Gospel Story Finder

What started as an Eagle project for Chris Austin of Idaho Falls, Idaho, has become a regular summer activity. As an excellent swimmer, Chris offered to help teach handicapped children at a local development center. He worked weekly at the center, in addition to planning and conducting a water fun day at a nearby lakefront. Awards for competition were given to every person that participated.
The children especially liked Chris, and when the service project was completed, Chris decided to continue his work as a counselor and swimming instructor at the center.

Have you ever been excited for a special day? Maybe it was your birthday or a vacation. Seven-year-old Adair was excited for a special day. Her family set a date to go to the temple one year from the time of their baptism.
Adair’s family held a special family home evening. Her dad and mom explained how important it was for everyone to prepare to go to the temple. They made a list of the things they could do: pray individually and as a family, read the scriptures, pay tithing, keep the commandments, and follow the prophet.
Adair’s mother gave her a picture of the temple and wrote Adair’s name and the date that her family would be going to the temple underneath. Every day Adair tried her best to prepare for when her family would be sealed in the temple. Adair felt good inside as she realized that each day she prepared to receive the blessings of the temple was a special day. She felt a surge of excitement as the special day came. Being sealed as a family was a blessing Heavenly Father gave them that brought them closer to Him and to each other.

Members of the Palo Alto First Ward, Menlo Park California Stake, watched in anticipation as a three-bedroom, two-bath, fully-carpeted home on Eighth Avenue was built last summer. Complete with a sun deck protected by overhanging oak boughs, the house is like many others in the region except for one thing—it was built, and then sold, by the priests quorum in the Palo Alto First Ward.
The project was undertaken with a fourfold goal in mind: (1) to strengthen quorum brotherhood, (2) to put the principle of work into action, (3) to raise money for a special summer activity, and (4) to prepare for missionary service. A year’s worth of work went into the planning, construction, and selling of “the House.” After paying off the loan and other expenses incurred in the project, the quorum made a profit of $10,000. Eighty percent of this went into a missionary trust fund for quorum members, ten percent was divided among the members, and ten percent went into a fund to finance quorum activities.
Each member of the quorum had specific tasks for which he was responsible. Some of these included lot acquisition, demolition, carpenter foreman, payroll and accounting, shingling, electrical work, heating, sheet metal work, plumbing, and interior design and color coordination. The quorum was assisted by members of the teachers quorum and four nonmembers who are now actively participating in and/or investigating the Church and its programs. Adviser for the entire project was Young Men president and priests quorum adviser Dick Jacobsen.

My music also helps me get closer to Heavenly Father. I’ve learned a lot about him and about prayer through it.
One time I practiced really hard and prayed a lot before a big competition. But I really messed up. I started in the wrong key, and by the end of the piece it just sounded awful. I came away thinking, Why didn’t Heavenly Father help me? I did everything I could! But then I realized the whole thing motivated me to practice even harder. I might have slacked off a little if I’d done better. Instead I worked a lot more.

