Gospel Story Finder

The sound of dogs yipping, howling, and barking fills the crisp air. Their harnesses tug back and forth as some dogs excitedly jump in place. People line the sides of the snow-covered trail, craning their necks to get a view of the mushers (dogsled drivers) and teams. The announcer on the sideline yells out a name—“Spencer!”—as a 16-year-old boy in a giant parka steps onto his dog sled.
Finally, the timekeeper gives a countdown. Three, two, one … and then all barking and howling stops.
“The instant we take off, the dogs go dead silent,” says Spencer. “All you hear is them breathing and their paws hitting the snow. Everyone else fades away, and it’s just this tunnel vision of focus.”
Spencer is used to this kind of focus. He’s been a musher (dogsled driver) for the past six years, and he knows that keeping focused and managing his adrenaline is essential, no matter how exhausted he feels.
Often, Spencer and his dogs will run 200–to–400–mile dogsled races that last three to four days. During those races, he and the dogs have to run day and night in freezing temperatures, stopping only three times to down some food and fit in two or three hours of sleep.
Spencer has had to stay awake for three days straight. He even got hypothermia once. So, if it’s so difficult, why does he keep coming back to dogsledding again and again? Well, part of it is because of his skinny leg.
Photographs courtesy of Suzette Bruggeman
For Spencer, dogsledding came about in an unexpected way. “I was born with a birth defect in my left leg that causes the veins in my leg to be atrophied, so not enough blood goes to that leg,” he explains. “There’s not a lot of growth and muscle mass, so my left leg is shorter and skinnier than the right.”
Growing up, he could walk and run, but some things were still difficult for him. “I grew up in a family and community of athletes. My two older brothers, Chase and Brandon, are both big football players, which led me to want to pursue football too.”
However, after playing football for two years in elementary school, Spencer soon realized the other kids were just too fast and it was too difficult for him to keep up. “I was sad. I struggled because I felt like I couldn’t have something to work toward.”
Then one day as he was reading The Call of the Wild by Jack London, an idea popped into his mind—what about dogsledding? “I was fascinated by the idea of dogsledding. I was with my mom after school one day when I piped up and said, ‘We should start dogsledding!’ My mom stopped dead in her tracks and retorted, ‘You’ve been talking to your dad!’ It turned out that my dad had been thinking about getting a dogsled team too! It was destiny.”
Spencer’s family held a meeting and agreed that dogsledding would be the perfect sport for Spencer. He says, “I figured it would be good for me because it doesn’t involve a lot of leg strength and speed, but it does require endurance, both physically and mentally.”
Pulling everything together for a team took a lot of work, though. “My dad and I researched the sport and talked to several mushers who helped us get started,” Spencer says. “We got our Alaskan Huskies a few at a time until we had enough for two teams—one for me and one for my dad.” They affectionately named their team of dogs the “Skinny Leg Sled Dogs,” after Spencer’s skinny leg.
Spencer’s dad supports him and races with his team of dogs.
Of course, the work didn’t stop there. Spencer and his family now take care of 51 dogs at their home in Montana, USA, not to mention their other pets (two falcons, two cats, and some canaries).
Spencer works hard to take care of his dogs.
“We spend an hour each day feeding the dogs, giving them water, and scooping up poop,” Spencer says. “In the winter, we make 70 pounds of meat stew each day to feed them enough calories. We also do our own veterinary work, like vaccines and stitches. We train them for two to three hours every day during fall and winter. And during the winter weekends, we’ll run about 100 miles. Then, of course, all of that culminates in the races, which are a lot of work.”
Obviously, dogsledding is challenging and time-consuming. But Spencer says it has blessed his life in many ways, especially when it comes to his family. “Everything involved in dogsledding has taught me and my family to work hard. It has united us. It takes all of us to care for our dogs and run long races. My mom and my brothers are like my pit crew. They handle all the dogs during my races. And my dad and I work together to run it all.”
More than that, Spencer has realized why it is important for families to work hard. He says, “If you don’t put in the effort and nurture your relationships with your family members, you won’t be a real family—you’ll just passively be a family. You’ll miss out on the blessings of being a family.”
Spencer with his brothers, Brandon (middle) and Chase (right).
Dogsledding also gives Spencer the motivation to move forward and achieve more. “I’ve learned to push myself mentally and physically through bitter cold, darkness, fear, and sleep deprivation to achieve my goals. It’s given me the skills to stay alert and strong.”
Similarly, he thinks it’s important to learn how to endure spiritually in the gospel. “When the going gets tough, you’ve got to be tough. In dogsledding, you can’t stop trying or the dogs will stop trying, and then you won’t do as well. It’s the same in the gospel. To endure well, you must always be diligent by reading the scriptures, praying, and turning to family and Church leaders.”
Spencer also notes that progression and enduring well require effort. “You can’t just passively believe in the gospel. You have to work at it. All the best things in life come from work. To get a testimony, you have to show your dedication by doing things like praying and studying the scriptures. You have to show dedication in your calling and your family.” Though it may sound tiring, Spencer says, “Everything goes more smoothly with work.”
In the end, Spencer keeps coming back to dogsledding because he’s being strengthened—physically, intellectually, and spiritually. “Dogsledding is the coolest sport in the world. It has given me the motivation to achieve my goals. I have learned to push myself and be mentally engaged in what I do.”
And the remarkable thing is, Spencer is where he is today because of a supposed weakness. Who would have guessed a skinny leg would lead to training dogs and racing them hundreds of miles through the snow? “If it weren’t for my skinny leg, I wouldn’t be a musher. I think it was the Lord helping me turn my weakness into a strength [see Ether 12:27]. Not only has dogsledding made my body stronger, but because of my birth defect, I have developed a strong work ethic. The Lord has turned my weakness into something amazing.”

