Gospel Story Finder

It was a moment that 42 Eagle Scouts from the Boise Idaho North Stake will remember for a long time. Following a banquet in their honor, each of them stood and made a solemn promise—to go on a mission. What made it even more memorable was that the banquet was part of a trip from Boise to Salt Lake City to honor the Eagles, 26 of whom received their award in 1978. And one other thing made it a special promise as well—they made the promise to their former stake president, Elder Vaughn J. Featherstone of the First Quorum of the Seventy.
“I had already planned on serving a mission,” said Tim Duffy, 14, one of the Eagles. “But this really reinforced the desire.”
While in Salt Lake, the group toured the Church Office Building, Temple Square, the Church Historical Archives, and the Genealogical Library. At the banquet they were also addressed by Neil D. Schaerrer, the Young Men general president, and Paul K. Cropper, member of the Young Men General Board.

Gracie felt like she had been waiting in line at the fabric store forever! She was ready to go home and play with her toys. Then she saw a girl in line in front of her. The girl looked a little older than Gracie. She had braces on her legs and used crutches to help her stand. She turned and smiled. Gracie smiled back.
As they were leaving, Gracie was surprised when Mom reached out to stop the other mom.
“Excuse me,” Mom said, “Could I ask why your daughter is using crutches?”
Spina bifida is a problem with the way a baby’s spinal cord grows before birth. It can cause problems with legs, feet, or hips.
The other mom smiled. “This is Saylor, and she has spina bifida.”
Gracie’s eyes opened wide as she looked at Saylor. “This is Gracie, and she has spina bifida too,” Mom said.
Saylor’s mom smiled at Gracie. “Do you have an owie on your back?”
Gracie nodded. She had a long scar on her back from a surgery she’d had right after she was born.
The two moms started talking. Gracie heard words like surgery and treatments. Gracie grinned at Saylor and said hi. Gracie liked Saylor right away. She learned that Saylor was nine, and she was nice. Gracie knew they would be great friends.
Finally they all said goodbye to each other. Gracie heard their moms make plans to meet again soon. She could hardly wait!
Back in the car, Mom said, “You know the surgery you’re going to have soon? Well, Saylor had that surgery, and she’s doing great! I felt the Holy Ghost tell me I should talk to her mom, and I’m glad I did.”
“Me too!” Gracie said.
Gracie loved playing with Saylor. Even though Gracie was five, she and Saylor had lots to talk about. And Mom and Dad talked with Saylor’s parents a lot too—mostly about the big surgery.
Thinking about the surgery made Gracie feel scared. She thought about the long scar on her back. She couldn’t remember that surgery, but she would remember this one. She hoped it would make her better. Saylor had told her that everything would be OK.
A few weeks later, Gracie went to the hospital to get ready for the surgery. The halls of the hospital were bright and happy. There were paintings of blue whales and other fun pictures on the walls. Gracie met with doctors and nurses who explained the surgery to her. She practiced moving the bed up and down and played with the remote for her little TV. They told her she could order chocolate milk every day! Maybe the surgery wouldn’t be so bad.
When Gracie got home, she made a little hospital bed with her pillow and a laundry basket. She got a tray of snacks and pretended she was at the hospital. It would be fun. She tried not to think about the surgery.
A few days before surgery, Gracie got a card from Saylor. She had drawn a picture of Gracie with Saylor and Heavenly Father and Jesus. It said, “Remember that Heavenly Father will make you brave.”
Gracie hugged her card tight. Saylor helped her be brave. Gracie knew Heavenly Father could help her be brave for the surgery too.

One of my duties back on the farm was to feed my fathers sheep. During the cold winter their survival was dependent on my supplying them with hay and grain we had stored from the summer.
Beneficial as that was, nothing could compare with the Spring, when I would open the gate and guide the sheep out onto the grassy slopes where they could forage for themselves. Instead of huddling in bunches waiting to be fed, they would move freely over the hillsides, searching for and feasting upon living food from its original source. By fall they were always fat and healthy.

Because his father believed that boys should learn to work, he bought a farm. The family lived there in the summer and went there on Saturdays in the spring and fall. They pruned trees in winter and early spring, then picked the fruit in late summer and early fall. Young Gordon learned to work hard. He also learned the beauty of nature that God has given us “and the bad things that happen when nature is abused.”†

Then one day, eight years later, Felipe met some missionaries. They were from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. They taught him about living prophets, who spoke God’s words. This was just what Felipe had hoped for!
Felipe was excited to join the Church. He became one of the first missionaries from the Philippines to share the gospel there. Again, God had shown Felipe where to go—and Felipe knew God always would.

