Gospel Story Finder

Visiting teaching is also a very effective tool in retention and reactivation efforts. A young single adult sister shared the following:
“While reading the First Presidency Message from the Ensign, I was reminded of my visiting teaching assignment. My companion was a good friend of mine, but we always seemed to have conflicting schedules. That morning I decided to just make the calls to our sisters, schedule a time, and hope that it would work with my companion’s schedule. Unfortunately, my companion was unable to make it. I asked a couple of my roommates to join me for those visits, but no one was available. Knowing that doing my visiting teaching alone wasn’t ideal, I thought about calling to cancel but decided it was better to make visits by myself than let another month slip by without visiting our sisters.
“I arrived at Alejandra’s home and nervously approached her door, not knowing if I would recognize her. She had been very friendly on the phone, so I imagined it was a sister I had seen at church. Alejandra greeted me with a warm hug and a big smile. It was a new face! During our conversation, Alejandra shared her desire to start going to church again and said she had been hoping for some kind of visit for the past few months. She stated that this was the first time she had ever received a visiting teacher. We talked about some gospel principles and shared our impressions of that month’s Visiting Teaching Message. She committed to going to church that week. Sure enough, she did (she even brought her boyfriend)!
“Since then, Alejandra and I have become good friends. I am no longer her visiting teacher, but we visit much more than once a month. Alejandra attends church and family home evening regularly and is attending institute.
“I now have a stronger testimony of visiting teaching than ever before. I am grateful for the guidance of the Holy Ghost and His subtle prompting that would lead me to such a kind and loving friend like Alejandra. We were equally strengthened from this experience, and we both needed it for our spiritual progression.”

As you pray to Heavenly Father in faith, “he will console you in your afflictions, … [and ye may] feast upon his love.”9 President Henry B. Eyring shared that his father’s prayers during a losing battle with cancer taught him the deeply personal relationship between God and His children:
“When the pain became intense, we found him in the morning on his knees by the bed. He had been too weak to get back into bed. He told us he had been praying to ask his Heavenly Father why he had to suffer so much when he had always tried to be good. He said a kindly answer came: ‘God needs brave sons.’
“And so he soldiered on to the end, trusting that God loved him, listened to him, and would lift him up. He was blessed to have known early and to never forget that a loving God is as close as a prayer.”10

Not long ago I listened at length to a couple who sat across the desk from me. There was bitterness between them. I know that at one time their love was deep and true. But each had developed a habit of speaking of the faults of the other. Unwilling to forgive the kind of mistakes we all make, and unwilling to forget them and live above them with forbearance, they had carped at one another until the love they once knew had been smothered. It had turned to ashes with the decree of a so-called no fault divorce. Now there is only loneliness and recrimination. I am satisfied that had there been even a small measure of repentance and forgiveness, they would still be together, enjoying the companionship that had so richly blessed their earlier years.

The first challenge is to be fully committed. It is so easy to drift through life understanding what is important but only having a loose grasp on the iron rod. This is the “eat, drink, and be merry” syndrome. This is a satanic trap. In contrast, consider the commitment of a young marine in Vietnam in 1969 during the war. Elder Gordon B. Hinckley, then a member of the Twelve, visited Southeast Asia, where he met and interviewed a large number of LDS servicemen. He recalled:

[There I met] a handsome boy, tall, clean-faced, wholesome in his look. I said . . . , “What are you going to do when you go home? Have you ever thought of it?” . . .

. . . “Have I ever thought of it? I think of little else, sir. We’re moving north again tomorrow, and if I can last another two months I know exactly what I’m going to do when I go home. I’m going to do three things. First, I’m going back to school and finish my education. . . .

“I’m also going to work in the Church and try to do some good. I’ve seen how desperately the world needs what the Church has to offer.

“And then I’m going to find me a beautiful girl and marry her forever.”

Elder Hinckley countered with a question:

“Are you worthy of that kind of a girl?”

“I hope so, sir,” he said. “It hasn’t been easy to walk through this filth. It’s been pretty lonely at times. But you know, I couldn’t let my folks down. I know what my mother expects. I know what she’s saying in her prayers. She’d rather have me come home dead than unclean.” . . .

I don’t know whether he lived or died. . . . We met and talked with so many and our schedule was so heavy that I do not recall his name or where he was from, but I have not forgotten him. [TGBH, 710]

Brothers and sisters, the last days are not a time for casual commitments. The Lord needs young people firm in the faith to light the way. There are many in the world who would like what you have if they only knew where to find it. Don’t miss the incredible opportunity to grasp the rod tightly and build a firm foundation that will bring happiness now and forever. The most important time in your life is now. Be fully committed.