When I think of happiness, I think of an experience we had in Tarawa. We were traveling to Tarawa, and as the plane landed and pulled up to the very humble terminal, the door opened, and a man jumped in, saying, “Elder Sonntag, please come quickly.” We did not know what the urgency was, but we came quickly out of the airplane, walked right through Immigration (they knew we weren’t going anywhere else), and then walked over to two vans. There was a tarp spread between the two vans, and sitting on the tarp were nineteen young men and women. We were informed that they were missionaries—young people from the islands that dot the sea, islands that really have not even been given names. They were young people who had come to Tarawa to try and get an education, to learn how to read and write. While they were there they felt the spirit of the gospel and joined the Church. Now they wanted to go on missions. But as they sat there under that equatorial sun, huddled close together looking at that airplane that they never dreamed they’d have the experience of getting on, they were frightened. They asked for a special blessing. And we had the privilege of giving them that blessing—the Lord was good to us that day. We gave them that blessing, and then they arose and climbed the steps to the airplane.

Their feet had never had a pair of shoes on them. They had only one white shirt each and the clothes on their backs with just a little sack of personal belongings as they entered that airplane. They had never eaten with a fork or a spoon or a knife. They’d only eaten with their fingers. They didn’t know what a cup was. They had drunk from a half shell of a coconut all their lives. And yet here they were going to be the very first missionaries in the history of the Church to leave the island of Tarawa and go to New Zealand to the Missionary Training Center. They were the first of their young people to ever have the privilege of going to the temple to receive their endowments.

We could hardly wait until we got home so we could call President Palmer at the New Zealand MTC and find out how our Tarawan missionaries were—they were just like little scared mice.

When we talked with President Palmer on the phone, he said, “Oh, President, what a great experience it was. When they came in they saw their first neon sign. They saw their first big bus. They saw their first high rise. They looked at the boats in the harbor at Auckland and were just amazed at the types of ships they saw. Everything they did was a new experience. We hardly had enough water supply because every time we went by a tap they’d turn it on to see running water. They would flush every toilet they went by. They couldn’t believe what was taking place.”

“But,” he continued, “when they came into the classes they again huddled into the corners.”