Susan was eight years old. She had just been baptized. She was playing out in the yard with her sisters and some friends, and she went into the house to get a drink of water. Her mother said, “Susan, dinner’s ready. Will you please call your sisters to eat?” So she went to the door and called to them.
They really didn’t want to go in, so they argued and said, “Oh, no, it isn’t time for dinner. You are just teasing us.” And they accused her of not telling the truth.
Well, she gathered herself up in all of her eight-year-old dignity, put her hands on her hips, and said, “It is dinnertime. I’m telling you the truth, and you can believe me because I have been baptized.”
She knew that her baptism required of her a certain standard of behavior. Her choice was that she would tell the truth, and she was willing to commit to that.

Wilfredo Perez, a recent convert from Cabo Rojo, Puerto Rico, has always had a lot of friends.
“The day I joined the Church,” he says, “many members told me that maybe I’d lose some friends. I wondered why. I couldn’t see why my being a Latter-day Saint would affect my friends.
“I kept doing things with my friends, but I no longer talked about or did some of the things I used to do before I joined the Church. Sometimes that made them a little uncomfortable. In the beginning, it was hard to say no. I didn’t want to hurt their feelings or have them think I didn’t like them anymore.
“One of my friends invited me to a New Year’s Eve party. I went and he told me, ‘Wilfredo, come in and have all the rum and beer you want.’
“I told him, ‘No thanks. I don’t like rum or beer, and besides, it’s not good for my health.’
“‘Okay,’ he said, ‘enjoy the party any way you want.’ So I enjoyed being with my friends, but without drinking or doing things I knew I shouldn’t.”

Along with his integrity and ability comes a special loyalty and sensitivity. Margaret Bury, President Faust’s secretary of many years, observes, “He treats everyone well, whether they be judge or janitor.”
“I learned from him the meaning of loyalty,” observes his son Marcus. “My father would make two haircut appointments, one soon after the other. The first appointment was with my grandfather’s barber, a buddy from World War I who was so old he was losing his eyesight and the steadiness in his hands. The second appointment was with another barber who would even out the work.” Little wonder that Marcus comments further: “Father has a soft touch and can deal with sensitive situations without leaving hurt feelings. He can ‘walk on wet concrete without leaving any footprints.’”

