Gospel Story Finder

In 1846 at Council Bluffs, Iowa, the United States government made an appeal to President Brigham Young for 500 able-bodied men to form a battalion and travel to California to offer protection in the Mexican War. John Borrowman accepted the call and enlisted as a private in Company B. At a farewell devotional, President Young prophesied that the men of the Mormon Battalion would never have to face the enemy in battle—a prophecy that proved true, in spite of the odds against it. Still, the men had many struggles. Perhaps the greatest challenges of all were the mountain deserts that yielded little water and food. Yet, in spite of harsh conditions, they followed their leaders faithfully and with valor. As prophesied, they never faced a human enemy in battle, although they did encounter a herd of rampaging wild bulls and dubbed the conflict “the Battle of the Bulls.”
Their supplies grossly inadequate, the suffering and thirsty men cut a narrow passage (sometimes just an inch wider than the wagons) as they ascended the tortuous ravines of the barren Southwestern mountains. It was a thrilling day when they at last found their way onto the gentle slopes that led to their first view of the Pacific Ocean.
Then something unfortunate happened to John Borrowman—because of exhaustion, he fell asleep on guard duty. He drifted off for just a few moments, but a watchful sergeant reported him. In time of war this was an offense punishable by death. The Mormon soldiers were subject to their army commanders and military law, and John was immediately imprisoned. During the next few weeks, he read a friend’s copy of the Book of Mormon, which brought him a great deal of comfort.
After he was set free, it was determined that his release had been an error, and John reluctantly returned to jail. He wrote in his journal that he was lonely and uncomfortable, for “I have no bedding … but my blanket and a cold damp brick floor to lie on” (Journal of John Borrowman, 1846–1860, Church Historical Department, microfilm, 22). When his case was heard, he was sentenced to three additional days in guard quarters and three hours each day in the cells; three dollars of his pay were also withheld. Though grateful that his life was spared, he felt this was a great burden and prayed to the Lord to be relieved of it. His deliverance came in an unusual fashion. When the regular army colonel was informed of the sentence of the court, he was disgusted at its leniency. Yet he didn’t have the power to overturn it. So he set it aside, saying it was better to have no punishment than one that was so light. John accepted this as an answer to his earnest prayers.
Upon his honorable discharge from the Mormon Battalion, John sold his horse and bought passage on a ship to San Francisco, California. Arriving there, he found a small community of Saints who helped him find work as a laborer for two dollars per day. After several months, John started east to join the main body of the Saints in the Salt Lake Valley. Near Sacramento he learned that some of the other members of the battalion were working at a place called Sutter’s Mill when gold was discovered there. Thus John became a prospector. He recorded in his journal that he was washing between $25 and $60 of gold each day—a real fortune compared to his wage as a laborer.
Yet, when the call came from Brigham Young for battalion members to proceed directly to Salt Lake City, John and his partners immediately abandoned their lucrative careers as prospectors and started the arduous trek through the Sierra Nevada mountain range to the Salt Lake Valley. Once there, John was given a piece of land outside the city, which he energetically began to improve into a beautiful irrigated farm.
John writes matter-of-factly of his marriage in a journal entry dated 22 January 1849: “I have not thought proper to write any since the second of this month … since that day I have been engaged in getting things for house keeping [O]n the evening of the ninth I got married and moved into a little adobie house belonging to [B]rother Turbit where I reside at present with my wife” (Journal of John Borrowman).
In time, John and his wife, Agnes Park, were blessed with five children. In 1853 the Borrowmans left their prosperous farm in Salt Lake City when they were called on a colonization mission to Nephi, Utah (about 130 kilometers to the south). According to an article published in the local newspaper, John became a respected and honored citizen of that small community, serving first as prosecuting attorney, then as municipal judge. In 1869 he was called on a second proselyting mission to Canada and left his home and family for two years. Records indicate that over the course of his lifetime, John Borrowman assisted in more than 1,100 convert baptisms.
William Borrowman never forgave his son for joining the Church. He made sure that the family members never referred to John as brother or uncle. However, John’s stepmother, Helen, corresponded with John through the years. In 1857 she wrote to tell him that his father had died and that he had directed that John be given—as his total inheritance—one halfpenny (the equivalent of a nickel in American coin).
Over the course of his lifetime, John abandoned his claim to a prosperous farm in Canada, gave up the sure profits of the goldfields of California, and left a developed farm in the Salt Lake Valley—all seemingly without regret. Whenever and wherever the Lord called, John Borrowman, like so many Saints, answered the call without hesitation.
In studying the life of my great-great-grandfather, I have wondered what he thought about receiving his inheritance. I believe the following scripture best describes his willingness to unite with the people of the Lord:
“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like unto a merchant man, seeking goodly pearls:
“Who, when he had found one pearl of great price, went and sold all that he had, and bought it” (Matt. 13:45–46).
And so, for an inheritance, John Borrowman received the pearl of great price—and a halfpenny too!
Information in this article is based on the journal of John Borrowman, who lived from 13 May 1816 to 28 March 1898.