And then he said, “On the fourth day we took them to the temple. They walked in petrified and unknowing. We had prepared them as best we could. But, President, when they left the temple of the Lord they came out as giants of the Lord. And you cannot believe the difference that took place. And I want you to know that we have nineteen young people who are now worthy to represent the Savior.”

While the Prophet respected young people, he expected them to behave respectably. Goudy E. Hogan, as a fourteen-year-old, sat behind Joseph Smith during a Sunday meeting in the grove near the Nauvoo Temple. He watched while the Prophet interrupted the elder who was speaking and told the congregation that “he wished some of those young men on the outside of the congregation that were making disturbance by talking loud to the young ladies would not do so but wait and go to their homes and speak to them by the consent of their parents.” Evidently the disturbance continued, so Joseph walked down through the congregation to talk to the youths. “There was no more disturbance in that meeting,” added Hogan.

It was a difficult six months. “When the missionaries were teaching him,” María says, “the Spirit was there. But when they left, the Spirit seemed to leave—and Carlos was left to himself. I fasted for him often.”

“A Uruguayan elder who taught me had a character just like mine,” says Carlos. “We had lots of discussions. I would ask hard questions, he would answer me, and I would try to refute him. I enjoyed discussing the gospel like that. I wanted the direct message, and he helped clarify lots of things.

“Then I decided to do my part and see what would happen,” he says. “I stopped smoking—I used to smoke two packs of cigarettes a day. I stopped drinking. I bought some Catholic books, studied them all, and talked with my uncle who was a Catholic priest. Then I got a book about LDS Church history.” He took some time off work, hoping to find a quiet place to study and meditate.

Then, as if on cue, a relative called and offered the Roigs the use of her house for two weeks—a quiet place in the country. It was just the retreat he needed. “I sat down and read and prayed,” says Carlos. “I read the history and the doctrine. By that time, I had already accepted the fact that this must be true. I just needed to make the decision.

“But there was something within me that was keeping me from it. I wondered what the problem was. One night in my bedroom, I had the Bible and Book of Mormon open. And I found a scripture that says that if we want to come to the Lord, we must ask forgiveness from those we’ve offended. (See 3 Ne. 12:23–24.) That scripture really made me think. Whom had I offended?”

Suddenly, he knew what he had to do. “There was something in my life that I needed to confess and repent of. But because of my fear of losing my family and losing everything, I had kept it to myself. Now I knew that I would have to repent completely and sincerely. I believed in Christ, and at that moment I was illuminated with the truth that I hadn’t accepted before—that Joseph Smith was a prophet. And I was also illuminated with all that had to do with the gospel. At that moment, my heart broke.

“So I went to my wife and said, `You’re going to cry. And it’s going to be hard.’ I knew in my heart that I could lose everything, including my family. But I couldn’t keep quiet. It was hard, but María accepted my repentance.

“Her understanding, love, and faithfulness have changed everything in me,” he says. “I remembered Saul of Tarsus, who changed totally after the Lord came to him. That’s how it has been with me—a 180-degree change.”

Carlos was baptized soon afterwards, on 14 February 1984. A year later, he and María and their children were sealed in the São Paulo Temple. “My wife’s patriarchal blessing has been fulfilled,” he says.

While the Hendricks family was reuniting in the Salt Lake Valley, the men of Brigham’s return company were still venturing east on the trail. They had been traveling rapidly and were now exhausted and running low on food. Their horses were growing weaker and starting to give out. In the mornings, some animals needed help getting to their feet.37
Amid these difficulties, Brigham remained unsettled about his meeting with Parley.38 Although he had forgiven his fellow apostle and told him to forget the matter, their disagreement revealed a need for clarification—and possibly changes—in how the Church was currently led and organized.
In Joseph’s day, a First Presidency had presided over the Church. After the prophet’s death, however, the First Presidency had been dissolved, leaving the Twelve to preside in its place. According to revelation, the Twelve Apostles formed a quorum equal in authority to the First Presidency. Yet they also had a sacred duty to serve as a traveling council and take the gospel to the world.39 As a quorum, could they adequately fulfill this mandate while still shouldering the duties of the First Presidency?
Brigham had occasionally considered reorganizing the First Presidency, yet he had never thought the time was right. Since leaving the Salt Lake Valley, questions about the future of Church leadership had loomed over him.40 He pondered the matter quietly on the road to Winter Quarters, and more and more he felt the Spirit urging him to act.
One day, while resting beside a river, he turned to Wilford Woodruff and asked if the Church should call members of the Twelve to form a new First Presidency.
Wilford thought it over. Altering the Quorum of the Twelve—a quorum established by revelation—was a serious matter.
“It would require a revelation to change the order of that quorum,” Wilford observed. “Whatever the Lord inspires you to do in this matter, I am with you.”41