On the afternoon of 30 May 1996, I went with my family and two friends to the Araneta Coliseum in Manila to hear President Gordon B. Hinckley speak. He was visiting the Philippines, and we were excited to see him.
We arrived at the coliseum at 4:30 P.M. My friends, Princess and Paulo, my sister, Hay-Hay, and I lined up at an entrance. We soon found ourselves entering the topmost seating area of the coliseum.
We spent the next one and a half hours looking for better seats. When we were finally seated at 6:00 P.M., we waited and tried to be quiet. I did some thinking. I was preparing to hear the President of the Church, whom I had read so much about but did not know as a person. I could play “We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet” (Hymns, number 19) on the piano from memory, but was I really thankful? I knew about President Gordon B. Hinckley because I had read about him. I believed he was a prophet because everybody said so. After some reflection, I realized I didn’t have a testimony of him. I realized that to have a testimony of him, I needed to know him and love him.
Suddenly the crowd stood up. Some people said President Hinckley had arrived. But after five minutes, we realized he hadn’t and sat down. I joked that it was just practice—we’d be able to stand with elegance and unity when he did arrive. The second time we stood, he still hadn’t arrived. The third time I was skeptical, but the choir began singing “We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet.” Some people were waving, and some were clapping. Then I saw him; he passed right in front of us. We sat down when he motioned for us to sit, and the meeting began.
The first speaker talked about missionary work in the Philippines and how it has progressed in the short time since Elder Gordon B. Hinckley gave his first speech here in April 1961. At that time Elder Hinckley said, “What we begin here will affect the lives of thousands and thousands of people in this island republic, and its effects will go on from generation to generation for great and everlasting good” (“Dateline Philippines,” Tambuli, April 1991, 17). He was right; the Philippines now has more than 350,000 Church members.
President Hinckley counseled the young people to be “honest, true, chaste, benevolent, virtuous,” and to do “good to all men” (A of F 1:13). He counseled all students to seek after the best education they can attain. He counseled single members to find worthy companions and marry in the temple for time and eternity. He apologized for not being able to hug and shake hands with all 35,000 people in the congregation. But he sent his love and his special blessing to each of us—blessing us that we would walk uprightly before the Lord.
While he was speaking, I felt his love—personally. At that moment, he became real to me. He has real love to offer to people, I thought. I couldn’t help but love him back. This was the first time I had ever had such an experience. His love answered many doubts in my mind. Finally I had a testimony that he is a prophet of God. I had not just knowledge, but a real testimony!
The meeting ended with the choir singing “God Be with You Till We Meet Again” (Hymns, number 152). President Hinckley and his companions walked down the aisle waving for the last time—until we meet again.
Tears were flowing from people’s eyes as they sent their love and gratitude to him.
I went home thanking my Heavenly Father for a prophet. I went home knowing that Heavenly Father has much in store for me. And because I had come to know a prophet of God, I went home knowing myself a little better.

At school I made an awesome football field out of clay. My friend accidentally knocked it over and broke it. I was very sad. My friend also made a football field, so my teacher asked him to give me his. He had been so excited to show his parents that I said, “No, you can keep it.” He said he was sorry, and I forgave him. It made me feel good to forgive because that’s what Jesus would want me to do.
William S., age 8, Texas, USA

About two years ago I was living in Mexico City. My family and I were enjoying it there, but we saw a lot of people living in poverty. A wonderful opportunity to provide charity came when we had a little money we felt could be used to help someone else.
That Christmas our stake organized a “Family Help Tree.” We chose a name from the tree and started planning. We couldn’t wait to help this family on Christmas.
One month later, Christmas arrived and our family was ready to deliver the presents. We drove to the address and walked down a dark alley. There were gray, eroded cement walls, a plastic roof, and a wooden door that was too small for the doorway. When we knocked on the door we saw dirt floors and only one couch. There was a fridge that was not plugged in and a little bit of food on the shelves. We then found out that the mom, dad, 9-month-old baby, 4-year-old girl, and 6-year-old boy all slept either on the floor or on the couch and had only two light blankets.
We explained why we were there and then proceeded to give them the presents. The look of joy and happiness on their faces was truly priceless. We gave them a couple of alphabet toys, some food, and last but not least, some warm blankets. They were so grateful. Everyone cried tears of joy. I felt the love of the Savior for this family.
After that humbling experience, I asked my parents if we could use any money that was going toward my gifts for others who are less fortunate, and then my two little brothers asked if they could too. That moment made it a Christmas to remember. It was truly a humbling event and increased my testimony of service and the love of the Savior. When we are in the service of others, we are in the service of God, just as it states in Mosiah 2:17.

When President Washington arrived at Gilbert’s home studio, the six-foot-two Washington set his face in the stony, lifeless expression typically seen in portraits of that period. Stuart wondered how he could get Washington to appear more natural. The artist usually got his subjects to pose with lively expressions on their faces by talking to them about their interests. Stuart tried to talk to the president about the American Revolution. When Washington didn’t respond, Stuart tried discussing great political figures of ancient Rome. Washington seemed bored, so Stuart had to do his best without the president’s help. The same was true when he painted a second portrait of Washington, this time a full-length picture.

