Gospel Story Finder

It was Friday night and football season at my high school. As drum major of the marching band, I was having a great time cheering with the band and directing stand tunes. Then things changed drastically when I heard a desperate cry: “Get help! Jeff has stopped breathing!”
I found Jeff, a tuba player, lying across a bleacher, slipping in and out of consciousness and gasping for breath. Suddenly the all-important football game faded from significance. My number-one priority was to get help for Jeff. Paramedics arrived, and it wasn’t until after Jeff was safely on his way to the hospital that I even thought about checking the scoreboard.
After the game I realized that too many times in my own life I have allowed myself to get so involved in a fun yet unimportant event of life that I failed to recognize someone’s spiritual cry for help. During the football game it bothered me to watch Jeff struggle for breath and hear the cheers and laughter of fans that had no idea that anything was wrong.

Perhaps the most cherished Christmas of my youth was the year our family joined with aunts, uncles, and cousins to donate clothing, food, toys, eyeglasses, and appliances to a local family in need. I’ll never forget being part of the large caravan that brought Christmas to their home. That feeling continued long after Christmas passed and the grateful expressions of the mother and her four children remain in my memory. Serving that family allowed God’s love to “[shed] itself abroad” (1 Nephi 11:22) in my heart.

In the village where my wife grew up, her parents, who were good churchgoing people, embraced the gospel as a young married couple with my wife as their two-year-old daughter and only child at that time. Their decision to become members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints had a great impact on their lives as they were shunned by the villagers and by their family. It took many years, loving notes to family members, and service to the community before they were finally accepted.
On one occasion when my wife’s father was serving as a bishop, he was falsely accused of something and was immediately released. My mother-in-law was so hurt that she asked her husband if they should continue to go to church. He answered that they of course would continue to go to church since this is not the church of men, but this is the Church of Jesus Christ.
It took some time before the truth came to light and apologies were made. What could have been their breaking point just added to their strength and conviction.

A lovely lady of more than 90 years visited with me one day and unexpectedly recounted several regrets. She mentioned that many years earlier a neighboring farmer, with whom she and her husband had occasionally disagreed, asked if he could take a shortcut across her property to reach his own acreage. She paused in her narrative and, with a tremor in her voice, said, “Tommy, I didn’t let him cross our property but required him to take the long way around—even on foot—to reach his property. I was wrong and I regret it. He’s gone now, but oh, I wish I could say to him, ‘I’m so sorry.’ How I wish I had a second chance.”

As I listened to her, words written by John Greenleaf Whittier came to my mind: “Of all sad words of tongue or pen, / The saddest are these: ‘It might have been!’”

I have seen many acts of kindness working with these people and not just from the volunteers. I like to help at the cake stand at the soup kitchen, and it’s always tricky with to open the bags we put the cakes in while wearing rubber gloves. One of the homeless men saw me struggling and came to help. Now, every week, he always opens the paper bags for us. When I asked him why he helps, he said, “I just wanted to do something.” That struck a chord with me. He just wanted to help in any way he could and being able to help someone made him feel needed and useful. On my mission, I will try to have that drive. I will try to be like Jesus Christ in any way I can.

