Gospel Story Finder

In the gifted program at school, Heather knows a lot about other things too. After studying about solar energy, she made a solar car that was displayed at two area science fairs. First she made a pinewood derby car, then attached a solar cell and motor on top, and then used a rubber band between the solar motor and rear wheels to drive the car. (She made a “hot-dog” racecourse to go with it, but that wasn’t entered in the fairs.) She knows a lot about art, too, and has had her artwork displayed at the Young Artists Fair. She’s also a pretty good amateur photographer.

Elise wanted to dress up. She put on Dad’s shoes and a fake red nose.
I’m a funny clown.
Elise ran back to her room. She put on a yellow construction hat and grabbed a plastic hammer.
Elise hammered the floor before she ran back to her room.
I’m a strong builder.
Elise put on a glittery purple and silver gown and twirled out of her room.
Elise liked being a princess. She stayed dressed in her gown for the rest of the day.
I’m a beautiful princess.
At bedtime Elise changed into her favorite green pajamas. She walked out of her room and sat on Mom’s lap.
Who are you?
I am Elise. I am a child of God.

Craig Symes was just another locker-room attendant at the health spa I went to when my wife Sue and I lived in St. Petersburg, Florida. He looked like your average 16-year-old—average height, average brown hair. He had the typical teenager’s souped-up car and a nice girlfriend. But while he seemed like an average teenager in many respects, as I got to know him, I found that he was anything but average. And my relationship with him didn’t turn out to be quite what I expected.

There was something about Craig’s eyes and his smile that attracted people. I noticed how friendly and polite he was to everyone and that he never cursed. He always seemed to go out of his way to help people. I was attracted by his genuineness. We talked in the locker room about cars, his girlfriend, sports, our families, and religion. Here was an area where Craig wasn’t average. He wasn’t afraid to talk about religion as many people are.

One day we were discussing the importance of families, and I told him about the death of my father when I was 21. Craig told me a little about eternal life, which made sense to me because I had always hoped to be able to see my father again. I was surprised by Craig’s knowledge of religion and his willingness to talk about it.

I wanted my wife to get to know Craig, so I invited him to dinner. “If I go to your house for dinner will you come to church with me?” he asked. My wife and I were devout members of another faith, but I thought I’d accept his friendly gesture.

Two weeks later on a rainy Sunday morning, I attended church with Craig. I didn’t know anything about the LDS church at that time. Craig introduced me to a lot of “brothers” and to two missionaries who sat next to me during the meeting. The friendliness and warmth of those at the meeting made me feel comfortable. Many introduced themselves and welcomed me there. The lesson was on eternal life. I was impressed that the lesson was taught on a basic principle that I could follow.

Afterward we went to my house and had breakfast with Sue. We visited awhile and then Craig left. The rest of the day was a pretty average Sunday—the last one we’d have for quite a while. That evening the missionaries called and wanted to know when they could come by and share a special message about the Church with Sue and me. I asked them to come by on Tuesday evening.

When I hung up, Sue wanted to know what was going on. I told her that the missionaries were going to come visit us, and she was not very excited. But Tuesday, when she answered the door and let Elders Zaugg and Lewis in, along with Craig and his friend Steve, a good feeling came over her and she wanted to listen to what they had to say.

The missionaries taught us about Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon. We asked so many questions that the first discussion lasted four hours. We were interested in hearing more and set a date for another discussion. Craig and his friend Steve always came with the missionaries and joined in our discussions.

I still wanted to get to know Craig better, so a few days later as I was getting ready to leave the spa, I asked him to play tennis with me one morning. He said he couldn’t play in the mornings because he had seminary meetings at 5 A.M. I asked him what seminary was and he explained. I said, “Oh, you have to go.” He said, “No, I want to go.”

I wanted to know what made a class so interesting that a 16-year-old would get up at 4:30 in the morning to get there on time. It intrigued me that Craig would make such an effort to learn about the gospel of Jesus Christ. So I started going to seminary with him.

The seminary teacher wasn’t afraid to let a 28-year-old man get involved with the class right from the beginning. The first day I joined in the scripture chase, although I didn’t have any idea where the book of Alma was. By my second visit I knew most of the students by name. I started attending seminary with Craig every day. More than just learning, I was receiving of their great spirit. I couldn’t believe that youth were so excited about church. I caught their enthusiasm.

Sue and I continued our discussions with the missionaries, and six weeks later we decided to be baptized. Our families were against the decision. We received a letter from my brother trying to dissuade us. The local officials of the church we had attended called us, and my mother also called 15 minutes before we left for our baptism. But we were committed to our decision. We knew it was the right thing for us to do. Craig baptized us.