I once attended a meeting in Leadville, Colorado. Leadville is situated at an altitude of over 10,000 feet (3,000 m). I remember that particular meeting because of the high altitude, but I also remember it for what took place that evening. There were just a small number of priesthood holders present. As with the branch in the Canadian Mission, that branch was presided over by a missionary and always had been.
That night we had a lovely meeting, but as we were singing the closing song, the inspiration came to me that there ought to be a local branch president presiding. I turned to the mission president and asked, “Isn’t there someone here who could preside—a local man?”
He replied, “I don’t know of one.”
During the singing of that song, I looked carefully at the men who were seated on the first three rows. My attention seemed to be focused on one of the brethren. I said to the mission president, “Could he serve as the branch president?”
He replied, “I don’t know. Perhaps he could.”
I said, “President, I’ll take him into the other room and interview him. You speak after the closing song until we return.”
When the two of us walked back in the room, the mission president concluded his testimony. I presented the name of the brother to be the new branch president. From that day forward, Leadville, Colorado, had a local member leading the unit there.

When I was first called as a General Authority nearly 50 years ago, we lived on a very small plot of ground in Utah Valley that we called our farm. We had a cow and a horse and chickens and lots of children.
One Saturday, I was to drive to the airport for a flight to a stake conference in California. But the cow was expecting a calf and in trouble. The calf was born, but the cow could not get up. We called the veterinarian, who soon came. He said the cow had swallowed a wire and would not live through the day.
I copied the telephone number of the animal by-products company so my wife could call them to come and get the cow as soon as she died.
Before I left, we had our family prayer. Our little boy said our prayer. After he had asked Heavenly Father to “bless Daddy in his travels and bless us all,” he then started an earnest plea. He said, “Heavenly Father, please bless Bossy cow so that she will get to be all right.”
In California, I told of the incident and said, “He must learn that we do not get everything we pray for just that easily.”
There was a lesson to be learned, but it was I who learned it, not my son. When I returned Sunday night, Bossy had “got to be all right.”

Elder John R. Lasater, formerly of the Seventy (1987–92), told of an incident that occurred while he was traveling in Morocco. A car had injured one of the lambs belonging to a shepherd, and according to local law, the shepherd was entitled to 100 times its value. His interpreter said, “But the old shepherd will not accept the money. They never do because of the love [they have] for each of [the] sheep.” Elder Lasater then observed the old shepherd pick up the injured lamb, place it in a pouch in the front of his robe, stroke its head, and call it by name. The interpreter told him, “All of his sheep have a name, for he is their shepherd, and the good shepherds know each one of their sheep by name.”

Elder Lasater continued, “Do we understand the personal nature of the shepherd’s call? … Do they know us as true shepherds who love them, who willingly and freely give time and attention to their needs, and in that marvelous process, instill the confidence and security so greatly needed in God’s children today?” (“Shepherds of Israel,” Ensign, May 1988, 74–75).

The last night of Joseph’s life on earth he bore a powerful testimony to the guards and others who assembled at the door of the jail of the divinity of the Book of Mormon, also declaring that the gospel had been restored and the kingdom of God established on the earth. It was for this reason that he was incarcerated in prison, not for violating any law of God or man.
It was late at night when the prisoners tried to get some rest. At first Joseph and Hyrum occupied the only bed in the jail room, but a gunshot during the night and a disturbance led Joseph’s friends to insist that he take a place between the two of them on the floor. They would protect him with their own bodies. Joseph asked John S. Fullmer to use his arm for a pillow while they conversed; then he turned to Dan Jones, on the other side, and whispered, “Are you afraid to die?” And this staunch friend answered, “Has that time come, think you? Engaged in such a cause I do not think that death would have many terrors.”
Joseph replied, “You will yet see Wales, and fulfill the mission appointed you before you die” (History of the Church, 6:601).

It was a hot day. I was excited and a little nervous. Today was a big day for me and other members of the Royal Canadian Military Force. It was the day of the endurance test.
We’d heard a lot about this test. It was tough. Sixty-pound packs would be strapped on our backs; then we would have to run five miles without stopping! And that wasn’t all. Next, we would have to turn around and walk/run five more miles back to camp.
But I was in good shape. I had been a starter on the high school basketball team. I also enjoyed many other sports. I had grown up active and healthy. But the best thing that I had done to prepare for this big test was to obey the Word of Wisdom.
The officers conducting the test signaled the beginning of the run, and we were off. Several men dropped out before we had gone two miles. As I ran on, I saw many of my friends quit. Some even passed out. They all had to be taken back to camp in a truck. But I was determined to do my best. I was tired, but I ran on.
When I reached the five-mile mark, I was exhausted. Sweat dripped down my face and drenched my clothes. Then I had to turn around and head back to camp. Even though those of us remaining were allowed to walk occasionally, it was arduous!
I had always tried to do what was right. I tried to listen to and obey my parents and Primary teachers as I grew up. They taught me that smoking, drinking, and drugs would hurt my body, and I believed them. (See D&C 89.)
I know that the Lord blessed me with the health and strength to pass that test because I kept the Word of Wisdom. Obeying the Word of Wisdom—and all the Lord’s commandments—is important for everyone. If we are obedient, the Lord will bless us.