I believe one of President Smith’s most noble accomplishments was after World War II. Starvation was rampant in Germany and in other nations of Europe. President Smith met with United States President Harry S. Truman and said, “We’d like to send welfare supplies to the starving people of Europe, but the bureaucracy and the red tape in postwar Europe are keeping us from doing so.”

President Truman heard his plea and opened the way. He asked, “How many months will it take for you to assemble your supplies?”

President Smith replied, “President Truman, they’re already assembled. All you need do is say go, and they’ll be rolling within twenty-four hours.”

President Truman was taken aback by this slender man who spoke rather softly—but oh, could he move things along. The supplies were sent, and Elder Ezra Taft Benson was also sent to oversee their distribution. Lives were saved as a result.

When I was very young, I loved to play ball, any kind of ball. As I grew older, it became obvious that the Lord had given me a special talent in athletics, and of all the sports in which I participated, I was most attracted to basketball. I came from a family of meager financial means, so when I was old enough to throw a ball through a hoop, my folks couldn’t afford the hoop or the ball. I found an old tin band from a wooden barrel and nailed it on the garage. Then I got some rags and tied them together until I had a good-sized rag ball. Every night after school I would go outside and shoot that rag ball through the hoop. Many times, I would have to climb up on the garage to straighten the band because it would bend from the rag ball hitting it so often. I could hardly wait to get home in the evenings so I could start shooting my rag ball through the hoop.
It was during my 13th year when Dad took me aside one day and said, “Bobby, how would you like to have a real basketball hoop?” He had made one out of a rod of iron, had made a backboard, and had attached the hoop to it. I could hardly believe my eyes! Dad and I mounted it on the back of the garage. He then gave me my first rubber basketball. Boy, was I excited! Night after night, as soon as I got home from school, I was out in back shooting my ball. I loved to shoot long shots and practiced them by the hour.
In my mind I would always picture myself as one of the great ball players of the day. If I were having that experience at this time, I would probably be Magic Johnson or Larry Bird. I always pretended I was in the national basketball finals with just a few seconds left. I had the ball and the score was tied. I would come down along the fence line and let go with a long shot, and as it went through the hoop, I would sense the feeling of being a hero. I won more national titles than you can ever imagine. I could see it in my mind’s eye. I thought about it a lot. I knew I could do it. I practiced and practiced. I also dreamed of one day playing in Madison Square Garden. It was the most famous basketball arena in the world at that time. There was no other place like it.
When I graduated from high school, I accepted a basketball scholarship to Utah State University in Logan. During my junior year, we were invited to Madison Square Garden to play in the first holiday festival tournament ever held there. My dream had come true! I had seen it! I had worked hard for it. Along with Utah State and other teams from the United States, the two top teams in the nation had been invited to the tournament. Our team played the number two-rated team the first night, and it was really close. The game went down to the wire, but we won. I was high-point man and played one of my best games ever. The next night Utah State played another great team, and again it was a close game. We won, and once more I was high-point man.
The Aggies from Logan were now in the finals against Manhattan University (New York City), the number one team in the nation. It was a tough and close game. We were never separated by more than four points. As we approached the final two minutes of the game, Utah State was leading by four points. We had the ball and had planned to stall it out, but we lost it. One of the Manhattan players stole a pass and went down and scored. Now Utah State had only a two-point lead with about a minute and a half to go. We came down the floor again and worked around the key until an open shot came. One of our players drove in and missed it. Manhattan got the ball again and scored. Now the score was tied with a minute or less to go. We had the ball, came down the court, and missed our shot. The rebound went to Manhattan, and now they had the ball with about 35 seconds to go. We didn’t dare foul them. What a terrible position to be in! At times like that, you wonder why you ever took up the sport. Manhattan worked the ball around until there were about 10 seconds left, and then the player who had been hitting all night faked out in front, drove to the bucket, and laid it up. I can still see that ball as it rolled around the rim but finally fell off. One of our players pulled down the rebound and threw it to me. I came down the side of the court and let the ball fly from about 30 feet out. It split the net! The final buzzer rang, and we had won the national holiday festival tournament! As that buzzer went off, I thought to myself, “I’ve done this before.” I had. In my mind’s eye and in the backyard, I had done it hundreds and hundreds of times. I had practiced and practiced. I had worked for it. Because of my faith and work, the Lord blessed me.