I am grateful that a 16-year-old member of the Church caught the vision of “every member a missionary.” Craig brought happiness and joy into our lives, mostly by setting a proper example among both his friends and those that came in contact with him. He wasn’t afraid to let others know that he is a member of the Church of Jesus Christ. He wasn’t afraid to be more than average and just a little out of the ordinary.

Eritai learned about hydroponic sustainability while attending Brigham Young University–Hawaii. He spent hundreds of hours developing that idea into a solution to take to his people.
In 2017, he returned to Kiribati and introduced innovative hydroponic gardening to families and communities in response to the challenges faced in accessing healthier food options. He explained that “it provided a healthy alternative to the processed foods that people were eating.”

Marcelino Tossen believed in God, read the Bible, and enjoyed talking about religion, so when the full-time missionaries knocked on his apartment door one warm January day in 1992, he invited them in. That decision changed his life.
“Elder Zanni and Elder Halls worked under the impressions of the Spirit,” recalls Marcelino. Before that first discussion had even ended, the elders told him that he would be baptized into the Church, even telling him the exact day he would be baptized.
“I’m not going to get baptized,” Marcelino countered. “I want only to talk to you.”
The missionaries gave him a Book of Mormon and asked him to read several verses and pray that night about their message. He did so but felt nothing.
During a subsequent discussion, however, Elder Zanni asked him, “Would it be all right if we prayed so you can ask Heavenly Father if what we have been teaching you is true?”
As he prayed, Marcelino says, “my heart began to burn fervently within me. Nothing like that had ever happened to me before. I couldn’t even finish my prayer, and I arose from my knees.”
Elder Zanni asked Marcelino if he had felt anything during his prayer. When Marcelino told him no, the missionary said, “I felt the Spirit very strong. It’s strange that you didn’t feel anything.”
When he admitted what he had felt, Marcelino says, “the elders read from the Doctrine and Covenants, telling me that when the Lord wants us to know if something is right, He will send His peace or make our heart burn within us [see D&C 6:23; 9:8]. That day was a turning point for me.”
From then on, the Spirit labored with him and testified of the truth through numerous spiritual experiences. “I’d feel the burning again while I was alone in my apartment,” Marcelino says. “When I would open the window, I’d see the elders nearby on a corner teaching people about the Church. I could feel when they were close, and I began to take seriously what they were teaching me.”
Marcelino received a warm welcome when he began attending church. He was baptized a short while later on April 22—the exact day the missionaries had named three months earlier. Today, after serving nine years as president of the Ushuaia district, he serves as the second counselor in the presidency of the Buenos Aires north mission.
“When we read that the Lord will ‘send forth [His] word unto the ends of the earth’ [D&C 112:4], that’s Ushuaia,” says President Tossen. “Ushuaia is the end of the earth. But for those like me who found the gospel here, it’s the beginning of everything. Here you’ll find the lighthouse at the end of the world. But here is where I found faith and the lighthouse of the Lord.”

I didn’t try to answer his question then. I could sense his worry and sympathize with him. Shortly after that my sons, Matthew and John, and I spent time at a toy store. Above us a red Santa Claus spun slowly and I heard a mother’s teeth-clenched whisper float over the stacks of toys to our aisle: “Don’t tell me what your brother did to you. I saw everything. Do you want me to hit you right here in the store? Now you go outside and sit on that bench. And you stay there. If you don’t I won’t get you a thing.” John and I shrugged and smiled at each other as we moved on, and I hummed inwardly, “’Tis the season to be jolly …”

Be slow to judge. From a graduate school textbook I read of an account which substantiates the wisdom of this advice. In a large factory with multiple machines, the employees had to work as a team to be successful. On a particular machine the crew was handicapped by one worker frequently arriving late. The foreman reprimanded the tardy person and told him, “If you come to work late again, you’re fired!”
The very next day the recalcitrant was again late. The class was asked, “What would you do if you were the foreman?”
About half the class said, “I would keep my word and fire the person.” The balance took pity and answered, “I’d give him another chance.” The instructor then gave us the correct answer: “I would ask him why he was late. His tardiness could well be fully legitimate.”

In December 1837 Joseph Smith cut off from the Church approximately 40 dissenters in a “high and mighty pruning.”5 This action brought persecution, hatred, and threats of bodily harm and death to Brigham, who had vigorously testified against the malcontents and defended the Prophet. His life in peril, Brigham fled Kirtland on 22 December. Shortly thereafter, Joseph and other faithful members left Kirtland as well.