When Wilford Woodruff first met the Prophet in April 1834 at Kirtland, he wrote:
I saw him out in the field with his brother Hyrum: he had on a very old hat. . . . I was introduced to him, and he invited me home with him.
I accepted the invitation, and I watched him pretty closely, to see what I could learn. He remarked, while passing to his house, that this was the first hour he had spent in recreation for a long time.
Shortly after we arrived at his house, he went into an adjoining room, and brought out a wolf-skin, and said, “Brother Woodruff, I want you to help me to tan this.” So I pulled off my coat, went to work and helped him, and felt honoured in so doing. He was about going up with the brethren to redeem Zion, and he wanted this wolf-skin to put upon his waggon seat, as he had no buffalo robe. . . . Well, we tanned it, and used it. . . . This was my first introduction to the Prophet Joseph Smith. . . . I rejoiced to behold his face and to hear his voice. I was fully satisfied that Joseph was a Prophet. [Journal of Discourses, 7:101; also Millennial Star 53 (1891): 627–28]).

Brother Woodruff had reason later on to expand that first impression. After long association with the Prophet, he wrote: “I have felt to rejoice exceedingly in what I saw of brother Joseph, for in his public and private career he carried with him the Spirit of the Almighty, and he manifested a greatness of soul which I had never seen in any other man” (Journal of Discourses, 7:101).

It was at the beginning of our Primary lesson, when we are especially reverent, that Sister Gentry said, “I want you all to close your eyes.”
We all shut our eyes, wondering what she was going to do next.
“Very good. Now I want you to picture yourself walking up to the doors of the meetinghouse. As you look around, you see that the grass hasn’t been cut in a long time and that big clumps of weeds are growing here and there.
“You enter the building,” Sister Gentry continued, “and walk down the hall toward the chapel. The hallway is littered with crumpled papers and broken crayons. The walls have scribbles on them and dirty handprints. A big cobweb hangs in the corner.
“Passing the cultural hall, you see plates of stale food piled up on tables. Crushed cups and dirty napkins litter the floor. The stage curtains have gaping tears in them, and the carpet is badly stained from spills that were never cleaned up.
“Entering the chapel, you notice the shabby seats. On closer inspection, there are dust bunnies under the benches and in the corners. Discarded programs are sticking up behind the hymnbooks. And candy wrappers and dry cereal are scattered on the benches and floor.”
Sister Gentry paused for a moment. “Now open your eyes and tell me how you felt during your imaginary tour.”
We all agreed that we felt dirty and sad and wouldn’t want to go to such a place again.
Sister Gentry explained that our meetinghouse is the Lord’s house, a sacred place. And we all need to do our part in keeping it clean and beautiful so that His spirit will be there.

I recently engaged in a wrestle. When the policy was announced that the children of gay parents might not be eligible for baptism at age eight, I was confused. I did not question the Brethren or doubt their inspiration, but neither did I understand the doctrinal basis for the policy. So I asked the Lord to teach me. I prayed, searched the scriptures, studied the teachings of prophets, and pondered my question in the temple. This went on for several months. Then one day a colleague made a statement that sparked a new thought for me, and in that moment the Spirit illuminated the doctrine in my heart and mind. I consider that answer personal revelation and not something I should teach. Though I have wept with friends to whom this policy directly applies, the doctrine gave me peace and understanding.

Let me tell about another young man that I’ll also call Raymond. Even though this incident happened in his teen years, it applies to any one of us, even as adults, in teaching us to rely on the Lord.

When he was eleven, Raymond obtained a paper route and really began to prosper. He was still delivering papers at age sixteen. One day, the manager of the newspaper, an inactive adult member of the Church, came in and said, “Raymond, you have been so loyal and done so well in selling subscriptions that I’m going to appoint you assistant manager of circulation of this newspaper. In your duties you’ll supervise the other paper boys and teach them how to sell subscriptions. After school, after finishing your route, you’ll be able to come to the office to work two or three hours. You’ll be able to do some homework while you’re waiting to answer complaints on the phone. All in all, it will be a great job for you. And by the way, your pay will be tripled.”

The young man was delighted. He wanted to go on a mission and was saving money from his route to prepare for that day. This job would simply accelerate the process. He counted his blessings for the ideal job at a time when many teenagers had no work.

He said to himself, over and over again, “My, the Lord blesses one who keeps the commandments.” He wanted to glorify the Lord in that he had always paid his tithing, kept the Sabbath day holy, and honored his priesthood. He also felt he was being blessed for resisting the pressure to study on Sunday.

A successful year and a half went by and one Saturday, George, the newspaper manager, came to him and said, “You know, Raymond, one week from now we’re going to begin delivering the Sunday paper. You will not only have your Sunday route to deliver early in the morning, but you’ll have to stay in the office from about 7:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m. in the afternoon. You’ll also receive a thirty percent increase in pay.”

Raymond’s countenance immediately fell. The manager quickly added, “I know you’re a Mormon, and you may, by chance, be thinking of not doing this extra job beyond your route. If you don’t take the job, you’ll not only lose the opportunity to earn more money on Sunday, but you’ll also lose your paper route and be fired from your weekday job as well. There are many of my other paper boys who would give their right arm to have your job.”

As Raymond went home on his bicycle that day, he was very despondent. He prayed over and over, “How could this be, Heavenly Father? I have kept the commandments. I’ve tried to do what is right. I’m trying to go on a mission. Now I may lose my job. Shall I work this added job on Sunday or not?”

He very emotionally explained the problem to his father, who gave him the correct answer when he said, “I don’t know the answer, but I know someone who does,” meaning the Lord. In a great teaching moment he put the burden back on Raymond.