Amelia liked visiting Grandma. She liked playing with the toy animals, especially with Grandma’s soft stuffed bunny. But today wasn’t for playing. Today was for helping.
On the way to Grandma’s house, Amelia’s sisters talked about which jobs they wanted to do.
Sarah wanted to sweep. Emily wanted to mop. And Mom asked Alyssa to clean the windows.
“What about me?” Amelia asked. “Should I help dust?”
“I have a special job for you,” Mom said. “I need you to listen.”
Amelia waited. “OK, I’m listening. What is it?”
“That’s the job!” Mom said with a laugh. “Just listen. Sit with Grandma and listen while she talks. It might be the most important job we do all day.”
How could listening be the most important job? Amelia wondered. It seemed like dusting would be more of a real job! But Amelia was willing to try.
Grandma was glad to see them. Everyone else got started on their jobs. Amelia went and sat next to Grandma on the couch. Amelia noticed the stuffed bunny in the corner. “I like your rabbit,” she said.
Grandma smiled. “Did I ever tell you about my brother Mel and the baby bunny?”
Amelia was surprised. “A real bunny?”
Grandma nodded. “It was an orphan he found. He snuggled it inside his shirt so it would be safe.” Grandma told Amelia about the rabbit pen Mel built.
That story reminded Grandma of other stories. She told about a pet calf she named Star. She used to ride on Star’s back! Amelia giggled as she pictured Grandma riding a baby cow. It wasn’t easy imagining Grandma as a little girl.
Grandma talked and talked. She told the rabbit story again. Another time, she even stopped in the middle of a story and started over.
Amelia tried to keep listening, but she was getting tired. Mom and the other girls were still working. It was hard to sit and listen! But Grandma smiled. She seemed happy to be sharing her stories.
A few minutes later, Mom came in. “All done! We’re ready go.”
“That was so nice,” Grandma told Amelia. “I love visiting with you!”
Amelia gave her grandma a big hug. She saw tears in Grandma’s eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Amelia asked.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Grandma said. “Thank you for talking with me. I love you.”
Amelia felt warm all the way inside. “I love you too,” she said. “I’ll come again soon.”
On the way home, Alyssa asked, “How was listening, Amelia?”
“It was harder than I thought. I think I was done listening before Grandma was done talking!”
“You were terrific!” Mom said.
“Thanks,” Amelia said. “Some of the stories she told were fun. Did you know Grandma had a pet calf?”
“Really?” Sarah asked.
“Yeah! Grandma used to ride it,” Amelia said, nodding. “Its name was Star.”
Amelia told them all of Grandma’s other stories. It was pretty cool to learn so much about her.
Emily grinned. “Maybe you could trade me jobs next time. I want a chance to listen!”

Eighteen years ago, during my first visit to general conference as a new stake president, I learned a valuable lesson in punctuality. I wanted to visit all the Church departments, which at that time were spread over a wide area of Salt Lake City. Above all I had an earnest desire to meet President David O. McKay. I inquired whether it would be possible to see the prophet for just a few minutes and was delighted when I was told to return at 1:30 P.M. for this great privilege. My heart sang as I made other visits during the morning, and the time passed very quickly.
Suddenly I looked at my watch and was horrified to see that it was almost the appointed time. I literally ran to the Church Administration Building, arriving red-faced and breathless. Imagine my feelings when I was told, “By being one minute late you may have missed a golden opportunity.” Those words still ring in my ears, even though I was subsequently able to meet President McKay.

When I returned from my mission, I met a beautiful young woman with long black hair down to her waist. She had beautiful, big honey eyes and a contagious smile. She captivated me from the first moment I saw her.
My wife had set the goal to get married in the temple, although back then the nearest temple required a trip of over 4,000 miles (6,400 km).
Our civil marriage ceremony was both happy and sad, for we were married with an expiration date. The officer pronounced the words “And now I declare you husband and wife,” but immediately after, he said, “until death do you part.”
So with sacrifice we set out to purchase a one-way ticket to the Mesa Arizona Temple.
In the temple, as we were kneeling down at the altar, an authorized servant pronounced the words I longed for, which declared us husband and wife for time and for all eternity.

During a particularly difficult time, I was feeling quite unsettled. Actually, pretty desperate for the Lord’s help. By this point in my life, I knew Jesus Christ: who He was, and what He had done for me. I had faith that He could help me and would provide comfort.
I trusted Him. So I went in prayer, utilizing the power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ for relief.
Brothers and sisters, it took me a long time, well into my adulthood, to learn how the power of the Atonement works for me. But in that moment of prayer, as I asked God to lift my burden so I could set aside my grief and my concerns and focus on the tasks that I had before me, I felt immediate relief, and I felt this wise counsel, “You know where to find peace.”