During that winter, Mary Ann and her five children had to fend for themselves while apostates terrorized them, ransacking their home in the pretended belief that Brigham was hiding there. The tormentors “used ‘threats and vile language’ that undid [Mary Ann’s] emotions until her health became frail. This was, she later told her biographer, ‘undoubtedly the severest trial of my life.’”6

In February 1838, Mary Ann, now suffering from tuberculosis, gathered her children and what few possessions the mob had not taken and undertook the long, difficult journey from Kirtland, Ohio, to Richmond, Missouri, to rejoin her husband. “He was so … shocked at the change in her appearance that his first exclamation was, ‘You look as if you were almost in your grave.’”7

Brigham could now devote himself to nursing Mary Ann to good health. The Lord also knew of her desperate need for relief and care. On 17 April 1838, Joseph Smith received a revelation temporarily relieving Brigham from his heavy Church responsibilities, thus allowing him to care primarily for his family and ailing wife.8

After the gospel was restored, 12 Apostles were called to be special witnesses of Jesus Christ to the world. Two Apostles, Heber C. Kimball and Brigham Young, were called to England. They had very little money, but every time Elder Young opened his trunk, he always found enough for their journey. After they got to England, a local minister sent a constable to arrest Elder Woodruff for preaching. Elder Woodruff explained that he had a license to preach and invited the constable to stay. The constable ended up getting baptized! The minister sent two clerks to spy on Elder Woodruff. They got baptized too!

Even easier than the temporary apology is the written apology. A letter saying, “I’m really sorry. I do appreciate and love you.” Or just an “I’m sorry” note stuck to the medicine cabinet can give first aid to an injured family member or roommate. A friend of mine, a school teacher, received the following refreshing note from one of her students:
“I want to apologize to you for some of the things I said about you at the first of the year. I thought you were a mean witch, and I even told some other kids that. I was kind of scared of you, and being new in school and all, I thought it was a cool thing to do. Now I can’t believe I really said that. Now I wish you would be my teacher forever. You’re the best teacher I’ve ever had. Love, Mary Jane”
Words that probably would never have been spoken were written and delivered. My friend will always cherish that note.

“Finished!” Mom said as she put the last of nine candles on the cake.
Tomorrow Maren’s friends were coming for her birthday party. There would be pizza, games, and best of all, presents!
“I can’t wait for the party,” Maren said. “Ella said she might get me a computer game, and Kisha told me I would love her present.”
Mom looked at Maren. “There is something you can do at your party that will be even better than opening gifts.”
Better than getting presents? Maren thought. What would that be?
“In family home evening we’ve been learning about Jesus and how He treated others,” Mom said. “Can you remember some things He did?”
“He was kind to others,” Maren said. “He healed them and took care of them. And He loved them all, even when they made mistakes.”
“That’s right,” Mom told her. “And if Jesus came to the party tomorrow, what do you think He might do?”
Maren thought for a minute. “Well, He would probably pay attention to everyone, not just some people. And I think He would try to help everyone have a good time.”
Mom smiled. “I think you’re exactly right,” she said. “And I think He would like being kind to everyone more than getting lots of presents.”
Maren nodded her head slowly. “Maybe.”
Mom gave her a hug. “Why don’t you try it and see for yourself?”
The next day was sunny and beautiful, just right for a party. Soon Maren’s friends arrived. Maren tried to do what Mom had said. She helped serve the pizza, and she held her baby brother for a while without complaining until Mom could take care of him. She thought that was what Jesus would have done.
After they ate, it was time to open presents. Maren was excited to get the new computer game and other fun things. She remembered to thank each of her friends. Then she noticed Riley sitting very quietly and looking at the floor. She realized Riley hadn’t brought a gift.
After all the gifts were opened, it was time to go outside for a candy hunt. The girls each grabbed a small bag and raced outside. But Riley stayed back and looked sad.
“Are you OK?” Maren asked, sitting next to Riley.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t bring you a present,” Riley said quietly. “My family doesn’t have enough money right now.” Riley looked like she might cry.
“Oh, that doesn’t matter!” Maren said quickly. “I’m just glad you could come to my party, and I want you to have fun!”
Riley looked up. “Are you sure?”
“Of course!” Maren said as she put her arm around Riley. “Friends are way better than presents. Now let’s go find some candy!”
Riley smiled. “OK!” She and Maren grabbed their bags and ran to join their friends.
Maren felt good inside. She thought she had done what Jesus would do.
“That was a fun party,” Maren told Mom after her friends left.
“What was your favorite part?” Mom asked.
Maren thought for a minute. Then she said, “I really liked getting all my presents. But when I helped Riley feel better and made her smile, I felt so happy! That was the best birthday present of all.”

