, ready to help his sister climb. About halfway up, his younger brother, Brian, joined them. The three of them started off on a grand adventure with dragons and knights and princesses. Anna was the princess, of course. Josh wanted to be the knight, and Brian was happy to be a growly dragon.
It wasn’t long before their imaginary world was interrupted by a group of children coming in to play. Josh didn’t mind. He liked making new friends. After a few minutes, though, he began to wonder if playing with them was a good idea. The kids were nice, but they kept swearing.
Josh had been baptized a year ago, and he had been trying hard to choose the right. Mom and Dad had been talking a lot about choosing which words to use. They had taught him that Heavenly Father didn’t like swearing, mean words, or name-calling.
Josh really wanted to stay and play, but he didn’t like listening to bad words. Maybe the other kids would stop if he asked. Josh turned to the group. “Could you please not swear?” he asked quietly.
“Whatever,” one of the boys said. None of the kids stopped swearing. Josh said a quick prayer asking what to do. Into his mind popped an image of himself dressed in knight’s armor, fighting a dragon. Behind him were his brother and sister. All of a sudden, Josh knew it was more important to protect his little brother and sister from hearing the swearing than to keep playing.
“Come on, guys,” Josh said. “Let’s go see Mom and Dad.”
The three of them went down the slide and ran to their family.
“What are you doing back so soon?” Dad asked, ruffling Josh’s hair.
Josh shrugged. “Some kids in there were swearing,” he said. “I didn’t want Anna and Brian to hear it.”
Dad patted him on the shoulder. “I’m proud of you for watching out for your little brother and sister.”
Josh smiled. It was almost like he really was a knight watching over those he loved while fighting a dragon. Josh also knew he’d done more than protect his brother and sister—he had also protected himself.

Third, and this is so significant: listen. In particular, President Packer encourages us to listen to those who are experienced: “I learned early on that there is great value in listening to experience in older people. … I remember in the Quorum of the Twelve, LeGrand Richards didn’t walk as fast as the other Brethren, and I would always wait and open the door for him and walk back to the building with him. One day one of the Brethren said, ‘Oh, you’re so kind to take care of Brother Richards.’ And I thought, ‘You don’t know my selfish motive’—as we would walk back, I would just listen to him. I knew that he could remember Wilford Woodruff, and he would speak.”3

As a child, Isaiah John attended the Pentecostal church with his mother. At a certain point, he went to live with his brother in Monrovia. He continued attending the Pentecostal church after his move. One day he met a missionary who asked him about his beliefs and then asked him if he would be willing to visit The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Isaiah agreed. Right away he noticed a difference that he liked and that felt good. Isaiah began taking the lessons and prayed about what he should do. He wanted to do the right thing. He was baptized in October 2018. Isaiah was so happy to be baptized and confirmed. He was grateful for the gift of the Holy Ghost.
His mother came to visit and asked Isaiah if he was still going to church. He said “Yes, but not to the Pentecostal church”.
Isaiah said he will never forget what she said to him: “Brother Isaiah, do you know that the Church you are going to is a perfect church that has embraced the gospel of Jesus?”
He replied, “Yes, mom, I love the Church” and he explained that at church they talk about Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, the Holy Ghost, and they teach how to live. Before she died in 2022, she told him to continue attending his church if he knew it was true, which made him very happy.