When you meet Chris Jones, the first thing you’ll notice is how quick he is to smile.
And the second thing—which follows almost immediately—is how quickly he begins to treat you like a good friend.
As Chris’s new friend, you’ll be talking football—because Chris has been a football player since the age of seven—but you can’t help noticing that his conversation is full of references to the gospel. It soon becomes clear that he loves the Lord and the Church with all his heart.
Even though Chris has been home from serving in the Oregon Portland Mission for a couple of years, he still has the sure handshake of a missionary. A mission is something he had been planning for his whole life. And his missionary spirit certainly did not get left in the mission field when he returned.
Chris is from St. Mary’s, Georgia. His parents, Artie and Carolyn Jones, met the missionaries in 1978, when Chris was only two. Chris said, “The first time my dad went to church, he saw a lot of people that he recognized in the community that respected him. That was one thing he really noticed.”
The Jones family was baptized and, as Chris has been told, they received a lot of ridicule for joining the Church. When Chris looks back, he is so appreciative of the fact that his parents were able to raise him and his two brothers and one sister in a way consistent with the principles of the gospel. And Chris grew up knowing that someday he would serve a mission. “If it is part of the Church and the Church is true, then I’ll do it.”
In fact, Chris says his mother helped him keep that in mind. “My mom was the one that pulled us out of bed at 5:15 in the morning to go to seminary for four years. It was a struggle. I hated getting up at 5:15. But it was through a combination of my mother and going to seminary that I gained a testimony of the gospel. Up until then, I always knew the gospel was right. I just didn’t know why it was right.”
As Chris gained a testimony, he found that living the gospel principles helped him learn about prayer. “I can’t recall a prayer that I’ve never received an answer to. Receiving an answer is a matter of allowing the Lord to answer you and give you His answer. A lot of times if you pray with your own answer in mind, you look for that answer. If another answer comes, then you’re not ready to receive it.”
Chris loved playing football in grade school and junior high. He started at linebacker all during high school. And, as Chris points out, football in Georgia is serious business. His high school would have 10,000 fans attend its Friday night games. During his junior year, he began getting attention from college scouts. It was exciting, but his mom would remind him not to get too interested because he was going on a mission.
When the scouts showed up, that was the time Chris had to face the possibilities of playing football at the college level. His high school coach told the scouts that he was a hard-working player and was an honor student. Finally concrete offers started to come—full-ride scholarships through four years of college, worth thousands of dollars.
“I asked,” said Chris, “if they would hold a scholarship for two years. One coach was shocked. I told him I was going to go on a mission for my church. He just stared at me and said, ‘You’re going to give up 80 thousand dollars to serve a mission for two years?’ He got mad at me. But I didn’t get offended.” After that, his coach started turning away college recruiters interested in Chris.
Eventually, State University of West Georgia called. The school offered him a scholarship. It turned out that Chris would be able to play a year and a quarter, essentially two seasons, before turning 19 and receiving a mission call. “I knew that all things were possible with the Lord. There were people saying that I couldn’t serve a mission and play ball, yet the Lord provided a way to do both.”
Chris struggled at West Georgia, not on the field where he started as a true freshman but in the permissive atmosphere in the dorms. He didn’t like what was going on around him. He was more determined than ever to go on a mission. And it was on his mission that Chris put football behind him completely. He told his coaches that if they needed to talk to him, to go through his parents. He didn’t keep up on what the team was doing. He says that the only way to serve on a mission is completely and with total focus.
At the conclusion of his mission, Chris decided that he could not return to the atmosphere at his former college. He thought that was also a decision to give up football, and he was willing to do it.
Just as Chris was completing his mission, his mission president contacted BYU about Chris. At first, becoming a BYU football team member didn’t seem like a possibility, but he was invited to try out. He received a full-ride scholarship but was redshirted a year. Once Chris thought sitting out a year would be horrible, but now it was a blessing. He was able to concentrate on his major, a difficult one, in manufacturing engineering and technology. He feels that the Lord has guided his life because at BYU he has had the opportunity to continue missionary work as a ward mission leader. Football will fall by the wayside. That’s fine with Chris. It no longer has his heart.
There is, however, one thing Chris has always wanted—a championship ring. He just missed taking state in high school. And his college team won the conference the year he left on his mission. Knowing this, some friends on his mission got together and bought Chris a ring—a CTR ring that he wears continually. It’s become his championship ring.
Whenever Chris looks at it he is reminded of what he believes deep inside. “Right makes you happy. If you do what is right, everything will fall into place.”

A few years ago, as a birthday gift, I went to the FamilySearch® system and retrieved my wife’s entire recorded family pedigree. That was a serious mistake. The computer revealed that my wife is a descendant of European royalty. It has been hard to live with her ever since. Maybe now, through this knowledge of her family history, I am more inclined to treat her as our family queen. But the biggest problem, of course, is that my children share in this royal ancestry, which, sadly, makes me the only “commoner” in my family.

Illustration by G. Bjorn Thorkelson
Picture 3,000 missionaries gathered in a large room. Two thousand nine hundred ninety-nine of them are talking excitedly and looking toward the same spot in the room. Some are on their tiptoes. Some are jumping to snatch quick glances over those on tiptoes. Some are standing on folding chairs. One missionary is sitting on a folding chair, elbows on his knees, hands clasped, head bowed.
That might not be exactly what happened, but that’s how I remember it. That was how I felt. I was that one missionary.
As you picture the scene, you might think I was lonely or sad. Actually, I was experiencing one of the happiest moments of my life—a moment that I have been glad to relive many times since then.
I was at the missionary training center in Provo, Utah, preparing to serve as a full-time missionary in the Ecuador Quito Mission. President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008), who was then First Counselor in the First Presidency, came to speak to all the missionaries in the MTC.
It was after the meeting that the hubbub began. I noticed that people weren’t filing to the doors, so I asked another elder what was going on.
“President Hinckley’s grandson is here at the MTC,” he said, “and President Hinckley just left the stand to give him a hug!”
With that explanation, the elder stepped onto his chair to get a better view, exclaiming, “Wow! Wouldn’t it be great to have President Hinckley as a grandpa?”
I loved and respected President Hinckley, and I had been inspired by his message that day. But in that moment I was struck by a thought that led me to sit on my chair rather than stand on it. In the middle of all that cheerful enthusiasm, I sat still and thought, “I’m sure it would be great to have President Hinckley as a grandpa. But I wouldn’t trade my Grandpa Felt or my Grandpa West for him.” I lifted my head and felt the warm embrace of gratitude as I reflected on my heritage, my family.
Then another thought came, more powerful than the first: “Besides, I am a son of God.” I knew that I, a grandson of a dentist and a factory supervisor, had just as much worth as a grandson of a prophet. Why? The two of us had the same Father in Heaven.
The other 2,999 missionaries eventually walked toward the doors of that large room. I joined them, more prepared to serve the Lord than I had been a few minutes earlier.