When the phone rang, Michael had no idea that the call would turn a good deed into a bad one.
Dad got up from the dinner table and answered the phone. When he returned a few minutes later, he looked excited. “Great news!” he shouted. “The company has called me back to work. I start next month.”
It was great news. Dad had been laid off from the steel mill nearly two years ago. They had lost their house and now lived in a small apartment. It had been a difficult adjustment.
“Congratulations, Dad,” Michael said.
Crystal jumped up from the table, threw her arms around Dad’s neck, and squealed, “Oh, Daddy!”
Michael hadn’t seen her do that for a long time.
Mom sat quietly, smiling.
“Donna,” Dad told her, “this spring we hunt for a new house.”
A tear slid down over Mom’s smile. She got up from the table and gave Dad a long, tender hug. “Sit down and finish your supper, Fred.” She put on a coat and took the storage shed key from the key rack. “Wait here,” she said, heading for the door. “I have a surprise for you.”
That’s when Michael realized that he might have a problem. He knew that Mom had gone after Dad’s company coat. Dad had been proud of the coat, an award for ten years’ service at the steel mill. But he had refused to wear it after the layoff. Mom had stored it for safe keeping, though—just in case.
Several weeks ago, while Michael and Crystal were doing the dishes, he had overheard his mom and dad talking. She had suggested that Dad wear his company coat since the weather was getting very cold.
“No,” Dad had said sternly. “I’ll freeze before I give the mill free advertising. Just get rid of it.”
The next day Michael had gone to the park as usual. He enjoyed seeing the pigeons and squirrels there on his way to school. He had paid little attention to the old man collecting empty bottles and cans from the garbage cans. But that particular morning he noticed the old man sniffing and sampling food scraps, stuffing what he liked into his pockets.
From then on, whenever he could, Michael smuggled biscuits or waffles or jam-covered toast from his own breakfast plate and left it in a neatly wrapped package for the man. Normally the man smiled gratefully when he found the food. It made Michael feel good inside.
But one morning the man reacted differently. He searched about the park with angry glances. When he saw Michael, he marched over, shook the wrapped breakfast in Michael’s face and yelled, “What is this! I don’t need charity from any young do-gooder like you.”
Mortified, Michael had run.
He hadn’t left anything for the man again until yesterday. The weather had turned extremely cold, and on his way to school, he saw the man again—wearing a thin, ripped jacket and huddling under the viaduct near the park. Michael ran home, scavenged two leftover chicken legs from the refrigerator, wrapped them in a napkin, then stuffed them into a pocket of Dad’s coat and hurried back to the park. He jammed the coat into the garbage can, trying to make it look discarded, then fled—it was almost time for the man to get there on his daily round.
Michael’s recollections were interrupted when his mother came back. “Fred, your company coat is gone! Did you throw it away?”
“No,” Dad said. “Didn’t you get rid of it?”
“No,” Mom said. “Just last week I had it out, thinking that maybe I could talk you into wearing it while it’s so very cold. But it had a big grease stain on it, so I put it back until I had a chance to take it to the cleaners.”
Michael looked worriedly at Crystal. She had seen him with the coat. But she just looked at the ceiling and didn’t say anything. He knew that he should tell what happened, but he was afraid to. I’ll wait to tell them tomorrow and not spoil Dad’s good news today, he rationalized.
The next day, when the family was returning home from church, Mom gasped and said, “Fred, that man is wearing your coat!”
Michael spun around to look.
Dad stared at the old man. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure,” Mom said. “See that grease stain?”
Michael blurted, “I think I’d better ex—”
“No need to concern yourself with this, son,” Dad interrupted. “Donna, go ahead with the kids up to the apartment. I’ll take care of this.”
“But, Dad, I want to—”
“It’s all right, Michael,” Dad cut him off again. “Go upstairs now.”
While Michael paced the floor, Mom sat watching out the window. Crystal’s gaze went back and forth from Michael to Mom as if she were watching a tennis match.
When Dad came in, he stared at Michael for a long moment. He didn’t hear Mom’s questions till she tugged at his sleeve and asked again, “Where’s your coat? Wouldn’t he give it back to you?”
“We were mistaken,” Dad said. “It’s not my coat.”
“Fred, I’d know that coat anywhere,” Mom said, astonished. “It’s your coat.”
“It’s his coat, Donna,” Dad said. “He said that his boy gave it to him.”
“Highly unlikely,” Mom said indignantly. “If he had a son, he wouldn’t let his father live on the streets and eat out of garbage cans.”
“It’s not really his son,” Dad replied. “The old man said that ‘his boy’ is like an angel, showing up just when he is most in need. When he’s starving, this boy shows up with food. When he was freezing, the boy brought the coat. Who could ask for more than that?” Dad said, gazing intently at Michael. “In my book, he’s a wonderful son.”
The next morning after breakfast, while Michael got ready for school, Mom said, “Michael, while you’re going by the park, would you care to dump those scraps for me? I’ve cleaned out the refrigerator, and the garbage man won’t come until Thursday.”
“OK, Mom,” Michael said. On the counter he found a nearly wrapped paper plate, piled with leftover food, sitting on Dad’s old work boots. “The boots, too?”
“The boots, too,” Mom said. “Your dad is getting a new pair.”
Now both Dad and Mom knew! And better still, they cared, too. Michael smiled to himself as he gathered up the plate full of “scraps.” Who had ever heard of warm scraps from the refrigerator?