After my wife joined me in Utah, we went to California to visit her family, and it was there that I received an unexpected call from Elder Ian S. Ardern, Pacific Area President. He asked when I was returning to Fiji then said he urgently needed to meet with me. I told him I was returning to Utah the following week, so President Ardern said he would contact me then.
I did not sleep well after that call. My mind was troubled. My whole attitude for the remaining days of my holiday changed.
It was Elder Carl B. Cook of the Presidency of the Seventy who contacted me next, and my wife and I drove to Church headquarters to meet with him. What a humbling experience it was to be called to serve as an Area Seventy. While I had never turned down a calling in my 42 years of Church membership, this was different. I was overwhelmed with feelings of inadequacy; I felt unprepared. I wept openly in the presence of my wife and Elder Cook. Was this really happening?
All my life I had looked up to the General Authorities and the General Officers of the Church—they were elected by God and were revered throughout the Church. All my callings up till then had been local. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined holding an Area ecclesiastical calling.
I struggled to accept what was asked of me, but doubt in my ability to fulfil this calling began to subside and instead, I was overcome by gratitude for my Savior, for His love and tender mercies. I felt a righteous determination to serve the Lord in this capacity. This was an opportunity for me to demonstrate my love for Him and for His Church. The scripture that came to my mind with great force was Doctrine and Covenants 82:3, “For of him unto whom much is given much is required.”
I was sustained during the April 2020 general conference, which was the first ever virtual conference held by the Church. My training as a new Area Seventy was also held virtually as the COVID-19 pandemic was at its peak. My first year in the calling was truly miraculous; the support I received from the Pacific Area Presidency, my fellow Area Seventies, and visiting General Authorities was amazing. Traveling to stake conferences and attending general conferences in person were highlights of this time, filled with wonderful learning and growing experiences.
However, deep inside, I still struggled, especially in my moments of personal reflection. I still felt insecure and inadequate in my service as an Area Seventy.
It was not until the last session of the General Authority, Area Seventy and General Officers Leadership Training, during the April 2021 general conference, that I finally received the spiritual witness I had been seeking since my call. I will never forget that moment.
This session’s agenda was for all 15 apostles and prophets to bear their testimonies and witness of Jesus Christ. The solemnity and sacredness of this occasion is glorious. It was Elder Neil L. Andersen’s testimony that changed my perspective and gave me the reassurance that I was searching for.
Elder Andersen explained how he felt when he was called to The Quorum of The Twelve Apostles. He said when he first sat in the seat that Elder Ulisses Soares now occupies, he looked up the row at the other 11 Apostles and the First Presidency, and feelings of personal inadequacy overwhelmed him. When I heard Elder Andersen say that, I sat up straight in my chair because I knew that what he had just said—and what he was going to say next—was specifically for me.
Elder Andersen said he struggled with this issue for a while and then it came: He heard the voice of the Lord say, “Neil, you did not put yourself there. I did, because I love you, and I know you can change, and I know you can help with my work.”
When Elder Andersen shared that sacred experience, it became sacred to me also. It was the confirmation that I needed.
I know that Heavenly Father and His Son did not call me because of anything I had done to qualify for this role, but it was because They love me. They know I can change, and They know I can help Them in Their glorious work: to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of all Their children. (See Moses 1:39.)

Christian’s greatest happiness comes from “having a family that loves me.” His parents consider him a true gift from God. Before he was born, his mother, Luci, became ill and had to spend six months in bed to save Christian’s life. He was greatly loved even before his birth. Christian likewise feels great love for his parents and his two sisters, Itzel Lucia (8) and Mildred (4), of whom he is very protective.

I am interested in free throw records because I believe I also set a free throw record in high school—unrecorded, but a record that I believe would stand even today. It was in a game between my alma mater, Preston High, and Malad High in Idaho. It was played in the old Malad High School gymnasium in 1954.
Early in the game I was fouled in the act of shooting and was awarded two foul shots. I calmly stepped to the free throw line, set my toe about one-eighth of an inch from the line, and did my best imitation of my then basketball idol, Bob Cousy, by bouncing the ball twice, spinning it in my hands, taking a deep breath, and shooting. It was a pretty good imitation—until I released the ball. I missed both shots.
A few moments later I was again at the foul line going through the same established routine. To my despair I missed again—twice. As fortune would have it, we were into the game only six or seven minutes, and I was at the line missing my sixth and seventh foul shots. As I approached my ninth and tenth shots, I noticed that the basket, which was regulation size at the beginning of the game, was in some magical way beginning to shrink. Each time I came to the line, it got smaller and smaller.
My confidence wasn’t bolstered much as I saw images of distress in the faces of my teammates and expressions of calm glee and a twinkle in the eyes of my opponents each time I came to the line. By my fifteenth miss, my arms and legs were frozen stiff, and I could see the basket getting so small that even a softball couldn’t pass through it. When I approached the line to miss my eighteenth consecutive free throw, the basket seemed about the size of a golf hole, and I knew that even Bob Cousy would not stand a chance. I was not shooting with much confidence.
Thankfully, the final buzzer sounded and my record ceased at eighteen consecutive misses—a record not easily achievable and one I doubt any of you sports enthusiasts have ever witnessed. As I left the court, my confidence was devastated, and ahead of me remained the frightening task of getting ready to face the foul line again in upcoming games. My challenge was not so much related to foul shooting as it was to confidence.

I had a feeling. I asked my father to say a prayer that a tornado would not hit our house. He said, “Don’t worry—tornados never come to this area.”
I kept asking him, and finally, with my mother, we prayed and asked Heavenly Father to make sure that a tornado would not hit our house.
Two days later, while we were at church, a tornado touched down very close to our house. After church, we drove by my school and saw trees had been torn down. Heavenly Father heard our prayer. I am grateful for prayer.
Caitlin Kingi, age 5Berkeley Heights, New Jersey