The YSA Gathering Place: My New Family, by Ganiyat Gbolahan
My first time at a YSA gathering as a nonmember was a memorable one. It was filled with endless teasing, fun, love, and laughter. I had no idea then that these incredible young people would become such a huge part of my life. After joining the Church, I began to feel truly blessed to have the YSAs around me. Their friendship became deeper, their love more sincere, and their support more constant.
This year, I experienced a very difficult moment, a major surgery that left me scared and vulnerable. But the YSAs showed up in the most powerful way. They prayed and fasted for me, and through their faith, I received blessings I couldn’t fully explain. My recovery was smoother than expected, and I felt surrounded by a sense of peace. I genuinely believe their prayers made a difference, not just physically but emotionally and spiritually too.
The love and support I felt during that time was unlike anything I had ever known. They stood by me like family, and in their actions, I saw the Savior’s love. I’m forever grateful for the YSA family that God placed in my life.

When the Book of Mormon was published, Martin Harris was nearly 47 years of age, more than 20 years older than Joseph Smith and the other two witnesses. He was a prosperous and respected citizen of Palmyra, New York. He owned a farm of over 240 acres, large for the time and place. He was an honored veteran of two battles in the War of 1812. His fellow citizens entrusted him with many elective offices and responsibilities in the community. He was universally respected for his industry and integrity. Assessments by contemporaries described him as “an industrious, hard-working farmer, shrewd in his business calculations, frugal in his habits,” and “strictly upright in his business dealings” (quoted in Richard Lloyd Anderson, Investigating the Book of Mormon Witnesses [1981], 96–97, 98).
This prosperous and upright older man befriended the young and penniless Joseph Smith, giving him the $50 that permitted him to pay his debts in Palmyra and locate in northeastern Pennsylvania, about 150 miles away. There, in April 1828, Joseph Smith began his first persistent translation of the Book of Mormon. He dictated, and Martin Harris wrote until there were 116 pages of manuscript.
Martin’s persistent requests to show this manuscript to his family wearied Joseph into letting him take it to Palmyra, where its pages were stolen from him, lost, and probably burned. For this the Lord rebuked Martin and Joseph. Joseph had his gift of translation suspended for a season, and Martin was rebuked as “a wicked man” who had “set at naught the counsels of God, and … broken the most sacred promises which were made before God” (D&C 3:12–13; see also D&C 10). Fortunately, both Joseph and Martin were later forgiven by the Lord, and the work of translation resumed with other scribes. We obviously honor Joseph for his magnificent ministry, but Martin’s subsequent faithfulness continues under a shadow from which this important man should be rescued.