Raymond struggled with the problem. He talked to his bishop. He told him about the same thing his father had told him. He learned that there were sacrament meetings being held in the other wards in the afternoon that he could attend if he decided to work. He prayed and struggled with the problem two full days.

Tuesday, when asked for a decision by George, the manager, Raymond said with great emotion, “I love my job and my route, but I cannot work on Sunday, thereby missing all of my meetings and working throughout the Sabbath day. It’s not right!”

George said emphatically and angrily, “You’re fired! Come in Saturday to pick up your last check! Did you hear me? You’re fired! There are scores of young men who would be glad to have a job like this. You’re a very ungrateful young man!” And he stomped out of the office.

The next three or four days were hard for Raymond. The manager hardly spoke to him. He really wondered if he had decided correctly. He thought to himself, “There are many who have to work on Sunday because of their employment. Shouldn’t I?” But the answer seemed to be the same: “There may be some who have to work on Sunday, but you don’t have to and should not.”

Saturday morning finally arrived and Raymond went in to pick up his last check. As he walked into the office somewhat downtrodden, George was waiting for him. He grabbed the boy by the arm and took him to a nearby room, perhaps for privacy, and said, “Raymond, please forgive me. I was wrong. I ought not to have tried to make you break the commandments of the Lord. I have found another young man of another faith who is willing to do the extra work on Sunday. You can keep your job. Will you?”

With a heart full of thankfulness, Raymond answered, “Yes.” The manager then added, “You’ll find the extra thirty percent I was going to pay you for the extra work on Sunday included in your paycheck this week, and also in your future paychecks, as long as you continue working for me.”

What great joy Raymond felt in his heart as he went home that afternoon, saying again and again to himself, “It is worth it to keep the commandments of the Lord. The Lord will always provide for his own.” What joy Raymond felt a year later to see his manager in the congregation when he gave his final talk preparatory to leaving for his mission.

What greater joy, a few months ago, after twenty-six years, to find Raymond talking with George on the phone, learning that he’s active, faithful, strong in the Church, and is a high priest group leader in his ward in another state.

Let me share some thoughts about Sister Carmen Reich, my mother-in-law, who was truly an elect lady. She embraced the gospel in a most difficult and dark time of her life, and she liberated herself from grief and sorrow.

As a young woman—a widow and the mother of two young girls—she freed herself from a world of old traditions and moved into a world of great spirituality. She embraced the teachings of the gospel, with its intellectual and spiritual power, on a fast track. When the missionaries gave her the Book of Mormon and invited her to read the verses they had marked, she read the whole book within only a few days. She learned things beyond the understanding of her peers because she learned them by the Spirit of God. She was the humblest of the humble, the wisest of the wise, because she was willing and pure enough to believe when God had spoken.

She was baptized on November 7, 1954. Only a few weeks after her baptism, she was asked by the missionary who baptized her to write her testimony. The missionary wanted to use her testimony in his teaching to help others feel the true spirit of conversion. Fortunately, the missionary kept the handwritten original for more than 40 years, and then he returned it to her as a very special and loving gift.

Let me share with you parts of her written testimony. Please keep in mind that she wrote these words only a few weeks after hearing about the gospel. Before the missionaries came, she had never heard anything about the Book of Mormon, Joseph Smith, or Mormons in general. In 1954 there were no temples outside the continental United States, except in Canada and Hawaii.

This is the English translation of Sister Reich’s handwritten testimony:
“Special characteristics of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints that are not present in other religious communities include, above all, modern revelation given through the Prophet Joseph Smith.
“The Book of Mormon in its clear and pure language is next, with all the instructions and promises for the Church of Jesus Christ; it is truly a second witness, together with the Bible, that Jesus Christ lives.
“Bound together by faith in a personal God, that is, God the Father, God the Son, and the Holy Ghost, who facilitates prayer and also influences personally.
“Also, faith in the premortal life, the preexistence, the purpose of our earthly life, and our life after death is so valuable for us and especially interesting and informative. It is clearly laid out, and our lives receive new meaning and direction.
“The Church has given us the Word of Wisdom as a guide to keep body and spirit in the most perfect shape possible to realize our desire and goal. So we keep our bodies healthy and improve them. All this from the knowledge that we will take them up again after death in the same form.
“Totally new to me, of course, is temple work with its many sacred ordinances, having families together forever. All this was given through revelation to the Prophet Joseph Smith.”

Carmen Reich, my dear mother-in-law, passed away in 2000 at age 83.

As I look back over my life and remember the difficult decisions, one stands out far more than others: Should I go on a mission? Mom and dad want me to go. The bishop tells me I should go. Some of my friends are going, but others tell me it would be a mistake. They say: “Think of the fun you’ll miss.” “What about your education?” “How about your girl friend?” It just seems that there is so much going on that I can’t give up two years. What should I do?
Why should you serve a mission? Several things come to my mind as I think about the answer to this searching question. Surely, the answer is easy: The Lord says you should; the prophet has given repeated emphasis to this; your family, Church leaders, and others encourage you to serve—but they are not you. I remember how good I felt, from the inside out, from the bottom of my feet to the top of my head, when I finally said yes. I received a confirmation from the Lord that what I had done was good. It was right, and I knew it. For once in my life I had started thinking about others instead of only myself, and that gave me a feeling I have yearned for every day of my life since. It’s rewarding to give of yourself that others might be blessed. This is one of the reasons why our Savior made the following statement: “And he that taketh not his cross, and followeth after me, is not worthy of me. He that findeth his life shall lose it; and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it.” (Matt. 10:38–39.)