Carrie settled down on the floor in front of a display case full of Christmas jewelry. She waved to her big brother, and he grinned. He was standing on the risers with other members of the children’s choir waiting to begin their Christmas concert at the mall. She thought he looked very handsome in his choir uniform. The boys in the choir were all dressed alike in white shirts with red-striped ties. The girls all wore blue dresses with lacy white collars and a red rose. They looked very dressed-up.
Carrie thought back to earlier in the day, when the choir had given a concert in a local church. The church had very tall stained-glass windows that reflected a softly-colored rainbow of light across the children’s faces as they sang. Their beautiful voices rose to the high rafters of the church. Mom had said that they sounded just like angels. Like the angels that announced the birth of Jesus Christ to the shepherds long ago, Carrie hoped.
Now the choir was giving the same concert at the shopping mall, but things felt different here. Carrie looked around. She was impatient for the concert to begin, but not if it was going to be this noisy. A nearby cash register was making loud beeps as a store clerk rang up sales. There was a person in a teddy-bear costume entertaining some giggling children. People were talking loudly around a large Christmas tree decorated with gifts that could be bought at the different stores in the mall.
Finally the concert began. A boy in the choir stepped forward and began to sing a solo with a violin accompaniment. When Carrie had heard this song in the church, it made her feel joyful. At the church, everyone had listened quietly. She had even noticed tears in the eyes of some of those in the audience. As she looked around the shopping mall now, few people were listening. Most were busy shopping or chatting or eating. She didn’t see reverent tears in anyone’s eyes.
When the concert was over, she was sad that hardly anyone had really listened to the beautiful music. Taking her mother’s hand, she walked out of the mall to meet her brother.
“Did the shepherds listen to the angels, Mom?” she asked. “Or were they too busy tending the sheep?”
Mom smiled. “They listened, Carrie. That’s how they knew where to find Baby Jesus.”
“Did the angels sing for anyone besides the shepherds?”
“I don’t know. The scriptures don’t tell us about anyone else.”
“What about all the people staying near the stable? You told me that there were so many people in Bethlehem that there wasn’t any room in the inns for Mary and Joseph.”
“The city was very crowded that night. But I suppose those people were too tired to listen to angels after their long journey to Bethlehem. Or maybe they were busy finding a place to sleep, preparing food, or thinking about the taxes they’d have to pay.”
Carrie thought about that for a few minutes, then sighed. “Mom, I hope that no matter what I’m doing, I’ll always be able to hear the angels sing.”
“Me, too.” Mom gave Carrie a hug. “Me, too.”

When the Lakeview First Ward, Orem Utah Sharon West Stake, decided to hold a film festival, they went the extra mile—they also produced the movies.
Each Young Women class was assigned to work with their corresponding age group in the Young Men. Each group wrote a script, shot the film, and added a sound track. When the editing was done, the classes invited the ward to a special showing. Awards were given, and the deacons and Beehives walked away with best film honors. Their script was on several humorous reasons for not dating until age 16.
The experience of working together was a good fellowshipping opportunity, and the group has decided to make it an annual event.