Matt’s hero was his big brother Nate. Although Nate was ten years older than Matt, they were very good friends.
When Matt was seven, he wrote this essay for school:
Wouldn’t It Be Great If I Grew Up to Be Like My Big Brother?
Wouldn’t it be great if I grew up to be like my big brother? My big brother is an awesome basketball player. He can sink three-point shots, and he almost always makes his foul shots. He can really jump high, so he gets a lot of rebounds. My favorite thing is when he plays me a game of one-on-one. It is even fun to play when he beats me with all of his slam dunks. I’m glad I have such a neat big brother. I hope I can be the same kind of big brother to my little brother someday.
Matt still felt exactly the same way about his brother two years later, but along with those happy feelings were some feelings of sadness. Nate was nineteen now, and he had recently met with the bishop and stake president to send in his mission papers. Matt wanted Nate to serve a mission, but he knew that two years would seem like a very long time. He would really miss his brother.
When the mission-call envelope arrived in the mail, the family all sat around Nate. He read his call from the prophet:
You are hereby called to serve as a missionary of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. You are assigned to labor in the Brazil Florianopolis Mission. It is anticipated that you will serve for a period of twenty-four months.
Nate continued reading, but Matt didn’t hear the rest of the letter. All he understood was that his brother was going to go to a place Matt had never heard of and that he would be gone for two years. Matt knew that his family and Nate were excited, so he kept his sad feelings to himself and tried to share in the celebration.
The next few months were busy ones as everyone helped Nate prepare for his mission. They found maps and pictures of Brazil and hung them on the wall. Mom bought some tapes so that the family could all learn a few words of Portuguese. Nate bought a lot of white shirts and ties. Matt thought that Nate already looked like a missionary in his new suit.
Matt was very proud as Nate spoke in sacrament meeting on the Sunday before he was to leave. Matt felt all warm and fuzzy inside as Nate shared his testimony. As much as he was going to miss Nate, Matt knew that his brother was going to be an awesome missionary.
The day before Nate was to leave, Matt was out in the driveway, shooting a few hoops. He was trying to not feel sad, but tears were beginning to pool in his eyes.
“Hey, what’s up?” Nate asked as he rebounded the ball after Matt’s shot. Matt didn’t want Nate to see him cry, so he choked back the tears and challenged his older brother to a game.
Nate had noticed the tears in Matt’s eyes, though, and agreed to the game under one condition. “If I win, you have to make me a chocolate milk shake. Deal?”
“You’re on!” Matt grinned as he grabbed the ball, dribbled past Nate, and swished a three-point shot.
It was a hard-fought game, but Matt finally won by a point.
“Good game, champ!” Nate gave Matt a high five. “I hope that they have basketballs in Brazil so I can practice once in a while, or you’ll really skunk me in two years.”
Matt laughed, moving close to his big brother as they sat down under the shade of the apple tree in the backyard.
“I guess the treats are on me today.” Nate smiled as he handed Matt his favorite candy bar and pulled another from his pocket for himself.
“I was really hoping for a chocolate milk shake,” Nate said as he took the last bite of his candy bar. “I’m not sure I’ll get any of those in Brazil.”
Matt tried to smile, but a few tears slipped out of the corner of his eyes and down his cheeks.
Nate put his arm around his little brother. “I’ll be fine, champ. I think I’ll survive for two years without chocolate milk shakes.”
Matt smiled but couldn’t keep his voice from cracking. “You might survive without milk shakes, but I don’t know if I will survive without you.”
“Can I share a secret with you?” Nate said in a quiet voice.
Matt nodded.
“I’m really going to miss you and the rest of the family. I am also very nervous about going to a country so far away where they speak a different language.”
Matt was surprised. “If you’re nervous and scared, why are you going?”
Nate was quiet for a few moments. Then he said, “Champ, do you believe that President Hinckley is a true prophet of God?”
Matt nodded. “Sure I do.”
“Our prophet has said that all worthy young men should serve a mission. Even though I am nervous and know it will be very hard, I want to follow the prophet. If he says that the Lord wants me in Brazil, then I need to go.”
As Matt gave his brother a hug, he said, “I promise to write to you and pray for you. I really am glad that you are going on a mission.”
“I appreciate that, champ!” Nate wrapped his arms around Matt in a huge bear hug.
Although the next day, it was hard to tell his brother good-bye for two years, Matt thought that the Missionary Training Center was awesome. He had never seen so many missionaries, and he had a really warm, happy feeling inside while they were there. He knew that Nate would be all right.
After reading the letter, Matt sat down and wrote a letter to Nate. He told his brother how thankful he was that Nate was in Brazil, teaching people about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Matt also did some serious thinking. He didn’t want just to be a good basketball player like Nate when he grew up. He wanted to be like Nate and follow the prophet and be a good missionary, as well!