Carlos knows that sacrifice brings blessings.
“My brother Set and I have autism. This made it really hard for me to study in school. Then my mom invited us to read the scriptures in the mornings as a family, and it helped me so much. It gave me a boost in school and helped me be self-sufficient.
“Another time, I didn’t want to go to a youth conference because I was really busy with a class in school. But I went, and I felt like I was blessed to do better in the class than I thought I would. Because of these experiences, I postponed my university studies and am preparing to go on a mission. I know that sacrifice will help me again.”

“Before speaking at a Primary devotional recently in Anchorage, Alaska, I asked some of my grandchildren what I should share with other children around their age.
“‘Pa, tell them that you know Jesus and that He loves them,’ they responded.
“I took their suggestion to heart and made sure to promise each of those children that they are known by name by Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost. I also shared with them that God loves them.
“The truths I shared with these precious children are the same truths I share with each of you.
“Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ love us so much. We are God’s children. We should share this important truth with everyone we know. We are never really alone. In Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, we have constant friendship and support.”
Elder Ronald A. Rasband, Facebook, July 12, 2022, facebook.com/RonaldARasband.

Cindy Shufeldt of Jackson, Wyoming, demonstrates the missionary potential of the New Era in her letter: “The New Era really brightens my day. Just recently I read one through from cover to cover and then lent it to a girl friend. She quickly devoured every word, and then I took it to my place of employment—the Jackson Hole Playhouse Theatre—where it was passed around one evening. One of the guys in the cast adopted it, and I haven’t seen it since! I am an investigator of the Church, and I can’t express in words how much the New Era has helped me in my studies. In fact, you may wish to know that I plan to be baptized.”

Two years into my actuarial and financial mathematics degree, I had a strong prompting to go on a mission. I chose to serve, even though I would potentially forfeit certain college credits that had to be taken consecutively.
A short while later, as I read my mission call to the Utah Salt Lake City Central Mission, the moment felt surreal. I didn’t know anybody who had served in Salt Lake City. I thought maybe I had opened the wrong mission call. When I arrived in Salt Lake City, I felt that everything I knew had been taken away. I found myself on a bicycle in the snow without any idea of how to be a missionary. With its different culture and climate, Salt Lake City felt as far away from South Africa as I could have traveled.
In my first area, my companion and I visited a member named Chris Ruppel for dinner. He asked if either of us knew music. My companion mentioned that I played piano and sang, so I sang a song for the family. Then something special happened. Brother Ruppel looked at me and said, “Elder Vizzini, if you keep singing like that, you will be a successful missionary.” I thought that was sweet of him but didn’t think much of it.
A few months later, with Brother Ruppel, I helped organize a musical missionary fireside. In every area I served thereafter, we used this same fireside structure. Many people participated with us, from stake members to well-known local musicians and members of other faiths. We taught about the Savior through music to people who otherwise would not have wanted to sit through a lesson. I learned that music could touch both the poor and the wealthy, the educated and the uneducated.
My mission taught me that I can do hard things. As I served in an area so far away and so different from my home, I learned that everybody is a child of God. I have seen miracles in people’s lives on the other side of the world in Utah, and I have seen them here in South Africa. I know that if we just have faith, miracles can happen in each of our lives (see Mormon 9:15–21).