He said, “Smile ako o. Kita mo? Kita mo smile ko?” (I’m smiling, can you see? Can you see my smile?) Then, he flashed a big, toothy smile. Between shallow breaths, he said “Miss you, miss you,” and pouted his lips, asking me to kiss him. And I did. Later, I realized his “miss you” really meant, “I will miss you.” Those were the last words he spoke. He knew we were going to be physically separated for a few decades, and just wanted me to know that he will miss me, but we will definitely see each other again.
The moment I saw his lifeless body in the hospital bed, I felt the Spirit whisper to me, “He was really supposed to live just up to this day.” The pain was there, the tears flowed freely, but miraculously I felt very peaceful and calm, and knew that everything in this world happens the way God intends or allows it.
I hold on to all the truths I have learned since childhood. The reality of the Plan of Salvation. That birth is not the beginning and death is not the end. The reality that a body dies but the spirit lives. That there is always hope because Jesus Christ has made resurrection available to all. I attribute my clear understanding and calm composure at that moment to the prayers of hundreds of people who love me and my little family, and I am grateful to all of you.
President Joseph Fielding Smith taught, “It is reasonable to believe that in the beginning, before the earth was prepared, the Lord would have all things organized from the beginning to the end of time”1. So there. God is all-knowing. Before the physical creation of the earth, there is a spiritual blueprint for everything. Eons and eons of time ago, He has designed our family life to be this way. We’ll have Titus to lead, teach and ready us for the first 10 years, but at 34 years old his probationary period will be over. We are still a family because we have made eternal covenants in the temple, and we both still have the obligation to lead our children back to Heavenly Father. However, I will just have to do the physical rearing and providing from here on out. And because our lives are designed this way, I am confident that God has already prepared all the necessary help we will ever need.
This the greatest miracle I have ever experienced—the ability to readily align my will to Heavenly Father’s. I call this a miracle because I was not really like this before. I will strive to do the same in all my future trials. I guess the greatest affliction can teach us the greatest lessons. And now I have the testimony that because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ, because He has overcome sin and death, we can all have peace and even joy in any circumstance.

Nineteen-year-old Emily Rowland takes a deep breath. The task ahead of her seems nearly impossible. A trickle of sweat slowly makes its way down her face to drip off her chin, and her face becomes flushed, but she won’t give up.
Emily knows she must persevere, not only for herself, but for others who will follow. Her heart pounds and her muscles beg her to stop, but she knows it will be worth it.
This is Relief Society Homemaking meeting.
Of course, it’s not always this much of an ordeal—but this particular Homemaking night finds Emily and some of the other women in her ward—the University Ward near the University of Nevada at Las Vegas—working to improve their health and fitness, and that means working up a sweat doing aerobics. Other times Homemaking might mean learning about how to manage finances (not a bad skill for a college freshman like Emily), or how to look for a job, or maybe even how to change a flat tire.
What, no recipes, no baby quilts?
“Sure, cooking and sewing are important too,” says Emily. “It always amazes me how well Relief Society can adjust to individual needs. It’s a lot of fun.”
Emily and two of her friends, Aubrey VanDrimmelen and Charlotte Ballard, say that leaving Young Women behind was hard, and maybe even a little frightening. But it’s also something they all agree it was time to do.
“I really loved Young Women,” says Charlotte. “And Relief Society is different from Young Women. For one thing, there are a lot of people who are older than you. But after you’ve gone a few times, you realize how nice everyone is, how much they want to be your friend.”
Emily points out that going from Young Women to Relief Society happens at a time when most girls are headed off to college, entering the work force, preparing for missions, or getting married.
“Those are big changes,” she says. “Relief Society is a big change, too, but it helps you cope with all the other new things in life.”
Part of making the change into Relief Society means learning new skills. Probably one of the most important things all three girls learned right away was how to be a good visiting teacher—something none of them had done before.
“The first time I went visiting teaching, I had no clue what I was doing,” says Aubrey. “It was sort of hard to think of things to say, but now I really like it. It’s great to get to know people and help them out.”
Unlike some student wards, the University Ward in Las Vegas has a mix of single and married people. A few couples even have children, so the younger women in the ward have to step out of their comfort zone to help the others.
Emily and her partner (who is also 19) go visiting teaching to the married, has-a-master’s-degree, has-a-baby Relief Society president (gulp). But, as with most other things, Emily takes it in stride and has even learned to enjoy it.
“Getting the call to be her visiting teacher was a little intimidating, I have to admit,” she says. “Since I didn’t know what it was like to be married or have a baby, I just had to ask her. Since I was forced to ask a lot of questions, I’ve come to know more about her. I really admire her, and I have learned so much from being her visiting teacher. And I hope maybe she’s learned a little something from me.”
“Last week, our lesson on Sunday was titled ‘Aging Is Part of God’s Plan,’” says Aubrey. “I looked at that and thought, How on earth is that going to apply to someone like me? I mean, no one in my ward is exactly getting old.”
Even though there is only one lesson in the Relief Society curriculum about aging, there are lots of lessons on family and social relationships. Does that mean that someone who is young and single can’t get anything from them?
“No way!” says Emily, who serves as a Spiritual Living teacher in her ward. “I work on my lesson all week, reading it so many times I practically know it by heart. Every lesson has something that is valuable, whether you’re 19, 29, or 79.”
Charlotte says that the age differences in Relief Society actually add to her experience.
“You can always learn things from people who are older than you,” she says. “You may not need to know those things right at the moment you learn them, but lots of them come in handy later on. There’s always a great spirit in Relief Society because people share their own experiences.”
Of course, one thing that doesn’t change whether you’re in Young Women or Relief Society is the chance to learn about the Savior and how to become more like him.
“I know with a surety that my Savior lives,” says Emily. “Sometimes you start to doubt things, but if you listen to the lessons in Relief Society you learn and grow so much because you’re doing the right thing. Relief Society helps you stay close to the gospel.”
And along with that closeness to the Savior and the gospel come a closeness and friendship with each other that the girls say is hard to duplicate anywhere else.
“There’s a lot of love in our Relief Society,” says Charlotte. “You can tell when you’re there that people are willing to help each other. There are opportunities to serve and teach everywhere.”
This year, young women all over the Church will be taking the plunge into Relief Society. With a little less than a year of Relief Society under their belts, Emily, Aubrey, and Charlotte know what that initial plunge feels like: exciting, scary, and possibly (for the newcomer) a little intimidating. They also know what it feels like to keep coming: rewarding, uplifting, and a smooth transition to a lot of fun, where age differences don’t matter much.
“Everyone in Relief Society wants you to know you are accepted and to make you feel good about being there. What could be better?” says Emily.
Aubrey agrees.
“It’s a little like reading the scriptures,” she says. “Every time you go, you learn something different. And the longer you do it, the more you learn.”
Friendship, love, skill training, and spiritual growth—it’s a good deal no matter what age you are and no matter what your needs are. And who knows? The first time you go, they might even serve a delicious, fancy dessert—with the recipe, of course. After all, this is Relief Society.
Feeling left out because there’s not a student or singles’ ward in your area? Well, whether you live hundreds of miles away from the nearest Church member your age, or just a few minutes from Church headquarters, your home ward is still a great place for you to be—including Relief Society!
Christy Pimper, another 19-year-old college student from Las Vegas, has chosen to attend her home ward. Here are some of her tips on finding a way to fit in:
Mentally prepare to make the move. “I really liked Young Women, but when I turned 18, I felt ready to leave. I was older than everyone and my needs were different. When it’s time to move on, don’t hesitate!”
Take the opportunity to develop your testimony. “The lessons in Relief Society are great. You learn things you never knew before, and you understand things you’ve known all your life much better than before.”
Make friends. “Even though everyone in my ward is older than me, I don’t feel left out. All the women go out of their way to make me feel welcome.”
Keep an open mind. “Relief Society is different from Young Women, but unless you give it a try, you’ll never really know for yourself what it’s like.”