I once spoke in a sacrament meeting that I will long remember. The conducting officer, a member of the bishopric who introduced me as the speaker that evening, gave an unusual, rather lengthy introduction that went something like this:
“Brothers and sisters, Elder Ashton will undoubtedly be disappointed when he hears what I am going to say about him and about myself. I heard him say to a group of prisoners once, ‘When you fellows leave this prison and go back into a regular environment, don’t apologize or brag about being ex-convicts. Just go on from where you are.’ Well, many of you in the congregation don’t know it, but I am an ex-convict of the Utah State Prison. About six years ago, when I met Elder Ashton, he was in charge of the Church prison program under the Social Services Department. A few weeks later when I became better acquainted with him, I told him I was a pretty fair distance runner. I asked him if there was any chance for me to run in the Deseret News 24th of July marathon race. Elder Ashton encouraged me and said he would talk to the warden about my getting out for the day to participate in the race. He told me later that the warden agreed if Elder Ashton would take the responsibility for me. He assumed that responsibility and later told me he trusted me and expected me to make a good showing in the contest.
“I’ll never forget that marathon race in July 1971. It was hot, the course was challenging, and I wasn’t in the best of shape. My only preparation had been running around the prison grounds when I had free time. Halfway through the race I felt completely exhausted; my legs were sore, and blisters covered the bottoms of both my feet. I wanted to quit. I felt I couldn’t continue. Just as I was about to drop out, the thought flashed through my mind, ‘You can’t let Elder Ashton down. He’s counting on you.’ I finally made it into the city for the final laps around Liberty Park. Again I had the urge to stop. And again the impression came: ‘You can’t quit. You want Elder Ashton to be proud of you, don’t you?’
“Well, I finished the race. Not among the first 25, but I finished. I went right back to the prison after the race, according to my agreement. Elder Ashton told me he was proud of me for finishing the race and proud to have me for his friend. I don’t mind telling you that I was a little pleased with myself for one of the first times in my whole life.
“It wasn’t too long after the marathon race that I was released from prison. About a year later I met a lovely young lady; we had a good courtship, and some months after that Elder Ashton accompanied us to the temple and performed our marriage and sealed us for time and all eternity. Tonight, six years later, I am proud to be serving in your bishopric.”

This important truth was evidenced some years ago as a member of the Seventy was on assignment in Hong Kong. He visited a very humble ward that was struggling in many ways, unable to provide for its own needs. As the bishop described their situation, the General Authority felt the impression to have the members pay their tithing. The bishop, knowing their dire circumstances, was concerned about how he could carry out that counsel. He thought about it and decided he would approach some of the most faith-filled members of his ward and ask them to pay their tithing. The next Sunday he went to the Primary. He taught the children about the Lord’s law of tithing and asked if they would be willing to pay tithing on the money they earned. The children said they would. And they did.
The bishop later went to the adults in the ward and shared with them that for the past six months their faithful children had been paying tithing. He asked them if they would be willing to follow the example of these children and do the same. The people were so touched by the sacrifices the children were willing to make that they did what was necessary to pay their tithing. And the windows of heaven were opened. With the example of these faithful children, a ward grew in obedience and in testimony.