What would you do if you were suddenly told your family was moving to an isolated logging camp way out in the wilds of Alaska? You’d hopefully do what 14-year-old Gayle Gentry did—you’d adjust.
Gayle and her family order their food from Juneau, and they order their church supplies from the same city. They are the only members for quite some distance, so they hold Church meetings at home.
Just because they are so far away from many people and from the center of the Church, Gayle doesn’t feel she has to be far away from the Lord. Her testimony is intact and stronger than ever. “I know the Church is true and that President Ezra Taft Benson is a prophet,” she says. “I love my family and friends, and I love my Father in Heaven and my older brother Jesus Christ, and I know they love me!”

As they walk through the Kiev Botanical Gardens, Lilia Velbivets and Aliona Papilenkova explain. “Youth in the Church are a lot like those trees,” Lilia says. “We shelter each other, we protect each other, and together we grow straight and true.”
Lilia talks about her family’s growth in the gospel. “My mother and I met the sister missionaries, and we were excited to learn about another testament of Jesus Christ (the Book of Mormon). But my father was an atheist and slower to convert.” As the family took the discussions regularly, however, her father’s heart was touched. All three were baptized on the same day.
“The next year was wonderful as we prepared to go to the temple (in Freiberg, Germany) to be sealed as a family,” Lilia continues. “When we arrived I felt like I was at home, because the temple is the house of God and we are His children.”

Sam’s head felt hot. He had a runny nose. His sister Martha was sick too. Mom said Sam and Martha were too sick to go to church.
“Can we play with trucks?” Sam asked.
“Not right now,” Mom said. “We are going to have our own Primary!”
“How can I have Primary without my teacher?” Sam asked.
“Who will give a talk?” Martha asked.
“I have a plan.” Mom winked at them. “I can be the teacher. And I know someone very special who can give the talk.”
“Who?” Sam asked.
“You’ll see!” Mom said.
Sam and Martha went to Martha’s room. They set up three chairs.
“Welcome to our pretend Primary,” Mom said. Then they sang “I Am a Child of God” and said a prayer.
Martha chose more songs to sing. Mom told a story about Jesus. Sam and Martha colored pictures.
Sam liked their pretend Primary! But who was going to give the talk? There was nobody there except Sam, Martha, and Mom.
Finally Mom got her laptop. She put it on Martha’s bed.
“Now we have a special guest. President Thomas S. Monson is here to talk to us!” Mom clicked on a video on the computer screen. President Monson started telling them a story.
Sam smiled. He liked his special Primary with the prophet!

President Kimball’s visit to Australia was the second official visit of a president of the Church. The first was President David O. McKay in 1955. When President McKay was in Brisbane, Australia, the mission president one day took him out to see the city. During the course of the day they were looking across the Brisbane River into a new suburb which was known as Chermside. President McKay said to the mission president, “Do we have any missionaries in that area?” The mission president said, “No.” President McKay said, “Send the missionaries in, for the people are ready.” Missionaries were sent into the area and they enjoyed tremendous success. Today Chermside is part of the Brisbane Fourth Ward of the Brisbane Australia Stake.