We finally did it! My younger brother and I had saved enough money to buy the river raft of our dreams. I was 15 years old, and we had long anticipated the day that we could raft down the river near our house without a care.
As we walked to the river, I realized that we were missing something important: the paddles! Since it would take an additional 10 minutes to go back and get them, we decided that we didn’t need paddles. I thought to myself, “The river isn’t too rough. We will just jump in, sit back, and see where the river takes us.” After all, we were men, and men didn’t need paddles.
As we floated down the river, we saw snakes, turtles, shiny rocks, and mysterious floating objects—which remained mysterious since we could never get close enough to investigate them. Without paddles, we were at the mercy of the current and where it wanted to take us, which was often different from where we actually wanted to go. We tried paddling with our hands, but it was a slow form of navigation that did little except entertain the people watching our “progress” from the riverbank.
There were times when we got caught in the slow section of the current. My brother and I would gaze longingly at the enticing rapids, but we had no effective means of steering our way over to them. When we did find our way into a small set of rapids, we wished we hadn’t. As we came around a curve in the river we noticed several rough tree branches hanging only a few inches above the water. We frantically paddled with our hands, but they were no match for the current. We plowed face first into the coarse branches, leaving us feeling like we had been run over by sandpaper.
Nursing our wounds and egos, we reached the end of our trip and pulled the raft out of the water. We realized that without a paddle we had missed out on what could have been a more fun and exciting experience.

President Aires is a friendly, outgoing man who radiates genuine love for people. But he was a skeptic—an atheist from a family of atheists—when he met the LDS missionaries. The missionaries first contacted his wife, Domitila, who warned them her husband would not want to hear their message. So they made three visits without discussing religion, getting to know him, before he asked what they wanted. As predicted, he told them he was not interested, but he gave permission for them to teach his wife. During the third lesson, however, the gospel message began to reach him too. He and his wife were baptized in July of 1977.
Brother and Sister Aires were the first Portuguese couple called to serve as missionaries, in 1984. Maturity and ability with the language gave them advantages over younger missionaries. They benefited, too, from knowledge of Portuguese society and culture, especially in dealing with married couples.