When our son Grant was four-and-a-half years old, he came home from church with a “choose the right” ring—one of the adjustable little rings with a CTR crest. Grant was ecstatic. He showed it to his brothers and sisters. His dad and I chuckled at how much he loved this little ring. Well, shortly after church Grant lost the ring at home. He was despondent. A couple of days later, as I was cleaning the family room, I found Grant’s CTR ring under a couch cushion. Grant was so happy to have his ring back! Not much later, as Grant and his little brother Noah were playing upstairs, I heard a thud and then Noah crying. My practiced mother’s ears knew that those sounds meant Grant, normally a very kind child, had shoved Noah into a wall.

As I got upstairs, I found Noah whimpering a little but not hurt and moving on to play. But Grant was sobbing and pulling off the ring on his finger. He threw the CTR ring down the hall with all his little boy might and through tears yelled, “That thing does not work!”

I sat on the floor and gathered Grant into my arms and asked, “Did you think that if you wore that ring that you would only choose the right?”

He nodded, “Yes.”

I then said, “Oh, sweet boy, it doesn’t work that way. Heavenly Father gave us the greatest gift in that we can choose how we act and what we do. The CTR ring is a reminder, but you choose.”

When we lived in Winnipeg 30 years ago, a local LDS musician, Randy Bachman, had established a huge reputation in the world of rock music. His groups, "The Guess Who" and "Bachman-Turner Overdrive" sold millions of albums and his hit single, "American Woman", too screechy for my personal taste, can still be heard occasionally. Randy stayed active in the church in spite of the conflicting lifestyle usually associated with the music scene. He wasn't bashful about letting people know his beliefs either, and a stream of roadies and fans at various times touched base with the church because of Randy's efforts. When I was branch president of the Winnipeg 1st branch back in the early 70s, at one sacrament meeting, we were just ready to begin when a couple of scruffy-looking fellows with hair down to their waists walked in and sat near the front of the chapel. Internally I must have shook my head and thought "Randy, what are you doing?" But I made sure I met them after the meeting, and made a note of their names "John Moore and Glen Cranwell". To my surprise they continued to attend meetings regularly, and as weeks passed, the hair became a little shorter. We talked and I discovered they were nice fellows. They had been roadies with Randy's group, but were realizing that there really was no future for them there. Imagine my reaction when the missionaries reported baptism dates for the two of them. They had both reached a crossroad in their lives, had made commitments, and were ready to start over. Today John Moore is 1st counselor in the Winnipeg Stake Presidency and last I heard Glen Cranwell was on the high council, both model priesthood holders who had the courage to change their lives and begin again, converted and committed to a higher set of values. This should remind us that we need to be supportive and not judgmental in response to others as they encounter the challenges of starting over.

I kind of think of prayer as the cream of the gospel but since I am working on my wellness challenge and I am trying to make healthy choices I am going to compare it to non-fat milk for this story. For those that are lactose intolerant you can substitute soy or almond milk for your own analogy. I came back from the gym one morning ready to make and eat my oatmeal. I was looking forward to eating this as I hungry from my workout and I had cut up bananas and walnuts to put on top. In trying to hurry to get ready for work I grabbed it and started walking upstairs to finish getting ready. As I took a bite I thought, something is missing. I took another bite and thought this is bland. It was then that I discovered in my hurry I had completely forgotten the milk. I was surprised at what a difference it made. Now you can substitute any cereal you normally eat like Fruit Loops or Captain Crunch but you can understand that you need milk with your cereal. Or maybe you might like to compare it to eating an Oreo and not having milk to dunk it in. So I say to you “Don’t forget the milk” meaning don’t forget to pray. The gospel is so much more flavorful and delightful with your spiritual milk or prayer each day.

Note: The following youth from Paradise, California, USA, reflect on the meaning of Christmas after the most destructive wildfire in California’s history burned down their community.
“After the fire I realized that the most important things to have are your family and friends. So although we didn’t get many gifts, it was so really nice to just be surrounded by family. It was still a happy time for us, even though it wasn’t like our normal Christmas.”
Rachel W.
“I got to help unload and organize several truckloads of donated toys. Then we opened the doors and let everyone in. It was really fun to watch all the kids. Their eyes would light up. They were so excited! It made me happy to see them so happy and peaceful after living through something so awful.”
Audrey V.
“It was great to see everyone kind of get thrown together and depend on each other socially. … I learned that material things don’t matter as much. Service, family, and time spent together matters a lot more. Life is valuable. Things can always change for the worse, so we need to try to enjoy the positive times while they’re around. We’re the ones that make those positive times!”
Billy A.