Another valuable lesson I learned as a new member was the value of the promise in D&C 82:10. “I the Lord am bound when ye do what I say; but when ye do not what I say, ye have no promise.”
I was studying by correspondence at the time and my wonderful, diligent missionaries taught me this principle and promised me that if I didn’t study on Sundays, I would be entitled to call upon the Lord for His help with my exams with confidence that He would help me. I thought that was a more than fair deal.
As I sat in the exam hall for a 4-hour accounting paper, I started reading the exam paper with horror! I had to answer five of the six questions. The first question was incomplete with essential information missing, so I no longer had a choice, I had to answer the other 5. All went well until I realised the last question was on an aspect not covered in my notes. I prayed and started writing an answer.
When I got home afterwards and re-looked at the paper, I realised that the first question was not missing information; it was simplified and had I read it properly, I would definitely have received an A for the exam. At the same time, the answer to the question for which I hadn’t studied had flowed so easily—but I had no way of checking to see if my thinking had been correct.
The result? I received an A+ for the paper, which meant the misunderstood question and my answer had to have been correct. But the REAL result? A strengthened testimony that is unwavering. I learned that the Lord truly keeps His promise if we do our part.

Amaru Anderson, 16, often reads the scriptures with her 8-year-old brother, Sebastian. She also takes time to answer his questions, and prays with him regularly.

“We’ve been reading Joseph Smith—History once or twice a week,” she says. “It’s mind-blowing how many questions he has at eight years old, and I love answering them. I feel like I know him so much better.”

For example, one time Sebastian asked Amaru: “How do you think Joseph Smith kept going if all these people were doing all these bad things to him and to his family? All those things were going wrong, and if he was so good, why were so many bad things happening to him?”

“It really touched me,” she says. “I know that adversity strengthens you, but here’s a little boy asking me this hard question. We always read before he goes to bed, and I stay up a little later to get ready for the next day. I thought about our conversation and realized that I understood more about adversity from answering his questions.”

Our journey to the temple started by sacrificing a lot of things. We knew that the Church was going to pay for many of our expenses, but we still needed to come up with money to pay for our visas, and for food, housing, and garments.
To raise all these funds, we had to sell our wedding rings and some other gold pieces that we had. It did not yield much money, maybe about almost $500 Eastern Caribbean Dollars. That still wasn’t sufficient. We still didn’t have enough money. A missionary couple gave us $400 US that covered the cost of our lodging on the temple grounds and our visas. The $500 EC had to be changed to US dollars for us to change to pesos to buy food when we arrived in Santo Domingo.
So, with that money, we were on our way to the temple. We spent the night in Trinidad and woke up at 4 a.m. to catch our next flight to Panama. While on the plane we met a missionary named Sister Poulson. She was going to Santo Domingo, so we talked for a short while. In Panama, we had a delay of about four hours before our flight to the Dominican Republic. While there we were very hungry because we had no money to buy anything to eat. So, we walked around trying to pass the time. While doing that, we bumped into Sister Poulson again. We talked for some time because we were going on the same flight. She was on her way to get something to eat and asked if we had already eaten, so we explained about our trip and also our finances, and without us knowing she bought food for the four of us. We were so very grateful. When the time came, we boarded the plane and left for Santo Domingo. When we arrived and finally exited the airport, Sister Poulson was gone.
Outside of the airport, a man was waiting with our names and a taxi to take us to the temple where we were going to stay. Before we got there, we stopped by a supermarket to buy some groceries. The following day, my husband received his own endowment, and we did a few more sessions, spending the day at the temple. Then the big day arrived for our family sealing. Everyone there had heard about us and knew what we were there for. On that day we had the temple to ourselves. We got ready, and when we arrived, some missionary couples were there to assist us. When we got to the sealing room, everything was prepared; we were sealed first, and then our two daughters were sealed to us. It was the most wonderful thing, the way that we felt is unexplainable. There was not a dry eye in the room. All the missionaries who were there and the sister who had fed us at the airport was there, and they were all in tears. The Spirit was so strong and was felt by everyone in the room.
Our Heavenly Father was waiting for that day and had a lot planned for us. We had the most memorable spiritual day. The next few days were filled with temple work. We were able to do work for the dead, for our own family, and for others who had been waiting for a long time.
One very memorable day we were in the temple doing some work for the dead, and I was exhausted, because we had been there for the whole day. When I got up to leave, one of the temple workers asked me to do just one more, so I agreed and finally finished. When I got outside the most amazing thing happened, when I got to my husband, who was already outside waiting for me, fireworks started going off. We both stood there and watched with everyone else who said that they never had that happen. I took that as a sign to mean that our Heavenly Father and those waiting were very happy and pleased with the work we had just done.
We were so grateful for all the people God sent to feed us, to help us, and to just overall take care of us. Thank you to all of you, but most of all thanks to God.