One evening after work, years ago, I boarded my usual bus home to New Jersey from New York City. The woman I happened to sit next to noticed what I was writing on my computer and asked, “You believe in … Christ?” I said, “Yes, I do!” As we talked, I learned she had just moved to the area from her beautiful Asian country to work in New York’s highly competitive information technology sector.
Naturally, I asked her, “Do you know why I as a Christian believe in Jesus Christ?” She too responded normally and invited me to tell her. But as I went to speak, I had one of those moments where many thoughts flood your mind. This was the first time I would explain the “why” of Christianity to someone very unfamiliar with it and highly intelligent. I couldn’t simply say, “I follow Jesus Christ because He willingly suffered and died for my sins.” She might wonder, “Did Jesus have to die? Couldn’t God simply forgive and cleanse us of our sins if we asked Him to?”
How would you have responded in a few minutes? How would you explain this to a friend? Children and youth: would you please ask your parents or a leader later on, “Why did Jesus have to die?” And, brothers and sisters, I have a confession to make: despite all I thought I knew about Church doctrine, history, policy, and so on, the answer to this central question to our faith did not come so easily. That day I decided to focus more on what matters most to eternal life.
Well, I informed my new friend that we have a spirit in addition to a body and that God is the Father of our spirits. I told her we lived with our Heavenly Father before our births into this mortal world. Because He loves her and all His children, He made a plan for us to receive a body in the image of His glorified body, be part of a family, and return to His loving presence to enjoy eternal life with our families like He does with His. But, I said, we would face two main obstacles in this necessarily fallen world: (1) physical death—the separation of our bodies from our spirits. Of course, she knew we would all die. And (2) spiritual death—our separation from God because our sins, mistakes, and flaws as mortals distance us from His holy presence. She related to this too.
I informed her that this was an effect of the law of justice. This eternal law demands that an eternal penalty be paid for every one of our sins, or violations of God’s laws or truth, or we could never return to live in His holy presence. It would be unjust, and God “cannot deny justice.” She understood this but easily grasped that God is also merciful, loving, and eager to bring to pass our eternal life. I informed my friend that we would also have a cunning, powerful adversary—the source of evil and lies—opposing us. Therefore, someone with infinite godly power to overcome all such opposition and obstacles would need to save us.
I then shared with her the good news—the “good tidings of great joy … to all people”—that “God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” I testified to my friend, and I witness to you, that Jesus Christ is that Savior, that He had to suffer, die, and rise again—His infinite Atonement—to redeem all humanity from physical death and to give eternal life with God and our families to all who would follow Him. The Book of Mormon declares, “Thus God … gained the victory over death; giving the Son power to make intercession for the children of men … ; being filled with [mercy and] compassion … ; having broken the bands of death, taken upon himself their iniquity and their transgressions, having redeemed them, and satisfied the demands of justice.”
The steps God revealed we must take to follow Jesus and receive eternal life are called the doctrine of Christ. They include “faith in Jesus Christ and His Atonement, repentance, baptism [into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints], receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost, and enduring to the end.” I shared these steps with my friend, but here are some ways in which prophets and apostles have recently taught how the doctrine of Christ can bless all God’s children.
That evening in New Jersey, sharing why we need Jesus Christ and His doctrine gave me a new sister and her a new brother. We felt the peaceful, confirming witness of the Holy Ghost. Naturally, I invited her to share her contact information and continue the conversation with our missionaries. She was happy to do so.

Just as God rejoices when we persevere, He is disappointed if we do not recognize that others are trying too. Our dear friend Thoba shared how she learned this lesson from her mother, Julia. Julia and Thoba were among the early black converts in South Africa. After the apartheid regime ended, black and white members of the Church were permitted to attend church together. For many, the equality of interaction between the races was new and challenging. One time, as Julia and Thoba attended church, they felt they were treated less than kindly by some white members. As they left, Thoba complained bitterly to her mother. Julia listened calmly until Thoba had vented her frustration. Then Julia said, “Oh, Thoba, the Church is like a big hospital, and we are all sick in our own way. We come to church to be helped.”

Julia’s comment reflects a valuable insight. We must not only be tolerant while others work on their individual illnesses; we must also be kind, patient, supportive, and understanding. As God encourages us to keep on trying, He expects us to also allow others the space to do the same, at their own pace. The Atonement will come into our lives in even greater measure. We will then recognize that regardless of perceived differences, all of us are in need of the same infinite Atonement.