Jason C. Jones turned up the collar of his wet coat. He tried to creep farther under the bush, but the chilling rain still soaked through and found him.
Will I ever be warm again? Jason wondered.
On this cold night in November 1833, Jason thought back to that hot day in July when it seemed to him their troubles had all begun.
Jason’s father said to him that morning, “I have to ride into Independence, Missouri for supplies, Jason. Fix the broken fence. And remember you’re eleven now, and you’ll have to look out for your mother and Jane.”
Shortly after noon that day Jason was straightening a fence rail near the road when he heard the sound of running horses.
Shading his eyes, Jason looked down the road. Many men were coming toward him on galloping horses. Then he noticed that all the men had weapons of some sort. Jason saw several rifles and some pistols, but most of the riders carried whips or clubs.
The boy trembled in fright. Are they members of a mob? he wondered. He’d heard stories about men who threatened the Saints, and sometimes when his father and mother had thought the children were both asleep, Jason had heard them whisper about killings.
All but one of the riders raced past the boy. The one who stopped pulled his horse up near Jason and shouted, "You one of those Mormon boys?"
Jason nodded.
"Tell your folks to get out," the man cried. "You’re not wanted in Jackson County, Missouri."
Jason stood silent and the man rode away.
When his father came home, Jason told him about the men and then asked, “Why don’t the people want us here, Father? We’re not hurting anyone, are we?”
His father looked sad. He was quiet for a moment, and then he explained, “I guess folks feel there are too many Mormons coming to live here.”
Jason remembered that the rest of the summer was peaceful at their farm, but many other families had not been as fortunate. One night his father rode into Independence again. A meeting was being held so that some of the Mormon leaders and other men chosen from the area could talk over their problems.
Before he left, Jason’s father had not returned. Near nightfall that day Jason walked to the road. He peered in the direction of town, hoping he might see his father coming home. What Jason saw instead made him stiffen with fear. He raced back into the house and shut the door.
Before he spoke, he took a deep breath. “Mother,” Jason quietly said, “some men are coming.”
His mother jumped up. A shirt she had been mending dropped unnoticed on the floor. “Maybe we can get away through the back door, Jason,” she suggested in a shaky voice. “Let’s hurry and—”
Before his mother finished speaking, a huge man pushed the door open.
“You Mormons get out!” he bellowed. “We’re going to burn your house down!”
Jason could not believe what he heard the man say. Then there were sounds in the yard outside, and Jason knew the loud noises meant fences were being ripped down and the barn and other outbuildings torn apart.
Jason helped his mother find Jane’s shawl as well as her own. He snatched a wicker basket and began to throw food into it, but the big man grabbed the basket and shouted, “Go on! Get out before this place burns down around you!”
Jason and his mother and Jane ran outside and up the road. They stopped a few times to look back at the flames that licked around their home as it burned.
During the night they were joined by other homeless women and children. They crossed a burned prairie crusted with sleet. Whenever they tried to stop and rest, men on horseback drove them on.
The driven people moved northward to the Missouri River. They reached the river late one evening.
Crowded on its banks were household goods, boxes, provisions, animals, and many people waiting their turn to cross the river. Only one small ferry was available.
Shortly after dark Jason became separated from his mother and Jane. Now the rain began to fall in torrents, and Jason huddled under the bush. He was desperately miserable and lonely as he thought about all that had happened since that July day when the man on horseback had screamed, “You’re not wanted!”
Then Jason remembered what he could do. Kneeling in the mud, Jason prayed for help.
Finally he dozed. But cries from the people on the river bank soon awakened him, and Jason crawled from beneath his bush.
The rain had stopped, and everyone was looking up. Jason looked up too. The sight he saw filled him with amazement.
The heavens were a deep blue background for a wondrous spectacle of falling stars that streaked downward in bright flames. It looked as if the stars exploded in place and then began to tumble toward the earth.
To Jason, it seemed that every star in the heavens was about to land in the river beside the people.
As the magnificent display gradually stopped, Jason again remembered his troubles. He sighed and shivered as he pulled his coat about him. Just then he felt a hand on his shoulder, and Jason looked up and saw his father.
“Oh, Father,” he sobbed, “I’m so glad to see you!”
His father hugged him close. “I found your mother and Jane too,” he said. “Come.”
The man and boy walked down the river bank together. A fire burned warmly in front of a tent, and inside the opening Jason could see his mother and sister.
“With our family together again, even a tent is a home,” Father said as he gently pushed Jason inside toward his welcoming family.

When I started reading “When Thou Art Converted” in the March New Era, it sounded strangely familiar. I suddenly realized that the author was the same Elder Young who taught me the discussions while I worked for the Forest Service last summer in Swan Valley, Idaho.
My job and the Teton Dam disaster made for a really interesting summer, but the sincerity and care with which Elder Young taught me left the most memorable and cherished impression. He ended his mission before I finished the discussions, so I never really had the chance to thank him for the wonderful way he helped change my life and open up new horizons. I only wish he could have been there for my early-morning baptism in the Snake River so he could have witnessed one of the happiest fruits of his labors.
Carol KounanisWest Lafayette, Indiana