When Washington sat for his third portrait—the last one by Stuart—the artist was still puzzling over how to capture a more lively expression of Washington. Finally Stuart gripped his paintbrush and began to sketch the outline of the president’s head. When Stuart happened to glance up from his canvas, he saw a sudden, bright expression cross Washington’s face. The president had just seen a beautiful horse gallop by the window. Stuart searched his brain for all that he knew about horses and started talking, and Washington’s face soon glowed with interest in their conversation.

From horses, the conversation turned to farming. George Washington had been a planter in Virginia before he became president of the United States. Unfortunately, before the sitting that day was finished, the president’s face had assumed its stiff expression again.

In subsequent sittings, some of Washington’s friends came with him, and their conversation helped keep the president’s face more animated. However, now Stuart wanted Washington’s expression to better show his powerful leadership qualities. By making the president wait when he arrived for the sitting, Stuart irritated Washington just enough so that his face reflected the expression he wore when he was a general commanding his troops.

Some years ago a Reuters dispatch which appeared in the daily press mentioned how an American who wanted to trace his long-lost relatives in Great Britain succeeded—for the price of one airmail letter to London. Mike Archdale, age 25, Miles City, Montana, knew only that his grandfather Lionel Dawson Archdale had emigrated to the United States from Northern Ireland at the end of the nineteenth century. So Mike Archdale wrote to the only address he knew in London—the British Tourist Authority—and asked for help in finding his relatives.
His letter was opened at the tourist authority by a public relations officer—named Gilbert Archdale.
Gilbert Archdale did a little research and replied to Mike: “Hello. I’m your cousin!”
The rest is history.

My girl friend used to be very in tune with and enthusiastic about the gospel. But recently she’s been going out with people who have different standards than the Church teaches, and as a result she’s doing things that aren’t good for her. She isn’t attending Mutual and has started drinking and dating boys with bad reputations. I wrote her a letter, telling her how much I love her and the gospel, and I asked her if there is anything I can do. She wrote back saying she knows that what she is doing is wrong. Yet, she keeps doing it. Her family is really strong in the Church. They are trying to help her, but it’s not working. This problem is tearing her apart, and it’s hurting me as well. What should I do?

Contrast that to the scene which I viewed in Munich, Germany, many years ago. It was a Sunday morning, and we were en route to a missionary conference. As I looked out the window of the mission president’s automobile, I saw a shepherd with a staff in his hand, leading the sheep. They followed him wherever he went. If he moved to the left, they followed him to the left. If he moved to the right, they followed him in that direction. I made the comparison between the true shepherd who led his sheep and the sheepherder who rode casually behind his sheep.