Alison Numkena and Jandi Hernandez want to set the record straight.
The girls, both Laurels in the Pinetop-Lakeside Arizona Stake, speak perfect English (in fact, it’s really the only language they speak). They watch television, go to regular high school, and when they attend stake dances, they don’t ride horseback to get there.
“It’s funny what people think about us sometimes,” says Jandi. “Since we’re Native Americans and we live on the reservation, people sometimes get funny ideas about what we’re like. But I think we’re pretty much like everybody else.”
And just like many young women in the Church, Alison, Jandi, and the rest of the girls on the Fort Apache Reservation look forward to girls’ camp in the summer.
However, for a long time, these girls had to wait two years between camp experiences. The stake hosts girls’ camp every other summer, and in the alternating summers, girls attend camp with their own wards and branches. But with just a small handful of active LDS girls, the reservation branches never had enough people for individual camps. Until this year, that is. By combining the girls from all three branches on the reservation, there was a large enough group for a small camp. So the girls and their leaders made it happen.
At the age of 18, Olivia Nez has been around the longest of any of the girls in the Young Women program on the reservation. She has played a large part in helping to plan this first girls’ camp, working closely with the leaders to make sure that all the girls had the equipment and skills necessary to have a great time. Even though her senior year was chock-full of activities, including being the student body president, Olivia made time to act as the youth camp director.
“Since I just graduated [from high school], this is my first and last camp with our branches,” she says. “The girls in my branch and the other branches face a lot of challenges, and this is a good opportunity to learn more about the gospel and recommit ourselves.”
Jandi and Alison, who are also Laurels, wanted to make a meaningful contribution to camp too. Jandi’s mom, Glenda, is the camp director, so she had plenty of things they could do to help out, including setting up camp and helping organize and execute a fund-raiser. They also put together binders for each girl containing information about each day’s activities, words to campfire songs, and camp certification information. Even with a relatively small group coming to camp, it was a big job.
“We worked right up to the last minute,” says Jandi. “The day camp started, we were still putting some of them together. We finished just in time!”
Many of the most important aspects of camp are the same for the girls on the Fort Apache Reservation as for young women anywhere else. Like any girls’ camp, there is a mixture of learning camping and hiking skills and learning about the gospel. There were afternoon workshops—many taught by the girls themselves—on the common challenges of keeping the Word of Wisdom, chastity, and church activity. Many of the other activities and campfire speakers also focused on these topics.
“Sometimes you get intimidated by an older person telling you what you need to do,” says Jandi. “Learning it from a friend is different; it’s easier to hear.”
There are differences, too, things that make this camp unlike any other. These girls are proud of their Native American heritage and have found ways to incorporate it into their camp experience. Most evenings there is something to eat that is unique to this camp—fry bread and Navajo tacos, for example, or a special cornbread that requires all the girls to help mash several ears of fresh corn and then take turns cooking the pancake-like bread over the fire.
But it’s not just the food that’s unique. One night’s campfire features several of the older leaders telling stories of their younger days on the reservation and of their conversion to the gospel. There is an emphasis on feeling good about being LDS and being a Native American and finding ways to make the two work together.
“Prayer is an important part of our culture, both as members of the Church and as members of the Apache tribe,” says Jandi. “It’s in our blood to pray morning, noon, and night. Heavenly Father and Jesus are important in our culture. Our tribal chairman and our tribal council often ask us to pray. You hear it in the Church and out.”
When camp ends, there are the usual comments about being eager to get home and have a hot shower, eat twig-free food, and sleep with something other than a rock for a pillow. As the girls take down tents and roll up sleeping bags, they talk about what was great about camp (seeing a baby elk from a distance of just a few feet) and what could be improved next time (more blankets for the near-freezing nighttime temperatures). But mostly they talk about how grateful they are that they were able to come to camp at all.
“We’ve gotten closer at this camp than we’ve ever been,” says Taren Webster, a Beehive. “Camp gives us time together away from home. I think that’s really important.”
Next year the girls from the reservation will join the other girls in their stake for camp. And the year after that? This group is still small, but they pulled it off once, so the next time should be a little easier. They’ll build on traditions they started this year, and maybe even come up with a few new ones. Just like this year, they’ll have a great time getting to know each other, becoming better campers, and learning about the gospel.
And that makes them pretty much like young women everywhere.
Are you heading off to girls’ camp soon? If so, you probably already know what to bring, and the activities are probably planned. Here are a few last-minute tips from the girls in Fort Apache for making a good camp great:
Be ready to share your talents, your ideas, and your testimony. Most camp activities require lots of group participation. Remember you’re among friends, so don’t be shy.
Maintain a cheerful attitude. Some parts of camp probably won’t be as much fun as others (being on dish-washing duty, for example), but putting a smile on your face and being a good sport make the time go quickly.
Look for opportunities to be kind. Does your tent mate need help with a certification skill? Is there a first-year camper who is homesick and could use a shoulder to cry on? Find people who need help and help them.
Remember what you’ve learned. At camp you often draw closer to the Lord, as well as to the other members of your Young Women group. Instead of letting those good feelings fade, build on them throughout the year.