The stranger had a bushy beard as red as his hair. It was Christmas Eve when he knocked on the door, asking for food. We had not been outside all day. For weeks it had snowed almost every day, soft fluffy feathers that were fun to play in. Now the snow was up to the top of the fence and piled in high drifts, and the wind howled and sang around the corners of the house and under the eaves. Papa said it was a blizzard.
Mama had spent the day making the special food we had only at Christmas, and for days before that, she’d baked bread of all kinds, Christmas bread frosted with white icing, filled bird-shaped rolls, and cookies by the dozen. We had no gaily trimmed tree or other holiday decorations at our house, nor presents waiting to be opened. But the spirit of Christmas was in the air.
Besides Mama and Papa, there were four of us children. We were on our best behavior at this time of year. There was no arguing about toys or books or crayons—who could be grumpy or cross at Christmastime? All that day we watched Mama at the stove, our mouths watering as she fixed Christmas dinner. Christmas Eve was our big feast; there would be no cooking on Christmas Day. That was OK—the cupboard was filled with good things to eat already made.
Best of all was the candy. Instead of only one or two pieces, we could have almost as much as we wanted. There were hard candy that you could suck on for a long time, sweet raspberry-filled candy, candy canes, and homemade chocolate-covered nuts and raisins. In the evening we cracked nuts while sitting by the glowing red heater as the wind howled and slapped snow against the windows.
Grandma and Grandpa were across the ocean in Poland, so there was just the family at Christmas. When the knock sounded on the door as Mama was putting the food on the table, it was a big surprise. Who could be out in such weather on Christmas Eve?
The redheaded stranger stood at the door, and we hid behind Mama’s skirts. He had tattered clothes, and his hands and face were red with cold. Papa asked him to come in quickly and shut the door so as not to let in the cold. The stranger’s coat was covered with snow, and bits of snow clung to his beard.
It was easy to see that he was hungry. Papa told him that we were just getting ready to sit down to eat dinner and that he was welcome to join us. Mama pushed the chairs closer together to make room for him. The stranger’s eyes were watery, like he was crying.
Papa said the blessing, and Mama passed the bowls of soup. We were extra quiet during dinner. Only Papa and the stranger talked, but not very much. The redheaded stranger was busy eating and hardly looked up from his plate.
As I watched him, I wondered why he was out in a blizzard. Didn’t he have a family or a warm house? He didn’t live here, I knew. We lived in a very small town, and everybody knew everyone else, and this fellow was a stranger, for sure.
Papa said we were having a depression. We didn’t understand much about it except that many people had no food and no job. Men wandered from town to town, looking for work, and many passed by our house. We lived between the railroad tracks and the highway, and in the summer we saw them walking by on the road. Some came asking for food, and Mama always gave them something, even if it was only a piece of bread and jelly. She made the best bread in the world, and the jam was from the chokecherries we picked in the summer. They were bitter to eat, but Mama made jelly from the berries, and on pancakes it was better than syrup.
Although he scared me with his red hair and beard, I felt sorry for the stranger. So did we all. Just looking at him made me want to cry. Mama always said we mustn’t stare at people, and I tried not to. It was hard to do.
Our Christmas Eve dinner was splendid, the best food I could think of. After the soup came the boiled wheat—red Durham, grown on the prairie farms around us. It was my favorite part of the dinner, but we could have only one small bowlful. Papa said it would grow inside us if we ate too much. I was pretty sure he was teasing, but I didn’t ask for more, just in case.
Then we had fish—a whole one Mama had baked with stuffing inside. It took a long time to eat because we had to be very careful not to swallow any bones. Next we had stuffed cabbage rolls and small boiled dumplings filled with mashed potatoes. And we had pickles and beets, which had been preserved right from Mama’s garden. For dessert there was Christmas bread as sweet and light as cake.
After dinner, while the redheaded stranger talked with Papa by the stove, we children helped Mama clear the table. I asked Mama where the stranger would go. I knew that he couldn’t stay here overnight. We had a very small house, and when we slept, every corner of it was full. Mama looked at me sadly and said she didn’t know.
I finished helping with the dishes and was going over to sit close to Papa, when the redheaded stranger got up to leave. Papa gave him a pair of mittens for his hands. The stranger said, “Thank you. God bless you. God bless all of you.” I think his eyes showed even more than his words how he felt. Then he left.
I was glad to see that the storm had let up. Only a few snowflakes continued to gently fall. I tried to see where he went, but the windows were covered with frost and I couldn’t. “Where will he go?” I asked Papa.
“He has a cousin who lives on a farm on the far side of the next town. He hopes his cousin will let him stay and work on the farm until times are better.” I hoped so too.
The next day, Christmas Day, was Sunday. The storm was over, and the sun was shining so bright that it hurt your eyes. The snow sparkled like diamonds and crunched under our feet as we walked to church. Looking at the Baby Jesus in the manger in the foyer, I whispered, “Happy Birthday, Jesus.” Then I prayed, “Heavenly Father, thank Thee for a wonderful dinner last night. Please help the redheaded stranger find his cousin and have a good home there. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”