They all came to Utah and settled in Tooele County. They were just getting settled and making things go when they were called by President Brigham Young to St. George, and they went, like all good Latter-day Saints did in those days. But they had not been in St. George very long when they were called to settle in Meadow Valley. That is a place you folks probably have not heard about. It is now known as Panaca, in what they thought was southwestern Utah, but which actually later came to be Nevada. These people, obeying the call, again without question, were the first family to move to Meadow Valley, and they made a dugout house. Sister Young said that you may not know what a dugout house is. I replied that most of the folks would know: One digs a cubical hole in a hillside and covers it with a roof of wooden poles topped with clay.
Troubles of the few settlers with the Indians caused the authorities in St. George to give them permission to abandon the project, but Sister Jane Johnson Lee refused to leave. She said she was there to stay, and stay they did. Later two Indians came into her dugout home, and one of them, seeing a rifle in one corner of the room, demanded it. Sister Lee refused to give it to him. He started for the gun, but she struck him so hard with a piece of stove wood, it knocked him down. He staggered to his feet and drew his bow, aiming the arrow at her. She let him have another piece of wood, which smashed the bow and arrow. Both Indians departed.

After the boxes were prepared to go again, they were finally ready to be given to the coordinators at the hospice office, which was just down the street from the business where the boxes were being stored. But this time the youth decided that loading piles of boxes into a car for transport wasn’t such a good idea. After all, that was what had damaged many of the wrapping jobs the first time around. They decided that since the boxes had such a short way to travel, they would form a human chain from the location where the boxes were being stored to where they needed to go.

There aren’t too many LDS youth in West Plains, so they invited Primary children, adult leaders, and anyone else who wanted to help. They donned elves’ caps and spread out right through the heart of downtown West Plains. The boxes were handed from one person to another, and soon they were all safely at their destination, ready to be filled with food from the West Plains Ward and other community groups.

The group attracted a bit of attention from passersby, who were invited to join in. They didn’t have many takers, but several people did find out where they could donate food to go inside the boxes.

“Doing a project like this really makes you feel good,” says Heather Camier, a Beehive. “It’s great to work together as a group for a good cause. It’s the best this time of year; it really makes it feel like Christmas.”

Not all of the success of telling their message comes from the performances. For Dave Palfreyman, the group’s emcee and business manager, one of his most memorable experiences with the group happened at a stop at Sutter’s Fort, California.

“We had stopped to eat and stretch our legs. Some of the members went on a tour of the fort. Those of us who had already taken the tour were left with free time.” Dave and four girls decided to visit a hospital that was across the street. They told the head nurse who they were and asked if there was someone who didn’t receive many visitors. The nurse told them about an elderly lady.

“I was a little nervous,” Dave explained. “But I took the initiative to speak. The woman was Mrs. Daugherty, 84, a widow and a grandmother of two, and she was alone in a world of millions of people. As soon as I introduced us, the girls swarmed around the bed. We found a very beautiful woman—a child of God just like us. I became silent and watched my friends put an old German saying into practice: Geben ist selger als nehmen (To give is much more precious than to receive). I was asked to say a prayer. Prayers,” Dave concluded his story, “should come from the heart, and if they do, one knows deep within that our Father and his Son are happy. They were. Mrs. Daugherty knew, we knew, and none of us will forget it.”

Leury belongs to a priests quorum of one, so he carries a lot of responsibility. “I have been visiting a lot of people who can’t go to church and taking them the sacrament on Sundays. I also go home teaching,” says Leury.
“Having Leury active in the priests quorum tremendously blesses my life,” says Bienvenida. “He loves the Church and is very spiritual. I want to be an example for him, but he ends up being an example to me in many ways.”

As I lay in the motel room anticipating the next day’s state cross-country race, I struggled with all the difficult emotions a 16-year-old can have. I felt I was running worse than in past years. I felt ugly. Having never had a date or a boyfriend compounded my feelings of insecurity. I wanted so badly to feel accepted.
I had gone to bed early, and my teammates thought I was asleep. I heard them giggling, and then they nudged my shoulder and said, “Here, Jenny. Have some water.” I could distinctly smell that it was not water.
I was angry at these “friends” for trying to play a trick on me. Did they think I was stupid? I was scared they might force the alcohol down my throat. I yearned for the security of my family, but that seemed childish for someone my age.
A thousand questions raced through my mind. By drinking, will I be part of the “in” crowd? Will the alcohol make me beautiful? Will it give me a boyfriend? Will I be able to run faster or even win the race tomorrow?
I knew the answers to these questions. I said firmly, “No, that’s not water, and I’m not going to drink it.” Even though both of those girls beat me in the race the next day, I knew I had won a more important race in the Lord’s eyes.
The bus trip home seemed particularly long. I was anxious to return to my family and tell my mother what had happened.
The next night at dinner Mom presented me with a gift. My five brothers and sisters watched me open it. It was to let me know my family was proud of my decision to live the Word of Wisdom.
Around the dinner table that night my family helped me feel talented, beautiful, and accepted—an acceptance I may never find at school or on a cross-country team.