Newell B. Stevenson, a lifelong friend of Elder Faust, recalls that Butler Hill was also the local ski resort. “We used to go skiing there,” he relates. “That was back in the days when we didn’t know what ski boots and ski bindings and all those sorts of things were. We built ourselves a jump, and if you had a little good luck, you made it all the way down to the bottom. Of course, once you got to the bottom of the hill, you had to walk back up. Once Jim (Elder Faust) lost a ski and fell hard and broke his collarbone.
“We used to swim together a lot during the summer at a cold-water, spring-fed lake near our home. If we could have spent our lives there, we would have. A couple of times we went there in the early spring and dared each other to get into the water. We were so cold we got out in a hurry!”
Other sports also attracted Elder Faust’s interest, especially football and track. His father was his most ardent supporter. In recalling those days, Brother Stevenson said, “I don’t think I ever went to an athletic event that those Faust kids were in when their father wasn’t there to support them.
“Even as a boy—but particularly when we got into our teens—Jim was the spiritual leader of our group. We did everything together, and I have to give him a lot of credit for keeping us out of trouble. He wasn’t overbearing, domineering, or falsely pious—he just always did what was right.”
“It is wonderful to be a parent and a grandparent,” Elder Faust declared. He and his wife, Ruth, have five children—three sons and two daughters—and sixteen grandchildren.
Stressing the importance of the influence of parents and grandparents, Elder Faust counseled, “Boys and girls, have confidence in the direction and counsel and advice of your parents and grandparents who love you more than anybody else in the world does. They always have your interest at heart. I have sometimes questioned the advice and direction I received from my parents and grandparents, but I never questioned the fact that they loved me. I learned that they were in a better position to know more about right and wrong than I did from my limited understanding and from my limited experience.”

I grew up as an only child, raised by a single mother. We moved a lot. I remember feeling like I had no stability or a place to call home. When I was a senior in high school, my mother moved to California and I stayed behind in Utah, hoping to find some stability in my life.
I moved in with some relatives. I came and went as I pleased, and I never had to check in with anyone. Sounds like every teenager’s dream, right? It wasn’t for me, and it wasn’t the stability I was hoping for. I still felt like I didn’t belong. I felt alone.
I put on a brave, happy face during the day, but at night I often found myself parked in a Church parking lot listening to Church music in tears. I began to have this desperate feeling to know that God truly existed.
“Heavenly Father, I want to know that Thou dost exist. I am lost. I feel alone. I want to know for myself. I so desperately need to know.”
Silence. All I heard was silence.
That peace and comfort never came. I always left feeling defeated, like I had wasted my time in prayer. The prayers I offered up those nights in my car, in tears, always seemed to go unanswered. There always seemed to be … silence.
Over the next several years, I still felt alone, but despite those prayers that seemed to go unanswered, I still had faith that God existed.
When I met the man who became my husband, I finally felt a sense of belonging and stability—a sense of home. His family welcomed me wholeheartedly. That was a big deal for me because I had longed for those feelings for so long. When we married in the temple, I felt so much joy in joining a family centered on the gospel.
I loved seeing priesthood blessings being given at home, attending church in my husband’s mother’s ward with dinner in her orchard to follow, and listening to sweet music playing from her kitchen window as we all sat, ate, and talked. These experiences took root in my heart and began to fill a void that so needed to be filled. This family unit was just what I needed, and God knew it. But He wasn’t finished answering those late-night prayers.
I sat with my mother-in-law on her porch one morning. She said something that was so meaningful to me. For the first time in my life, I heard the Spirit testifying to me that Heavenly Father really existed.
“When you know Heavenly Father is really there,” she said, “everything changes.”
From there, everything did change! My testimony grew as I sought to know more. Now I know when the Spirit speaks to me. I know that sweet feeling when He is near.
One day I read an inspiring question on social media that asked, “Where will you meet the Lord today?”
I “met” Him through a spiritual impression that came to me as I walked along a trail near our home several years after I got married. I stopped walking and wrote down the impression. I saw myself all those years ago, sitting alone in the Church parking lot and understood that, back then, God saw what I couldn’t.
What I couldn’t see then was that one day God would show me who He was through my future mother-in-law, whom I had not met yet. He could see that I would gain a bond with her that would build and strengthen me in ways I had never known before.
He was answering me way back when, but I didn’t hear it. He saw the big picture, and I didn’t. I couldn’t see His plans for me. In that moment on my walk, He gently impressed upon my heart what He had had in store for me all along.
When I hear my mother-in-law pray or speak of her steadfast love for her Savior, I can feel her testimony. Being blessed to become one of her daughters is a special gift from God. Her testimony is also a gift from God that blesses all our lives. I know that my Savior lives because she has spent her whole life drawing near to Him. She radiates His reality for all to see.
“To some it is given by the Holy Ghost to know that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, and that he was crucified for the sins of the world.
“To others it is given to believe on their words, that they also might have eternal life if they continue faithful.”
Doctrine and Covenants 46:13–14.