I recall a few years ago I was supervising the missions in western Europe. We needed a mission president with a certain language proficiency. Several names were brought forward, but none of them seemed to be right. Then one of the Brethren remembered that he had met a man—I think it was in Korea—several years before. He was a member of the Church who was in the customs service. Somehow just the mention of that name and the Spirit confirmed it. He was called, by virtue of the time pressures, by telephone to preside over the mission. I visited him a few weeks later. He was living in Washington, D.C. He was within reach of the number one office in his category. His lifetime had been spent progressing through the ranks, thinking that perhaps one day he would stand at the head of that division. His senior officer had indicated that because of a health problem he would retire early and that this man was being recommended for that position. It was just at that time that the telephone call came.
I wanted to get acquainted with him and was invited to stay overnight. He brought me a message from his superior. The message was this: “Tell that Brother Packer of yours that you’re no missionary; I’ve worked with you for 30 years, and you haven’t converted me. Tell them they’re making a mistake. And you’re making a mistake. You’re a fool.” (I’m leaving out one word.) “If you will give up your retirement and all that you’ve reached for—why? Why would you do it?”
Simple answer: he’d been called. We live to know, in this church, that the response to a call does not depend on the testimony and witness of the one who delivers the call. It depends, rather, on the testimony and witness of the one who receives it.
It was very interesting. We were looking for a man who spoke French. It was not until after he was in the mission field, and we had some opportunities and responsibilities relating to some of the problems of some members we had in Spain, that we discovered that he wrote and spoke Spanish fluently. I suppose if we’d searched through the Church for a man who spoke French, spoke Spanish, and had had some diplomatic experience, particularly as it related to customs work, we would have gone afar in the world and not found him. Yet it was through the “chance” memory of one of the Brethren that he’d met a man a few years before in Korea who spoke French that he was found.

I should like to share with you tonight an experience and tell you a story regarding keeping the Word of Wisdom. When I was president of the Edmonton Branch in Canada, I was in charge of our priests group. We used to meet in the basement of an IOOF Hall, which had dirt walls and a dirt floor. One of the priests, named Max, was playing on the school basketball team. He was the only member of the Church on that team. The other boys, naturally, had no qualms about using tea, coffee, or tobacco, and sometimes using alcohol. Max, of course, kept the Word of Wisdom strictly. He used to tell the boys about the Word of Wisdom and the evils of breaking it, and he told them that the Lord had promised that they should run and not be weary, and walk and not faint, if they kept the Word of Wisdom. He assured them they would be better basketball players if they refrained from the use of these things. He was one of the top players, and the boys respected him. It was not long until all of them were keeping the Word of Wisdom.
A few weeks ago I was in Houston, Texas, and was met there by this young man and his family. He told his family of the times we used to meet in the basement of the IOOF Hall and of some of the things he remembered that I had taught them. Then I told the family of his experience with and influence on the basketball team, emphasizing that people always respect one who will live up to his standards, and that he will benefit greatly thereby. Max now is the head geologist in one of the big oil companies in Houston.

There is yet another gift some of you may want to give that takes starting early. I saw it start once when serving as a bishop. A student sat across my desk from me and talked about mistakes he had made. And he talked about how much he wanted the children he might have someday to have a dad who could use his priesthood and to whom they were sealed forever. He said he knew that the price and pain of repentance might be great. And then he said what I will not forget, “Bishop, I am coming back. I will do whatever it takes. I am coming back.” He felt sorrow. And he had faith in Christ. And still it took months of painful effort.
And so somewhere this Christmas there is a family with a priesthood dad, and they have eternal hopes and peace on earth. He’ll probably give his family all sorts of gifts wrapped brightly, but nothing will matter quite so much as the one he started a long time ago in my office and has never stopped giving. He felt then the needs of children he’d only dreamed of, and he gave early and freely. He sacrificed his pride and sloth and numbed feelings. I am sure it doesn’t seem like a sacrifice now.