It was a typical Olsen family home evening. Mother played the piano while little Christopher waved his arm and led everyone in a song. After Amanda gave the opening prayer, Dad began the lesson.
“Who remembers what we did at the Olsen family reunion last summer?” he asked.
“Looked at old pictures!” Julie cried out. Then she giggled, thinking about the funny pictures of Uncle Jack.
“Ran races!” Amanda chimed in, remembering how hard she had tried to run faster than her cousins.
“Ate lots of food!” Christopher yelled, and everyone laughed.
“That’s true,” Dad said. “Now who remembers what Uncle Bob asked us to do?”
Scott frowned. “Not family history,” he groaned.
“Very good,” Dad said. “Uncle Bob challenged each family to do something new with our family history.”
“But Dad,” Julie countered, “Uncle Bob said that the only research left would have to be done in other countries.”
“Do we get to travel somewhere?” Amanda asked excitedly.
“Sorry, Amanda,” Dad answered. “I think that kind of research is out. We’ll have to be more creative than that.”
“There’s nothing creative about family history,” Scott complained. “It’s just a bunch of old names and dates.”
“Well, when Joseph Smith first saw the golden plates,” Mom noted, “it was just a bunch of old markings until he translated them.”
“That was different,” Scott said. “The Book of Mormon was important, so Heavenly Father helped him translate it.”
“Family history is important, too,” Dad persisted, holding up his book of remembrance. “Maybe we just need help to translate ours.”
Julie looked puzzled. “What do you mean, Dad?”
“Translate means to make something understandable,” Dad explained. “Maybe we need to translate our records into something more than just names and dates.”
“Aw, Dad,” Scott said, picking up a family group sheet. “There’s nothing here except—hey, I never noticed that!” He pointed, staring at an entry.
“What?” Amanda said, looking over her brother’s shoulder.
“This guy, Jacob Olsen, was born on October fourth, just like me.”
“That ‘guy,’” Mom said, “was your great-grandfather. He was really happy that you were born on his birthday.”
“I don’t remember him,” Scott said.
“He died when you were just a baby,” Dad explained. “He really liked it when we took you to visit him.”
“His family had two boys and two girls in it, just like ours,” Julie noticed. “But look—the last one died the day she was born.”
“November 15th,” Dad said without having to look. “Grandpa told me that his sister was born prematurely and was just too tiny to live. But they always remembered Baby Annie and put a rosebud on her grave every November 15th.”
“That must have been a sad day,” Julie said quietly.
“It was,” Dad agreed. “But it was happy, too. It reminded them that they had a sister they could see again someday.”
“I wonder,” Amanda said, “if anyone remembers Baby Annie now?”
“We can!” Scott suggested. “Can’t we, Mom?”
“I think that would be nice,” Mom said, smiling. “I’ll mark November 15th on our calendar.”
“And write down Grandpa Olsen’s birthday, too,” Scott suggested.
“But at the end of the year,” Julie realized aloud, “we’ll just throw the calendar away and forget them.”
“Then I guess that we need another way to remember,” Mom said, going into the next room. “How about this?” she asked when she returned. “We never used this old 1992 calendar. I didn’t know why I was saving it, but it must have been for this project. And since it was a leap year, it even has February 29th on it, in case we need it.”
“But it’s four years old,” Julie said, giggling.
“That doesn’t matter,” Dad said. “We need a calendar for yesterdays, not tomorrows.”
“I get it,” Scott said. “We can remember our ancestors’ important days on that calendar, just like we remember our own important days on this year’s. What other dates can we write on it?”
“Well, between Mom’s records and mine, there surely are enough of them here,” Dad laughed, thumbing through the pages. “Why don’t we study one family every week, then put all their birthdays and weddings and deaths on the calendar?”
“Starting with Jacob Olsen,” Scott proclaimed, eagerly turning to the October page. “Dad, do you think he enjoyed his birthday as much as I do mine?”
“I’m sure he did,” Dad said. “Do you still think family history is just a bunch of old names and dates?”
“I guess not,” Scott admitted. “At least, not after we translate them into people.”

I knelt with my own family, at the conclusion of a great family home evening, the night before our lovely daughter was to be married in the temple. I think she wouldn’t mind my telling you that after we had laughed and wept and remembered, she was asked to pray. I don’t recall much of her prayer, the tears and the joy and the sweetness, but I remember one thought: she thanked God for the unconditional love she had received. This life doesn’t give one very many chances to feel exultant and a little successful, but I felt wonderful that night, and thank God that she really believes and understands what she said. We cannot, my dear brethren, condition our love by a beard or beads or habits or strange viewpoints. There have to be standards and they must be enforced, but our love must be unconditional.

A related work that rests primarily on priesthood shoulders is the Savior’s call, echoed by President Thomas S. Monson, to rescue those who have drifted from the gospel or who have become disaffected for any reason. We have had wonderful success in this effort, including excellent work by young men. An Aaronic Priesthood quorum in the Rio Grande (Spanish) Ward in Albuquerque, New Mexico, counseled together about whom they could bring back and then as a group went to visit each of them. One said, “When they came to my door, I felt important,” and another confided, “I feel happy inside that someone actually wants me to go to church; it makes me want to go to church now.” When the quorum members invited one young man to come back, they asked him to come with them on the next visit, and he did. They were not just inviting him to attend church; they were immediately making him a part of the quorum.