In secular history there is another great military leader who was known for her righteousness. She was Joan of Arc from France. Joan was born 600 years ago in 1412. She is famous because, as a teenager, she led the French army to victory during the Hundred Years War. Every description that I have ever read of her tells about how virtuous, honest, loving, kind, loyal, and courageous she was. Joan was also a devout Christian during a time described by one author as brutal, wicked and rotten. She also claimed to have visions which told her that she would lead France to victory. At the end of her short but illustrious military career Joan was betrayed and turned over to her enemies. In a corrupt trial she was tried for witchcraft and convicted. She was sentenced to be burned at the stake. As they prepared to execute her, those in charge gave Joan one last chance to save her life if she would simply deny that she had seen visions. Of course, Joan would not deny her spiritual experiences, even if it meant losing her life. According to one account, this was the last statement she made before she was burned to death.
“The world can use these words. I know this now. Every man gives his life for what he believes; every woman gives her life for what she believes. Sometimes people believe in little or nothing, and yet they give their lives for that little or nothing. One life is all we have, and we live it as we believe it, and then it’s gone. But to surrender what you are and live without belief is more terrible than dying, even more terrible than dying young.”
Thus, ended the life of one of the most inspirational military leaders in the history of the world. We might ask, why was she successful in battle? Why were soldiers willing to risk their lives to follow her in war? It’s because she lived according to what she believed. It’s because she was righteous. It’s because she kept the commandments.