There’s something different about Chris and Jason Trevino of Huntsville, Alabama. Something different in a positive way, a way that makes you want to understand why they’re so upbeat all the time and why they seem to have life all figured out.
This is made all the more intriguing by the fact that the two 19-year-old brothers are identical twins—twins so much alike that people get confused, yet with something so different about them they stand out among their peers. For example:
—They spend a lot of time helping their neighbors, the Wellmans, take care of their three youngest children, Michael, Jennifer, and Nathan. They play and laugh with and tease them in a good-natured way. They organize parties for them and take them fishing or boating. Sometimes they all camp out as a group in the Wellmans’ backyard. Chris and Jason are more like older brothers than neighbors to them. And what do the twins get in return for their kindness? A squeeze play. The kids smother them with hugs.
—They take care of three horses at a nearby riding club, mostly in return for the privilege of being allowed to exercise them now and then. They do the dirty work without complaining. They show up when they say they will and do all that they’re asked. They help with expenses. They’re totally dependable.
—They love their family. Put Jim and Barbara Trevino and their twin boys together and it’s like you’re with a group of best buddies, friends who treat each other with ultimate respect. Add 15-year-old sister Allison to the mix, and it only gets better.
Bad mood? The twins make it disappear.
Help with homework? No problem.
Want to tag along while we go somewhere? Great. Hop in.
Yes, the twins treat everyone well, most of all mom and dad and sister. But there’s something else—fondness may be the closest description. This family really enjoys being together, in a way that lets you know they’ll always be close.
—Most of all, at a time in life when many young men of their age and athletic ability concentrate on which college they’ll attend, what teams they’ll be on, and what young women they’re dating, the twins are leaving all that behind.
Argentina. That’s what they want to talk about right now, because soon that’s where they’ll be. They’ve both been called to serve as full-time missionaries for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Chris in Bahia Blanca. Jason in Resistencia. Two years at their own expense. Two years bearing testimony of the Lord Jesus Christ. Two years focused entirely on the needs of other people.
And maybe that’s the clue to figuring out the Trevino twins. The difference that makes them both the same is their love for other people. It’s a love that comes from following the Savior and living his teachings, from concentrating on what really counts instead of wasting worry on worldly things. It’s a dedication that brings happiness so filling it spills out into everything they do and everyone they meet. Add that to personalities that have always been spontaneous, and you’ll find Chris and Jason telling everyone what they’re up to:
—Getting passport pictures taken, they keep telling the photographer about how they’ll be representing the Church. “That’s why we brought our suits for the pictures,” Chris explains.
—Meeting with the county sheriff, who has to sign letters for their visas, they can’t help explaining how excited they are about spreading the gospel. “I can tell,” chuckles the sheriff, who already knows their father.
—At the county government building, they tell the clerks about going to Argentina to preach the gospel. “Isn’t that great?” Jason beams.
—Their mother’s boss, Victor Howard, is a Church member who works across the street. Dropping in to visit, they soon have him joking along with them. But after a few minutes, they talk seriously about the mission he served and how much he loves the Lord, the gospel, and the Church.
You have to understand. Chris and Jason are the kind of guys who, if you ask about diving and you’re close to the community pool, will show you the dives they do. Never mind that they didn’t bring their suits. They’ve been lifeguards here, and the caretaker, who knows them well, gives permission. They look at each other, accept the challenge, and even though they’re in jeans, jump on the board and plunge in the pool. You get the feeling that’s the same way they’ll plunge into missionary work—follow the rules, be dependable, work hard. But get with it—no wimpy excuses.
It’s sort of like a lesson Chris says he learned at the stables.
“Horses are good,” he explains. “If you work with them you learn to love them. But there’s one named Alvin. I don’t like to ride him a whole bunch because of his attitude. He fights me and tries to get the reins from my hands. He thinks he should do what he wants when he wants. There are a few missionaries who are like that. If their mind’s stuck on somebody back home, or if they go out just because everybody else thinks they should be there, they’ve got to change their attitude. You can’t complain about the reins; you’ve got to concentrate on where you’re going.”
And that’s what Chris and Jason are doing—concentrating on where they’re going. Not just on their missions but in their lives.
Sure there are some things that will be tough to leave behind. Family first of all. Friends a close second. Even the horses they’ve taken care of. And school, and work, and just having a blast. But nothing stands in the way once you gain the perspective of eternity. Even having to work in separate missions.
“Chris opened his call letter first, and I saw Argentina,” Jason says. “Then I opened mine, and for a split second it was like, ‘We’ll be in the same mission!’ Then we read more and found out we’d be in different parts of the country. We’ve been together for 19 years, and now we’ll be apart. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is what we’ll be doing.”
Serving others. Bringing them the truth.
Like the times when they’ve talked with Mrs. Wellman about her oldest son, who died in an accident at age four, and where he is now and what he’s doing. Like the times when they’ve shared Church magazines with her, or watched the video Called to Serve.
“Don’t just let her borrow it,” Chris said then. “Let’s have her over here and we’ll all watch it together.”
These are, after all, brothers who are close in more ways than appearance. “We talk about everything together,” Jason says. “Now we’ll just do it through our letters.” That will make for some pretty great letters. Letters they’ll share with Mom and Dad and Allison. Letters they’ll share with the Wellmans and their kids. Letters they’ll share with close friends. Letters in which they’ll bear testimony and record the adventures of two years spent preaching the gospel.
“In the past we looked at missions like they were something they ask you to do,” Jason says. “Once we got closer to it, we thought, ‘It’s the Lord and the prophet who call you, and their way is the right way to go.’ We’d go to church and come home in such a great mood. We talk to everybody about it.”
That includes the 12- and 13-year-old Sunday School class he and Chris teach together.
“I’m learning more and more about the gospel,” Jason says, “especially when we talk about things like the plan of salvation and patriarchal blessings. It’s a learning experience. And I think a lot about Heavenly Father and how much he loves us. He gave up his son for us. He must have a lot of love for us to do something like that.”
“Being as close as I am to my brother,” Chris continues, “it gives me some understanding of how close I should be to the Savior, who is also my brother. Even though Jason and I will be apart during our missions, we’ll be close to Him. And that will make the bond between us even stronger.”
Faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. That’s the something that makes these twins different from a lot of their peers, but exactly the same in what truly counts.
Editor’s note: Since this story was written, both Chris and Jason have arrived in Argentina and are faithfully serving their missions.