“My parents taught me Christian principles, and we read from the Bible together as a family, but I resisted attending their church. I tried to fill the emptiness I felt inside with the works of great philosophers. But that emptiness wasn’t filled until my sister introduced me to the missionaries. The gospel of Jesus Christ broke down the wall I had created between myself and God. As our entire family learned about the gospel and decided to be baptized, I came to understand in my heart that I had always hidden there the solid moral and spiritual principles that my parents had taught me. When I opened my heart, I was able to appreciate what my parents had always tried to teach me.”
Corrado Campisi,Alessandria Branch,Vercelli Italy District

There’s an 89-year-old lady in my ward. She’s like the granny of the ward, you could say. So everybody calls her Granny.
One day she told me that the monkeys were coming into her garden and eating all her good fruit because her net had fallen down. In our area of South Africa there are monkeys everywhere, and they make a really big impact on the community.
I said, “Oh, Granny, I would love to come and help you. I’m free this Saturday. I have nothing to do anyway, so I’ll come over and help you build a net.”
Granny and Neo
When I arrived on Saturday, she was sitting patiently on her chair waiting for me. We went out to the garden, and I helped her build the net. I don’t know how I did it, because they’re so complicated, but to this day it still stands up right.
Neo with Granny’s monkey net
For me, it didn’t seem like a big deal to help Granny—I wasn’t doing anything that day. But it was a big deal for her. It taught me that service might be the smallest thing for me, but to the other person, it can be the biggest thing.

Brother Nakamura was one of the foremost heart surgeons in Japan until he retired to serve a mission at the Tokyo Temple. “I had ten years left before I needed to retire,” he says. “But my wife and I wanted to serve in the temple.”

The decision to retire was not an easy one. Brother Nakamura had always wanted to be a heart surgeon. However, he believes the Lord was guiding him to the Church for a purpose.

The Nakamuras decided to accept a mission call to temple service. They knew it would mean a complete change in their lives, but to them, it was worth it.

Before their mission call, says Brother Nakamura, he was very busy in his profession and in the Church. He was enjoying his activities as the head of the hospital where he worked, and as the principal of a school of nursing where he was also an instructor. During this time he also served both as a counselor in the mission presidency and as a district president. He received many telephone calls—day and night—from patients who needed his help, which he freely gave.

“In the temple there are no midnight telephone calls,” he says. “The most wonderful thing is that the temple is the house of the Lord. It is peaceful everywhere. Now everything in my daily life is spiritually based. All of the ordinance work in the temple is to serve God.”

“When I was working in the hospital and involved in my Church duties, I was gone so many days and nights that my wife got lonely,” says Brother Nakamura. “Now we are working together all the time in a holy place. We are very happy.”