Kristina sat on the milk stool in front of the fireplace, warming her hands.
“Remember, tonight is the night for our family hour,” Mama Brigham said as she stirred the stew in the big black kettle.
“Do we have to have it?” Kristina asked.
“Kristina Margaret Brigham!” Mama exclaimed. “You know what President Young has told us about having our family hour!”
“But with all of the little kids, it isn’t much fun,” Kristina complained.
Kristina, twelve, was the oldest of six girls, and it seemed to her that Papa always prepared the evening for the younger ones. It’s always the same old thing, Kristina thought as she got the plates out of the pie safe.
After dinner Kristina sat obediently in the big rocker. Lucky Carolyn, she thought, her father doesn’t make them have family hour!
“Tonight,” Papa began, “we’re going to talk about the Indians.”
Kristina sat back in the chair, trying to hide her boredom.
Father continued, “You know President Young has told us to share with the Indians. The missionaries have been teaching them our ways, but to show that we want to be their friends, we should also learn some of their ways. Tonight we’re going to learn some of their sign language.”
Kristina only half listened as Papa showed them the signs and explained what they meant. She wished President Young hadn’t told families to have an hour each week where important things could be discussed and everyone could grow and learn together. Kristina didn’t think Indian language was something she needed to know. The Indians came to Dover only when they were hungry or when there had been trouble. They hadn’t been near for over a year. And there were so many other things she’d like to be doing.
That night as Kristina was getting ready for bed, Mama stopped her. “Kristina,” she said, “remember, tomorrow is the day I want you to take the bread, butter, and cheese to Sister Adams. She is still sick.”
“I remember,” Kristina smiled. “I’m even glad. I wanted to go riding tomorrow anyway. I asked Carolyn to go with me.”
“It’s a long trip. I wish your father could go, but he’s too busy this time of year. Thank you for going.”
The next morning Kristina got up with the sun, as usual. The small room was cold, so she quickly threw on her clothes and ran downstairs to warm herself by the big fireplace.
“Your papa keeps promising a stove,” Mama said, as she stirred the mush in the big kettle. “I hope it comes soon.”
“It will, Mama,” Kristina said, as she kissed her mother on the cheek and started to set the table.
Kristina rode alone for nearly a mile on a narrow dirt path before she reached the Larson cabin, where she stopped for Carolyn.
It was a ten-mile ride through sagebrush-covered hills to the Adams’ cabin. The girls laughed, sang, and played games. Before they knew it, they saw Brother Adams chopping wood in front of his cabin.
They found Sister Adams sitting up in bed. “Well, hello!” she welcomed them. “It’s so good to see you.
“Stay for lunch,” Sister Adams insisted. “You’re the only visitors I’ve had since I took sick, and you must keep me company.”
“Well, only if you let us cook,” Kristina said.
Soon the girls had the fire going, and the sweet smell of beef stew filled the cabin. Brother and Sister Adams were so much fun that Kristina and Carolyn forgot all about the time.
Kristina was surprised to see the sun setting as she threw the dishwater out the door.
“We were enjoying you girls so much that I forgot to pay attention to the time,” Brother Adams said. “It’s so late, maybe I’d better ride back with you.”
“We know the way,” Kristina said. “We’ll be fine.”
Brother Adams glanced at his wife, and she nodded her head. Then he explained, “The people south of here have been having Indian trouble. I think I’d better go with you.”
“We’re going north,” Kristina answered, “and we’ll be just fine.”
Brother Adams still hesitated, but finally he let the girls go alone. They rode as fast as they could while there was still some daylight, but when darkness came, they had to slow down. “I can’t even see the path!” Carolyn admitted.
“I know where we are. Don’t worry,” Kristina said. “See that light way over there. That’s home.”
“Good!” Carolyn answered as she urged her horse into a trot.
The girls rode a little further and then came to a stream. “We didn’t cross a stream this morning,” Carolyn exclaimed.
“We are just going a different way,” Kristina explained. “What else could that light be?”
Soon they were close enough to see that what they had thought was a light of home turned out to be a campfire. No one was near so the girls looked around. Suddenly five Indians jumped from behind some bushes. Carolyn screamed as two of the Indians grabbed her.
Kristina kept outwardly clam, remembering Papa’s words, “They are our friends.” Her throat was dry and her hands and knees were shaking. Then she remembered something Papa had said at family hour. With shaking hands she carefully motioned to them in sign language, “I am your friend.”
The tall Indian said something to the others. The only word Kristina understood was Mormon. They put Carolyn down, and the tall one made the sign that said “friend.” Kristina nodded her head.
“Go!” he said in English. Kristina could not remember anything else from the family hour. Oh, I wish I had listened last night, she thought. All she could think to do was shrug her shoulders and nod her head, but somehow the Indians seemed to know what she meant.
The tall Indian got on his horse and signaled for the girls to follow him.
“Where is he taking us?” Carolyn’s voice shook.
“I don’t know. But they’re our friends,” Kristina said. “Let’s just follow him.”
Finally they reached the top of a hill. At the bottom the girls could see a cluster of cabins. The Indians stopped and pointed.
“Oh, thank you!” Kristina said. She could feel the tears starting down her cheeks as she spurred her horse on. Carolyn’s parents were waiting at the Brigham cabin with Kristina’s family.
“Oh, Kristina,” Mama Brigham cried as she hugged her daughter. “I’m so glad you’re home!”
Quickly the girls told their story. Father Brigham smiled. “We’ve always treated the Indians fairly. They know we wouldn’t burn their village. We’re friends, so they helped you.”
“How did they know we’re Mormons?” Carolyn asked.
“We’ve reached out to them as friends in many ways, one of which is by learning some of their language,” Papa answered. “That’s why we talked about it last night at our family hour.”
“You know,” Brother Larson said, “I haven’t been having my family hour, but we’re going to start it this very night.”

Brother Robert Stum, who was the cameraman on that project and who has since been responsible for filming many dozens of films, told us what happened as he stood at the side of the rail line to film that very precious shot of the old vintage train coming around the bend. They could not afford to hire the train for more than a couple of hours, so every shot had to be just right. And, he said, as it came around the corner he was so filled with emotion that tears filled his eyes and he could not see a thing through the camera sight. He thought that the whole thing was ruined; but the Lord was there and helping him, and when they developed the film it was exactly as it should have been, even though he could not see because of the tears that filled his eyes on that occasion.