One actress even believes that the benefits of participating in the project extend to fulfilling a part of her patriarchal blessing. Linda Anderson, who plays Bev Parker, the mother of some of the more wayward characters, was camera shy and reluctant to accept the roll the directors offered her after spying her in sacrament meeting one day.

“My patriarchal blessing promised that I would touch the lives of thousands of youth, but I always wondered how I would do that. I live in such a small town, and I’ve never been called to a position in the Church where I’ve worked with youth. I’ve been a teacher of little tiny kids, but most of the time I’ve been in the library, a secretary, and now I’m a counselor in the Relief Society. But when they called me and asked me to do this, a little flash went off in my mind that said, ‘Maybe this is what my blessing is referring to,’ and I thought maybe I should take the part.”

Sister Anderson learned some invaluable lessons while working on the film. “You know,” she says, “kids aren’t the only ones who pay the consequences for their actions. Their parents pay too.” Sister Anderson’s real children, and there are seven of them, ages 4–18, don’t cause nearly as much trouble as do two of her film children, Carl and Karen.

Sister Anderson says the film taught her some lessons for her own family too. “I’m not a very patient mother,” she’ll tell you. “But in the film, I was always very calm and contained. I wasn’t allowed to scream and holler at my kids when they came home late, the way I would at home. When I started to play a woman who always had her act together, I started to pull my act together a little bit more with my children.”

Photograph of hand from Getty Images
As a PhD student in Australia, I often traveled from my residence to nearby restaurants in the Melbourne central business district. During one of my shuttles, I saw on the ground a card with a portrait of Jesus Christ. A voice inside me insisted that I pick it up.
I obeyed and carefully perused the card. Then I looked for a better place to leave the small portrait of the Savior but found none. Consequently, I took the card home and placed it on my bookshelf.
Three days later, I met two missionaries while on my way to lunch. We set an appointment for them to teach me, and they handed me a card similar to the one I had found. When I returned home, I compared the two cards. They were both from the missionaries’ church.
When the missionaries visited me, they bore their testimonies about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Initially, I was not comfortable with their testimony. To me, it seemed blasphemous to say that the Church of Jesus Christ had been restored and was the only true church on earth, but two factors kept my interest.
First, I read from the scriptures that “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom” (Psalm 111:10). I needed wisdom and would like to fear the Lord so that I would get wisdom. I reasoned that I would not fear the Lord without knowing Him. Hence, what the missionaries were teaching me was important because I needed knowledge about the Lord.
Second, I concluded that the Lord had directed me to find the card I had picked up. Throughout the years I stayed in Melbourne, I never saw a similar card on the ground. I concluded that the cards were not thrown away carelessly.
As I took the missionary lessons, I became happier and overwhelmed with the knowledge I got from the new teaching. Soon, I was baptized. I’m now sealed to my wife and children for time and eternity, and today I have the same testimony the missionaries bore to me: The Church of Jesus Christ has been restored through the Prophet Joseph Smith. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the only true church on earth and is guided by a living prophet.