Hazel Price, a longstanding member of Aylesbury Ward, has always enjoyed singing, including singing in ward and stake choirs. It was in a rehearsal in her home ward where her ward music leader, Jill Neenan, became her singing tutor.
As Hazel began to develop her talent during her singing lessons, she was invited to join a newly formed community choir with Jill as the musical director. With over 100 members, The Wing Singers, allowed Hazel’s talent to thrive as she joined in as many public performances as possible—both within the main choir and in small ensembles.
During a lesson with Jill, Hazel shared that her lifelong dream was to be able to sing solo. Jill introduced ‘soirees’ after some of the regular choir evenings. These allowed Hazel and others to try something different in a safe environment and led to Jill encouraging Hazel to study for her grade 5 music theatre exam. This brought together two of her loves in life, singing and costume making!
Being a member of the Church had given Hazel the opportunity to develop her skills over the years when making costumes for various roadshows in the Watford Stake; with her support, Aylesbury Ward had won the best costumes award many times.
Solo-singing opportunities began to appear, on a few occasions at a local care home in 2016. Then she stepped on to the stage as a solo singer for the first time in January 2017. She helped raise funds for the Stoke Mandeville Hospital Scan Appeal at the Wing Musicathon. She performed “With One Look” from Sunset Boulevard in front of about 100 people, most of whom she didn’t know! The year of 2017 also saw Hazel taking her grade 5 musical theatre singing exam, which she passed with merit.
Having accepted the challenge in February 2018 to enter her first competition—the Milton Keynes Festival of the Arts and Drama—she performed two songs within two categories: musical theatre and operetta. She was accompanied by her tutor and performed in front of about 30 people, most of whom were also there to compete.
Jill persuaded Hazel to perform in her costumes and with the props she had made and used for her exam. Hazel recalled, “Being the only one in costumes, I stood out like a sore thumb! I admit I felt rather unnerved, but I ploughed on. I got excellent feedback and an award for my rendition of ‘I’m Called Little Buttercup’, the adjudicator enjoying the fun that was portrayed, which was in keeping with it being from HMS Pinafore.”
In 2021, despite not being able to meet up in person with her choir or her mentor, Hazel decided to again enter the Milton Keynes Festival of the Arts and Drama competition again. COVID-19 lockdown regulations demanded video entries. Hazel rose to the challenge, practising while being recorded by her teenage son to ensure she could submit her best possible video. She and her son had to overcome obstacles, hunting around the house for the optimum lighting and sound.
Hazel was especially concerned when she discovered that the videos would be put online so everyone could watch them. Hazel said, “This threw me. It was not as bad as when I did my first public solo for charity, but I admit I didn’t do so well then. However, I was determined I would send in my entry, so I submitted it despite knowing the errors I had made and the cooker alarm going off in the background. However, I did ask them not to put my video online if it was just too embarrassing.”
She continued, “I was convinced I did not have a chance to win a place at all. I had not been able to have lessons for many months, so I resigned myself to not participating in the competition. I also wondered if it was likely to go ahead due to the current global situation. In addition, I was stepping right out of my comfort zone by singing ‘a cappella’ (i.e., unaccompanied by music). This was something I had to do because I had no suitable accompaniment or backing track.”
She explained that while some might say when singing a cappella that it allowed them to sing in their way (any errors being intended), it is not so. Each entrant was required to send in a copy of the sheet music for this competition, so the adjudicators knew exactly what singing was intended. Furthermore, without a backing track, there is nothing to hide any errors. Hazel informed the adjudicators that she did not wait out the musical interludes but allowed the song to flow, which was approved of in their feedback.
Hazel waited anxiously for the results. She shared, “I like this competition for amateur singers, on a comparable basis to why I love being a member of The Wing Singers—it is open to all ages and all abilities. From what I can tell, you do not have to live locally to enter. The competition covers music, dance, drama; and the website is already showing details of 2022 competition.”
She confided that joining The Wing Singers choir and entering this competition twice is all part of a journey. The entry for 2021 was very different from her entry in 2018. This time she had no encouragement, not even her singing tutor. Hazel did not even tell her tutor until after she had sent in her submission. This journey was part of her need to support herself and celebrate her attempting hard things, for managing her reaction to obstacles, and overcoming her deep-rooted negativity and self-doubt.
“Encouragement and praise were not something experienced in my home life as a child, quite the contrary—it was full of abuse, shame and negativity in many forms, most of which I blocked out for about half of my life. For the other half of my life, I have been learning about the abuse, the effects on me, my character, confidence, and self-worth.
“In the short time between the competition deadline and my 60th birthday, I happened to see a video on social media that helped me understand me more than anything else has done in my life, especially when dealing with putting up barriers and not achieving all that I hope to. It also, briefly, left me with the feeling that I cannot change; that I could never succeed.
“So, as I look back at this now, knowing all the mistakes and everything else surrounding my entry, I feel I have done some good in starting to break down another barrier and push against Satan and all the negativity I can be bombarded with.”
Finally, Hazel had news of the competition results. When the envelope arrived, she was happy to see the positive feedback. From experience, she knew that awards are always genuine, as is the feedback.
“I was delighted … but not as delighted as I was when I went to return the feedback page in the envelope and realised on the other side was a certificate! I was extremely excited to see I had been awarded 2nd place, with commendation, in my chosen category.”
So, what next for Hazel? She adds, “In 2019 my singing tutor talked with me and a few other students about setting up a troupe to go into care homes, hospitals and possibly schools. The idea is to perform with costumes and props and make it as entertaining and engaging as possible. … I would love to see this happen. For me, it would be another step in the right direction. I look forward to getting back on track with my next singing exam, and yes, I will compete again next year—with an accompanist.
“My accomplishments in life may not seem very grand compared to others, but I know Heavenly Father is aware of me, all I have been through and all the lessons and learning I have had during the COVID-19 pandemic. As I look back on my life, I realise I have lived in fear for almost everything. However, I also know that as long as I stay close to Heavenly Father and make the most of any opportunities I may get, He will continue to help me change, to heal and become all that He would like me to be.”