The evening before each of the temple dedications took place, magnificent cultural events were held. In Curitiba, Brazil, 4,330 members from the temple district, supported by a choir of 1,700 voices, presented a most inspirational program through song, dance, and video. The enormous soccer stadium where the event took place was filled with spectators. The wind had been blowing, and rain threatened. I offered a silent prayer asking Heavenly Father to look with mercy upon those who had prepared so diligently for our entertainment and whose costumes and presentations would be damaged if a heavy rain or wind enveloped them. He honored that prayer, and it wasn’t until the end of the show and later on that evening that rain fell in abundance.

There was Ted, for instance, who had been the great guilt-inflicter during those Halloween nights when we used to smash pumpkins just because we didn’t have anything better to do. “Sure, go ahead and destroy some kid’s pride and joy,” he’d object, as my braver friends and I left to tromp through the dark neighborhoods, hot on the trail of Mr. Jack-o’lantern. Ted’s unusual sensibility had always puzzled me. After all, I was nearly four months his senior, and I thought that kind of judgment belonged to older people who were married and had children of their own.
My thoughts were suddenly interrupted when Bryce, the bold one, let out a scream and jumped off the cliff. It wasn’t a graceful takeoff, but it got the job done. I watched him flip like a fish as he fell through the sky, and I heard the distant splash when he hit the water. “You’ve got to try it!” he yelled as he pulled himself into the boat. It was a direct challenge.
I looked around and found my three buddies smiling at me. My stomach went sour. It was then I realized that jumping from a 90-foot cliff wasn’t such a hot idea. But how could I pull out now? They’d never let me live it down.
Just when I was about to jump, I was interrupted by Kelly, who barked out an obscenity and took off. We never saw him hit the water, but heard him crying as the others pulled him into the boat.’ His knees had slammed together upon impact, and he would be in a cast for the rest of the summer, following surgery on both knees.
The three of us who remained were now scared to death, but we wouldn’t admit it. I remember thinking about my acceptance to BYU, and about my plans to serve a mission after my freshman year. For the first time that day, I began to think of the consequences of making the jump. What if I became seriously injured? Was impressing my friends really that important?
“Fifty percent chance you make it and fifty percent chance you get hurt,” Bryce impatiently yelled at me from below. That was comforting.
I slowly walked back from the edge, then raced toward it, lifting my body off the ground as I soared into the warm sky. I looked immediately down and found the water racing toward me. I waved my arms to maintain balance.
My entry into the water was like an explosion, and I heard my back snap. As I sank through the water, I became aware that I couldn’t move my body. I felt as though my lungs would explode as I slowly floated to the surface, only to hear my friends laughing at the expression on my face.
Ted was the first to realize I was in pain, and he told the others to stop laughing as I was pulled into the boat. I mentioned something about the pain in my back as they laid me down next to the already-injured Kelly, and I was soon whimpering right along with him.
Kelly and I watched in bewilderment as the remaining two contemplated their own jumps. Despite unfavorable odds, each of them made the leap—successfully.
Since no doctors were within 100 miles of us, I decided to finish the trip with my friends. I lay in a tent for two days, shocked at my stupidity. I was only 18, yet I had risked my life for the sake of “entertainment.”
The doctor who examined my back said I had a compression-fracture which would cause arthritis throughout my life, but I still considered myself very lucky.
For nearly four years I had wandered carelessly through a world of smashed pumpkins and crazy dives. I hadn’t stopped to consider what effect my actions were having on other people, or on myself. I had been a thrill seeker who never had to face the consequences until that fateful day when I’d almost given my life just to impress my friends. It took a crash through Lake Powell’s waters to plunge me from my fantasy world into a world of reality and responsibility.