It was time to take the cows and goats to the high Alpine pastures for summer grazing. And Hansi had gotten up early to attend to his pet goat, Groffi. He remembered the summer before when the little goat was born with one leg shorter than the other. It had had a hard time even learning to hobble, and Hansi had taken care of her. Now the boy was shaking with excitement as he huddled in the dark stable with his little pet. Hansi was planning to do something that might be dangerous for both of them. But he felt it was the only way to show his father how much the little crippled animal meant to him and the only way to keep her for himself.
The goat had been no trouble during the winter when the animals were in the stable and out of the cold and snow. But his father had said, “You may keep the goat until spring. Then we must give her to old Simon up on the mountainside. He will take good care of Groffi. This little one would only be in the way during the steep climb to the meadows. I’m afraid she would never make it.”
Hansi was troubled and tried to convince his father that Groffi would be no trouble, but his father was firm about it. “Every animal must be worth its keep,” his father explained. “When you are a herdsman, you will understand.”
Hansi wanted very much to be a herdsman someday, to wear the velvet jacket with red designs on it, and to blow the long alpenhorn. But just now, what he wanted most was to keep Groffi with the other animals and not give her away. Old Simon must be a strange, gruff man, to live alone so far away from the people in the Village. How would such a man treat a goat that limps? Hansi wondered.
So on this festival day when all the villagers would travel in a procession partway up the mountain with the herdsmen and the animals, Hansi was going ahead of them alone with Groffi to the high pasture. If I do this, he thought, Father will see that Groffi can make the climb and will let me keep her.
He peeked out the stable door. His family and all the others in the village were dressing in their gay costumes, preparing to start. Dogs were barking and cowbells jangled. People would soon be busy putting garlands of flowers around the cows’ necks and loading milk pails in the cheese carts the little donkeys would pull. Maybe they’ll be too busy to notice I’m missing, he hoped.
With Groffi in his arms, Hansi stepped out of the stable and hurried behind it then over to the trail that led up the mountain. He started up the path carrying Groffi, but she soon became heavy.
Hansi put her down and she was able to climb along, but she was in no hurry. She stopped often to nibble daisies and forget-me-nots along with the grass. “Hurry, Groffi,” Hansi urged. “Wait until we get to the meadows, then you can eat. Oh, I wish you had some climbing shoes like mine!”
Hansi looked up the mountain and knew that he was doing a risky thing. Even the herdsmen who had been climbing for years were careful of every step and kept close watch on the animals. Goats have sure feet, but Groffi was not like other goats. And Hansi knew he should not be going alone with her. But he kept on, half pushing, half carrying his pet. After a while Hansi guessed they were about a mile from the village. It was a good head start from the others, who probably hadn’t left home yet.
Soon Hansi came to the place where he knew he must leave the path to circle around Simon’s hut. If the old man saw him, he would ask questions, and Hansi didn’t want to have to answer them. Off to the side it was rocky, and Hansi knew he must test every step. He put one foot on a smooth shale rock almost as big as a table. It ought to be solid, he reasoned. Then he picked up Groffi and tried his weight on the rock. But he had barely stood up on it when the rock slipped and started sliding rapidly down the mountain with Hansi and Groffi on top of it. They were thrown off when the rock hit a tree. Hansi grabbed his scraped leg and looked for Groffi. But his pet was nowhere to be seen.
Hansi knew he was in trouble and that he had acted foolishly. But for the moment he could only sit still and try to keep back the tears. After a while Hansi heard footsteps. He looked up and saw Simon coming toward him. At first Hansi was frightened, but then he saw Groffi hobbling along close to the old man. Simon’s hand was warm and his voice was soft as he helped Hansi to his feet and asked, “Are you hurt, my boy?”
“Only bruised,” Hansi replied, brushing himself off and wiping his tears with the soft handkerchief Simon handed him. And to his surprise he was soon telling Simon the whole story. At the end he admitted, “I was afraid you wouldn’t love Groffi as I do.”
The old man’s eyes twinkled. “Who should love a goat anyway? Only a little boy? I have lots of love, enough for goats as well as boys.” Groffi nuzzled Simon as he rubbed her head behind her ears.
Hansi smiled. He knew that Groffi would have a good home and that made it easier to give her up. “Can I come often to visit her?” he asked.
“Of course, come anytime. An old man needs more than animals to love.”
Hansi’s face clouded again as he remembered that he still had to go back down and face his father. “Father will be angry with me,” the boy explained.
“Yes, that’s true,” Simon agreed. “But he’ll forgive you, I’m sure. If a boy and an old man can love a goat so much, don’t you think a father can love a son even more?”