The screen door slammed shut with a loud bang. Lindy trudged in, pulled a chair from the kitchen table, and plopped down.
“Hi, Punkin,” her mother said as she turned off the water in the sink. She pulled one of Lindy’s blonde pigtails and said, “Why the long face? I thought you couldn’t wait for school to be out. You can’t be tired of vacation already.”
Lindy sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “There’s nothing to do,” she said and sighed again.
Lindy’s mother smiled. “Why don’t you ride your bike? You and Julie always like to race to the end of the street.”
“Julie’s gone to her grandmother’s,” Lindy grumbled. “M-o-o-o-o-m,” she wailed, tugging on her mother’s apron. “What can I dooooo?”
“I know,” her mother said, snapping her fingers. “Why don’t you read the new book I got you yesterday?”
Lindy sat up straight and gave her mother a wide grin. Then she slumped back in her seat. “Aw, Mom, I read that yesterday.” She frowned and thumped the table with her fingers.
“I have just the thing,” Mother said, sitting down at the table with her. “How would you like to play a game—a game that can last all summer!”
Lindy giggled. “Mom, what game can last all summer?”
“I know one,” Mother said, handing Lindy a big red apple. “This one: Do something good for someone each day—something kind.”
Lindy took a big bite out of her apple. She turned questioning blue eyes on her mother. “Mom, are you sure that that will be fun? It doesn’t sound like a game to me.”
“It can be,” said Mother. “The fun part is that you mustn’t let the people know you did the things for them. You can’t let them see you, and you can’t tell them you did it. If you do, it doesn’t count.”
Lindy giggled. “They’ll think elves did it.” She got out of her chair and danced around the room. “I’ll be the secret elf of Goodman,” she said. Then she frowned. “OK, Mom, what can I do?”
Her mother laughed and got up to look out the window. “Well, Mrs. Parker doesn’t get around very well. Maybe you could do something for her.”
“I know! I know!” Lindy exclaimed, jumping up and down. “I can carry her paper from the sidewalk to her porch so it’ll be easier for her to get.”
She dashed to the door.
“Remember—she mustn’t see you,” her mother called after her.
Lindy ran to the big oak tree in the backyard and peered at Mrs. Parker’s house. She saw Mrs. Parker through the kitchen window, washing dishes.
Lindy clapped her hands and darted to the sidewalk in front of the house. She grabbed the folded newspaper and ran and dropped it next to the front door.
She just had time to scurry behind the shrubbery at the side of the house before the front door opened. Lindy bent a branch of the bush just the tiniest bit so that she could see Mrs. Parker.
“These old legs are not what they used to be,” Lindy heard Mrs. Parker mumble. Then Lindy heard a click as Mrs. Parker unlatched the screen.
“My, my! How did you get on the porch?” Mrs. Parker asked, bending to pick up the paper. She looked first up the street, then down the street.
Lindy clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle her excited giggles.
“Somebody sure has been kind to me,” Mrs. Parker said, shaking her head. “My poor legs say thank you, whoever you are,” she called out. She shook her head again and went back inside.
Lindy smiled happily as she scampered back over into her yard and sat on her swing. While she swung slowly, she thought about what her next adventure would be. Gazing down the street, she saw papers and cans strewn all over Mr. Johnson’s yard.
“That’s it? She jumped out of the swing, ran to the house, tugged the screen door open, and ran in.
“Mom, I need a garbage bag quick. The dogs have made a mess of Mr. Johnson’s yard. Would you call him on the phone, please, and keep him talking so he won’t see me clean it up?”
Lindy dashed to the door, then stopped and turned to her mother. “And, Mom,” she said with a big grin, “it’s going to be a fun summer!”

With Danielle and Michelle Hancock of the Lakeside First Ward, Show Low Arizona Stake, you might think you’re seeing double since they are identical twins, but the sisters are ace spellers trading off taking first and second in their district competition for the past three years.
In the past, Michelle won the county spelling bee and went on to win the Arizona State Spelling Bee. She represented the state in the national contest.
This year, Danielle won the county spelling bee and went on to the state competition. She took second place but only after setting a state record for spelling bee rounds. She participated in 82 rounds with the final 61 rounds just between her and the eventual state champ.
Both girls are honor students, and both were awarded All Sports Awards from their schools for making all the sports teams this past year.