Why me? Why now? I had just gotten back from competing in a major horse show held in California and was at the height of my hunter-jumper equestrian riding abilities. I was busy with school, piano lessons, and Beehives. I was doing everything I had been taught to do, and I thought that my life was about as perfect as life can ever get. Then it changed.
I was now in a hospital bed, too sick to even open my eyes. I had been diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia. My illness came just four years after my mom died from a similar cancer. I was on heavy chemotherapy to get rid of the cancer, and the doctors were saying that I would have to undergo chemotherapy for two and a half years to make sure that all the cancer was gone. I couldn’t understand why me and why now.
I soon learned that being diagnosed with cancer was not the only challenge I would face. One of the drugs used to treat leukemia is a steroid given at extremely high doses. It is very effective at killing the leukemia cells, but there is a small risk that it can result in avascular necrosis (a condition in which bones die near the joints), particularly in teenage girls. My doctors thought that, at 12 years old, I was too young for that to happen. However, within one month of starting chemotherapy, the steroids ended up destroying most of my major joints and parts of my spine. I was living in constant pain. Four months after I was diagnosed with leukemia, I had my first hip surgery to begin trying to repair the damage done by the steroids and to lessen the pain. The surgery did not go as well as I had hoped, and my orthopedic surgeon told me that I would probably never ride a horse again. All of a sudden, the future I had planned was gone.
I was a good student, and I really enjoyed school. Now I couldn’t go to school or even out in public because the chemotherapy had destroyed my immune system. Instead, I stayed home with my stepmother. At this point I thought things were pretty bad, but they got worse.
Six months after my hip surgery, I had to have another hip surgery because the first one hadn’t worked. I was in a wheelchair because it hurt too much to walk. I was absolutely sure that I wasn’t going to ride horses again, and now I was worried if I would even be able to walk again. Living life sick, in constant pain, and confined to a wheelchair didn’t sound like a lot of fun to me.
I was praying to my Heavenly Father, and I know many other people were praying for me also. Through all of my trials, I prayed that I would be healed, that my joints would recover, and that I wouldn’t have to go through the rest of chemotherapy. I felt that my prayers weren’t being answered because I still had to go to Primary Children’s Medical Center in Salt Lake City every week for more chemotherapy. I still hurt. And I was still stuck in a wheelchair. At one point, I started to think that my parents were crazy for believing in a God who wouldn’t even listen to a poor little sick girl.
Years before, I had gone through a similar trial of my faith when I prayed for my mom to get better. She was on oxygen all the time and was too weak to even walk around the house. I prayed and hoped and prayed some more that she would miraculously be healed. However, she wasn’t. After she died, I learned that we can pray for what we want all that we want to, but we need to pray for the right things—praying that the Lord’s will be done—to have our prayers answered.
Remembering this lesson, I changed my prayers from “Please heal me” to “Heavenly Father, I would really like to be done with these trials, but I will accept Thy will.” As soon as I changed my prayers, I found that I was able to handle the chemotherapy more easily, and I had a better attitude. That was just the beginning of the blessings and the answers to my prayers and questions.
My dad and grandfather gave me many priesthood blessings. Whenever I had to go in for surgery, I would ask for a blessing. The blessings helped me and my family feel calm about the procedure. One time I had a high fever, and we had to go to the hospital. I received a blessing from my dad and a neighbor before we left. By the time we pulled up at the emergency room door, my fever was gone, and I didn’t have to stay the night in the hospital. I know that priesthood power is a gift from a loving Heavenly Father.
One moment that will always stand out in my mind was the day I came home from the hospital after I was diagnosed with leukemia. The young women and Relief Society sisters had moved my stuff from the basement into a room on the main floor so I would be closer to my parents and wouldn’t have to use the stairs. They had cleaned and decorated the room to make a great place for me to live while I was sick. My family was the recipient of many other service projects. In the beginning, it was hard for me to accept service. When people would do service for me, it would make me feel like I couldn’t do anything for myself. However, I soon learned that it was OK to ask for help. When I started feeling better, I began looking for opportunities to serve other people more. Now I try to serve as much as I can. I get a good feeling when I serve other people. I have come to realize that by letting other people serve me, I allow them the same good feelings.
I have learned to think more about the future and my choices because I was so close to death. At school, I heard girls complaining about how they were having a “bad hair day.” As I was sitting there in my hot pink wheelchair with a wig on my head, I would think, “Well at least you have hair!” Girls would also complain about their feet hurting from walking around in high heels. I would think to myself, “At least you can walk.” Now I try to focus more on the big picture instead of the small things I used to worry about.
Over the past few years I have learned many other things through the blessings of having leukemia and the complications from chemotherapy. I have become closer to my Heavenly Father. My testimony has grown. And I have learned what is truly important. I have learned to appreciate all of the small things that people do for me. I am now in remission, in less pain, and gradually getting back some of the use of my joints. As I continue to heal, the blessings and learning experiences keep coming.
So why me? Why now? I don’t ask those questions anymore because I grew spiritually during my trials. I have discovered who I really am because the Lord loved me enough to let me experience adversity and the blessings that can come with it.
Note: Elizabeth is in remission and recently passed her third anniversary of being off chemotherapy. Her joints are healing, and she is no longer in a wheelchair. While there is still a risk for a relapse, Elizabeth doesn’t think about it. Instead, as a freshman in college, she is focused on studying for tests and practicing the oboe and English horn.

Alasdair sat up straighter in his red velvet chair as the lights began to dim. The people in the theater stopped chatting and looked up at the stage. Alasdair’s sister, Sutton, folded her program. Then she caught his eye and smiled. “Ready, Al?” she asked.
Tonight was Alasdair’s first time at the theater. His parents loved to watch plays, and when Sutton turned 10, they started taking her with them. Now Alasdair was finally old enough to go too!
The orchestra began the overture. Then the actors walked out on stage and the show began.
Alasdair loved the play. It had adventure, mystery—and even some great jokes! When the show ended, all the actors came out for their curtain call. As Alasdair joined the applause, he had a good feeling, like he sometimes got in Primary. Was he feeling the Holy Ghost? It can’t be. I’m not at church! Alasdair thought.
Overture—music at the beginning of the play
Curtain call—when the actors take their bow at the end of a play
On the way home, Alasdair sat by Sutton on the subway. “Did you like the play?” she asked as the train rattled through the dark tunnels.
Alasdair nodded. “I loved it!”
“Me too,” Sutton said.
Alasdair thought about how good he had felt during the play. “Sutton,” he said, “when we were watching the play, I felt happy, sort of like I do at church. But the play wasn’t about the gospel!”
“That was the Holy Ghost,” Sutton said as the train stopped and they followed their parents onto the platform. “He can tell us what’s good for us to be around and what isn’t. Did you think the play had a good message?”
“Yes,” Alasdair said. “It was about being kind to other people.”
“Right!” Sutton said as they climbed up the escalator behind their parents. “The Holy Ghost is always there to tell us when things are good for us to be around—not just when we’re at church. We just have to listen.”