If you’ve ever wished somebody would make a movie from a Jack Weyland story, your wish has come true. The youth and leaders of the Cypress California Stake have turned Brother Weyland’s story “The Award,” published in the November 1979 New Era, into an exciting video production that has touched the hearts of many thousands of viewers with its special magic.
“The Award” is the story of several high school football stars who decide to reward the ugliest girl in their school with a corsage and a poem extolling her ugliness. They assign Kevin, the only Latter-day Saint on the team, to deliver the “award.” When Kevin reads the poem to his girl friend, Colleen, she begs him not to go through with the cruel joke, but he is afraid of losing his friends if he backs out. Before he can deliver the award, however, he has an opportunity to meet Mary Beth, the “ugly girl,” and discovers that she is really an outstanding person who donates much of her time to helping handicapped children.
Kevin and Colleen decide to go ahead and give Mary Beth an award, but they change it from a cruel put-down to a tribute for her acts of service. When the rest of the football team discovers the change, things become interesting.
Eventually, they too have a chance to meet the real Mary Beth. Some of them, led by the fullback, are unimpressed. “There are winners, and there are losers,” he says. “We’re the winners, and the girls we date are winners. The rest are all losers.”
But Craig, the quarterback, says, “We pick the person in school who everybody agrees is a loser, but then she turns out to be okay once we get to know her. … What if every one of them turns out to be special in some way?”
The video has been seen in many seminary classes and firesides, and it has changed people’s lives. “I thought about it all day long, and I saw people differently,” a ninth-grade student said. A local seminary teacher said that the video was the best visual aid she had used in seminary all year. Another seminary teacher says that her students now refer to Matthew 25:40 [Matt. 25:40] (“Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me”) as “the Mary Beth scripture.”
Group W Cable TV of Buena Park was so impressed that it is airing The Award on 15 of its community networks in southern California. Representatives of other religions have asked permission to use it with their own congregations. Chuck Coronado, a city councilman who is not LDS, has said, “We are going to give it as much exposure as we can.”
For the cast, it was a learning experience, not only in film production, but in compassion.
Cheryl Pence, who plays the part of Mary Beth, is a senior in computer science at the University of California at Irvine. She is most definitely not ugly. In fact, she is downright pretty. But her performance in the play gives chilling evidence of how stooped shoulders, downcast eyes, and a frightened expression can transform even a pretty girl into a drab shadow of herself. “It has been difficult at times to play the role of ‘the ugliest girl in school,’” she says. “If you’re not careful it can start influencing the way you see yourself. It must be devastating to suffer from that kind of a label in real life.” Back to her attractive self again after the shooting, Cheryl is not even recognized by most people as Mary Beth, but her alter ego has had a profound effect on her. “Being in the video has given me a greater appreciation for my fellowman and made me more thoughtful of others.”

How well I remember my father, the bishop of our ward, filling my small red wagon with food and clothing and then directing me—as a deacon in the Church—to pull the wagon behind me and visit the homes of the needy in our ward.

Often, when fast-offering funds were depleted, my father would take money from his own pocket to supply the needy in his flock with food that would keep them from going hungry. Those were the days of the Great Depression, and many families were suffering.

I remember visiting one family in particular: a sickly mother, an unemployed and discouraged father, and five children with pallid faces, all disheartened and hungry. I remember the gratitude that beamed in their faces when I walked up to their door with my wagon nearly spilling over with needed supplies. I remember how the children smiled. I remember how the mother wept. And I remember how the father stood, head bowed, unable to speak.

These impressions and many others forged within me a love for the poor, a love for my father who served as a shepherd to his flock, and a love for the faithful and generous members of the Church who sacrificed so much to help relieve the suffering of others.