They started to raise their family from a very humble single attic-room apartment in the heart of Amsterdam. After several years of washing their clothes by hand, they had finally saved up enough money to purchase a washing machine. Just before they would make the purchase, the bishop visited them, asking for a contribution to build the meetinghouse in Amsterdam. They decided to give all they had saved for the washing machine and continued to do the laundry by hand. As a family we went through some hardships, just like any other family. These have only made us stronger and have deepened our faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, just like when Alma was sharing his story with his son Helaman, where he told him that he had been “supported under trials and troubles of every kind” because he had put his trust in the Lord Jesus Christ. How did two people who experienced so many trials in their younger years become the very best parents I could ever wish for? The answer is simple: they fully embraced the gospel and live by their covenants to this very day! After more than 65 years of marriage, my mother, who suffered from Alzheimer’s disease, passed away in February. My father, at the age of 92 and still living at home, visited her as often as he could until she passed away. Some time ago he mentioned to my younger siblings that the dreadful experiences in the camp in Indonesia during World War II had prepared him to patiently care for his wife for so many years as she fell ill and deteriorated from this horrible disease and also for the fateful day he had to entrust her primary care to others and could not be by her side anymore. Their motto has been and still is to “Just carry on,” having a perfect hope in Christ to be raised up at the last day and to dwell with Him in glory forever.

When I was eight years old, the missionaries met my grandmother and aunt on the street. After learning about the gospel, we were all baptized. In 2020, however, we had to stop going to church because of COVID. We eventually stopped believing.
Two years ago, I didn’t even believe in God or know if He was real. One day after school, I wanted to cross the street to buy a snack. But a voice told me to not cross the street. I stopped, and two cars crashed right in front of me. If I had crossed the street, the cars would have hit me or maybe killed me. I knew then that God knew me and loved me. Even though I didn’t believe in Him and wasn’t attending church at the time, He still loved me and protected me.
I started to read the Book of Mormon again and came to know that it is God’s word. I started going back to church too. When I go to church, I feel peace, God’s love, and His help. I feel that He’s always with me, and that makes me happy.
My favorite hymn is “I Am a Child of God” because it reminds me that Heavenly Father loves us and helps us. I also like the scripture 2 Nephi 2:27, which talks about how we are free to choose between right and wrong.
Many months ago, my brother started coming to church with me, but after a while he stopped. He worries about what his friends and others will think of him. He thinks that it’s shameful to go to our church, but I tell him that it doesn’t matter what friends think. It’s what God thinks that matters.
My family doesn’t go to church. I go alone. Because my street doesn’t have a bus to the Church building, I walk about 30 minutes to get there. My family worries what other people will think about them, but I say that it doesn’t matter because I know it’s true.
When I meet with my friends, they sometimes drink coffee. And when I see that, sometimes I want to drink coffee too. But I remember that God is with me. He holds my hand and helps me. I hear a voice that tells me not to do it, and I know that God is helping me overcome these challenges.
It’s hard to attend church without her family, but Nara knows that God loves and blesses her. He even protected her from a car accident once.
If I were to give advice to someone in my situation, I would say to them that you are so blessed, and you have a lot of faith. You are not alone, because the Church members and missionaries can give you good advice. God loves you. You are His son or daughter, and He wants to help you.

My father worked long and hard practically every day of his life. I’m certain that on the Sabbath he would have enjoyed just being at home. Rather, he visited elderly family members and brought cheer into their lives.
One was his uncle, who was crippled by arthritis so severe that he could not walk or care for himself. On a Sunday afternoon Dad would say to me, “Come along, Tommy; let’s take Uncle Elias for a short drive.” Boarding the old 1928 Oldsmobile, we would proceed to Eighth West, where, at the home of Uncle Elias, I would wait in the car while Dad went inside. Soon he would emerge from the house, carrying his crippled uncle in his arms like a china doll. I then would open the door and watch how tenderly and with what affection my father would place Uncle Elias in the front seat so that he would have a fine view, while I occupied the rear seat.
The drive was brief and the conversation limited, but oh, what a legacy of love! Father never read to me from the Bible about the good Samaritan. Rather, he took me with him and Uncle Elias in that old 1928 Oldsmobile along the road to Jericho.