“Each one of us had a job, a goal, and an objective. We knew we had to make Sauniatu stand up and be independent,” said Ed Kamauoha as he began relating the incredible story of a service project that has continued for years and dramatically influenced hundreds of lives.
The village of Sauniatu is tucked in the crater of an extinct volcano 20 miles east of Apia on the island of Upolu in Western Samoa. Most of the island’s roads parallel the sea coast; very few lead into the interior. And though it is only four miles from the coast highway, Sauniatu is isolated. You can almost walk as fast as a car can drive up the bouncy, twisting volcanic path that appears to be a giant green tunnel through the lush growth on either side of the trail.
The Samoan word Sauniatu means “a place to prepare.” The early Saints who established Sauniatu had a vision about the importance of this place in the Samoan history of the Church. They knew they needed a place where they could prepare and build strength. In 1904, when they established Sauniatu, they had been expelled from their villages, persecuted, and unfairly taxed for being Mormons. Later they started a school at Sauniatu, and it became one of the Church schools in Samoa. From time to time, during the ensuing years, the people of Sauniatu and the various school administrators talked about the advisability of keeping such a remote school operating.
In 1921, when Samoan officials were wondering about continuing the village, Elder David O. McKay and Hugh Cannon visited Samoa on their around-the-world tour of the Church. It was on this visit that Elder McKay pronounced an apostolic blessing on Sauniatu and its inhabitants. Among other things, he blessed them that they would have an abundance of food and clothing, that their plantations would be fruitful, and that peace would abide in their hearts and homes. (See Improvement Era, May 1966, p. 366.)
In December 1967, Brother Ed Ka-mauoha was appointed to be the new headmaster at Sauniatu. For years, Sauniatu had been functioning as a school, but when he arrived, the future of Sauniatu was once again in question.
“There were real administrative questions about the efficiency and quality of the school,” he explained. Everyone in Samoa is required to take a standard government education test when they leave high school, and the Sauniatu scores were an average five points below the scores of students from the other Church schools in Samoa. In addition to the low test scores, it was costly to operate the remote school. Many of the students were from very poor families and could not afford to pay more tuition. Enthusiasm among students and teachers was low.
“I felt bad about the school,” he said. “As an administrator, I understood the problems, but I also understood what the tradition of Sauniatu means to the Saints in Samoa. I knew the place was not what it could be because it was not living up to President McKay’s 1921 blessing.”
Ed Kamauoha believed Sauniatu had a prophetic future yet to be fulfilled if each person living there cared. His mind remained restless and his wirey Polynesian body became charged with nervous energy as he began planning to meet the many requirements needed to make the students of Sauniatu self-sufficient and proud and to help the community of Sauniatu reap the promised blessings.
The projects he outlined for the betterment of Sauniatu were big projects. In many people’s minds, they were too big for a handful of teachers and a few dozen school children to handle. Yet Brother Kamauoha felt they could do it.
“Getting everyone to work on big projects is like starting a large machine. You just can’t let it idle; you have to really rev it up and keep it going,” said Brother Kamauoha.
He also felt that the students’ performance in school would improve and the morale among the teachers would also improve if they knew they had some control over their own future. “We had been waiting for others to help us at Sauniatu,” explained Brother Kamauoha. “I tried to teach the people that they had depended too much on outside help and assistance from others. I told them the Lord gives us brains and a pair of hands but they won’t help us unless we use them. And so we started building roads, and we did it by hand.”
As soon as the roads were passable, the young people at Sauniatu began working on other major projects. Groups worked simultaneously on a trail down the side of a cliff to the swimming hole, on roads, a nature trail, improving the plantation, and on the construction of a traditional Samoan village, including a special chief’s house in memory of President McKay’s apostolic blessing.
It took one year to build concrete steps down a volcanic cliffside to the swimming hole and the beautiful waterfall below. Four boys worked on this project. They had two picks, two crowbars, and one sledgehammer, and they worked every night after school and every Saturday for six months. Little by little, they chipped the rock away until they had a pathway wide enough to support some concrete clear to the bottom of the waterfall. It took them another six months of backbreaking labor to make the steps. They hauled sand from the beach in an old pickup truck. They added cement and took gravel from the river and mixed the concrete by hand in a shallow pocket hollowed out of a large stone. Then they shoveled the wet concrete into buckets and lowered them down the cliff with ropes attached to a long bamboo pole. One step at a time they worked until the trail was completed.
While the waterfall project was underway, Brother Kamauoha challenged the young girls to make a path that would lead people from the village to the waterfall. They planned one pathway, but upon inspection they could see it wasn’t right, and so Brother Kamauoha challenged them to try another one. This still wasn’t any good. They reported to him, and he confirmed that it wasn’t right and told them that the reason it wasn’t right was because they hadn’t tried hard enough. “The third time they did their best, and the planned path was perfect. It curved properly, they had avoided the boggy spots, and the entire path was ideal,” he said.
Every evening after school, the girls carried baskets of pebbles up from the river and placed them on the path. Each of them would carry 25 to 40 baskets of rocks each evening, and with everyone working, it took only a few months to complete.
Then the boys and girls brought young trees from the mountains to plant beside the trail. They also brought orchids, tree ferns, and other plants to make the trail beautiful. And they named their trail Losa (Rose) Lane.