The ballerina glides across the stage—spiraling, spinning, then springing into the air so easily it’s as if she caught gravity napping. She is in every movement a fluid expression of freedom.
Like many little girls, when Maria Victoria Rojas Rivera of Chile—Mavi to her friends—was four years old, she decided she wanted to become a ballerina. And like all of those other little girls, she quickly discovered that the grace and freedom she saw on the stage came at a pretty steep price. The effort and discipline required to become a professional ballerina are too much for many young dreamers.
“When you’re little, you don’t understand the sacrifice it takes,” Mavi says. “When I started studying at age 10, our teachers told us that half of our lives would be spent dancing. We’d have to give up a lot of things.”
Things like free time and certain foods. Mavi would have to put a lot of time and effort into exercising and practicing. She’d have to watch carefully what she ate. And after schoolwork and dance, there wouldn’t be much time for friends.
Mavi decided that her dream was important enough to her to try.
“The teenage years can be a complicated time,” she says. “My friends didn’t always understand why I wouldn’t eat certain things or stay out late with them.”
Mavi learned early on that what appeared to be restrictions on her freedom were actually the only way she could free herself from things that would keep her from her goal.
“I chose not to stay out late, and I chose to spend time practicing instead of going to the mall with my friends,” Mavi says. “If I was tired because I stayed out too late or if I didn’t know the steps because I didn’t practice, I couldn’t dance.”
That kind of discipline isn’t easy, but Mavi says it is worth it.
“Everyone has moments when you want to give in,” Mavi confesses, “but you have the power to choose. Discipline can appear restrictive, but self-discipline is a choice. And I chose to accept this lifestyle in order to dance.”
At some point during her drive to become a ballerina, Mavi realized that dancing was not the only goal she had or the only worthwhile thing she would need to sacrifice for.
Along the way, she gained a desire to follow Jesus Christ, and she realized that what ballet had taught her about discipline applies to gospel discipleship as well. Just as her friends had wondered why she would do what she did for dance, they asked why she lived such restrictive gospel principles.
“I explained that we have the liberty to choose, and I chose to accept this lifestyle in order to be free from sin and have the Holy Ghost with me,” she says.
Or as the Savior said it, a disciple must “take up his cross,” meaning to deny oneself all ungodliness and every worldly lust and to keep God’s commandments (see Joseph Smith Translation, Matthew 16:26). Such self-discipline brings us to “liberty and eternal life, through the great Mediator,” while trying to live outside the commandments leads to “captivity and death, according to the captivity and power of the devil” (2 Nephi 2:27).
“Obedience brings greater freedom and peace than anything,” Mavi says. “My goals aren’t limited to this earthly life but include eternity.”
Mavi floats across the stage like a leaf carried by the current, stretching and flowing from one move to the next—développé and pirouette, glissade and grand jeté.
A ballerina can make her body move in ways that would hurt most other people. This freedom of movement is essential for communicating with the audience. But even though a good ballerina makes every move look effortless on stage, she has put in a lot of effort off the stage.
After eight years of sacrifice and hours of training almost every day, she was living her dream on stage—and in the gospel.
“People think it looks so beautiful and graceful,” Mavi says. “But the movements are very controlled. It takes a lot of strength to control yourself like that.”
The gospel parallel is important. Following Christ takes strength. And the rewards are sweet.
“The rewards from so many sacrifices are that I can dance,” Mavi says. “I feel strong, and I feel the guidance of the Holy Ghost in every step I take—on stage and off.”
According to Nephi, once we’ve felt the desire to follow Christ and have been baptized and confirmed, we must still endure to the end (see 2 Nephi 31:19–20). For Mavi, ballet requires similar dedication.
After dancing in Paraguay, she returned to Viña del Mar, Chile, to teach for a few years. Now she wants to take her dancing to the next level. She has set new goals that have taken her to Argentina, Germany, Ireland, and Spain to study and audition with different ballet companies.
She knows she must continue to strive—both on the stage and in the gospel. She must continue with discipline if she wants the freedom to dance. And she must continue in faith if she wants the freedom that comes from discipleship. “If ye continue in my word,” the Lord taught, “then are ye my disciples indeed: and ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free” (John 8:31–32).
Mavi has to put in a lot of effort off the stage to stay healthy and in shape. Aside from watching what she eats and getting enough rest, Mavi exercises a lot, and she dances at least five hours almost every day. But she doesn’t take care of herself just because she’s a dancer.
“As a member of the Church, I understand that my body is the temple of my spirit. As an artist, I need every part of my body to work right, so I protect it as best as I can. But as a member, I already knew I should do that.”
Her testimony of the Word of Wisdom’s inspired nature has been strengthened by her experience with ballet. “When you treat your body right, you can tell,” she says.
You have to take care of yourself to be a ballerina, but Mavi says, “We should all take care of our bodies, even if we aren’t dancers. We don’t get to choose our bodies, but we should all be grateful for and take care of what we have been given. They are gifts from God, and we’ve each been given our body for a purpose.”