Two sister missionaries from the United States had come to my grandmother’s home one day and gave her a copy of the Book of Mormon. They thought she had no interest in the Church, for she answered their questions with nothing more than a simple nod and a yes. But when they returned the next day, they found she had begun reading the book and could answer everything they asked her. A few days later she became one of the first converts in El Salvador. She was faithful all of her life.

Even Maricar Mendoza, who admits she’s somewhat shy, didn’t hesitate to raise her hand when her teacher one day asked who in the class wasn’t Catholic. A discussion of religion was going on, and Maricar felt she had to speak up. “I said, ‘Ma’am, I’m a Mormon.’ I explained to her what our church is, and I was able to discuss a lot of things such as latter-day prophets, Joseph Smith, and the plan of salvation,” she says.
Maricar still considers herself shy. But she’s glad she spoke up.

He smiled as he reminded his daughter of one of her favorite rides at the amusement park when she was younger. “Remember how much time you used to spend on that large spinning platform? You and the other children would scramble toward the center and try to hold your places as the huge platform spun around. It was just like a giant turntable.”
“Oh, yes,” the daughter replied. “Once that turntable started spinning, the children closest to the edge went sliding off just like that cotton ball, and the ones who managed to hold their position near the center stayed on. I tried my best to work my way from the edge toward the center, but it was a real struggle. I had to crawl and pull myself along. And if that weren’t hard enough, I always had to watch out for the children who didn’t make it to the center, because they usually grabbed someone else as they spun off and tried to take them with them.”
“In a way, life is like that,” her father explained. “There are struggles, and people going downward sometimes tend to drag those nearby down with them. We, on the other hand, are trying to climb against those forces that are pulling us down.
“Now back to your question. How can you enjoy the companionship of your friends without being pulled down by the ways of the world? If you want to go up and onward, you behave one way. If you want to go down and out, you behave another way.”
“I want to go up, Dad,” she replied. “I want to reach my goals—my eternal goals.”
“If that’s the direction you want to go, let’s take some lessons from those expert mountain climbers you recently met. What do you remember most about their experiences?”
“Oh, I learned a lot, but the most important thing I remember is their advance planning. They anticipated everything that could possibly happen and were prepared with decisions made well in advance in response to whatever they might encounter.
“Their teamwork was really impressive to me too. As they had tremendous hardships to overcome and heights to climb, they linked themselves together with ropes. The ropes were attached to something solid above as they pulled themselves up. Occasionally even the other people to whom they were linked became their anchors. We saw photographs showing one person dangling in midair while being tethered to people he trusted both above and below. He didn’t fall because of his ties to other people!
“They also maintained excellent communications. Even though they might have been temporarily separated, they were always in good communication. It seemed that the closer they were to potential danger, the more they leaned toward the center.”
“Did anyone ask the question ‘How close to the edge can I come?’” prompted her father.
“No! Quite the contrary. Their emphasis always seemed to be ‘How close to the center can I stay!’” Then, with a look of understanding, she replied, “Now I’m beginning to understand what you are trying to tell me.”
“In that case,” said her father, “let’s apply these lessons to your question. One of the most important things you can do as you face the challenging climb of life is to plan in advance. You must know what problems might come your way—what temptations. No matter what your problem may be, you must decide in advance how you will react—what actions you will take—just like the mountain climbers.
“Remember you are part of a team. You are connected by unseen ‘ropes’ of love to people who pray for you daily and want you to succeed. Your teammates even extend into the world beyond. Your ancestors are concerned for you and supporting you. Relatives, teachers in school and in church, and good friends always try to lift you. If you ever have acquaintances who are trying to pull you with them on their downward journey, know that these people are not truly your friends at all. Real friends never pull you down; they always lift you!
“Communication in your life is as important to you as it is for mountain climbers. I appreciate you wanting to communicate with me on such an important question. Certainly, your Heavenly Father appreciates your communications with him in prayer.
“Finally, when dangers do come, always look toward the center. Remember, your record player would not produce very good music if it were not for that rod in the center that anchors the record to the spinning disc. If you allow the world in which your activities revolve to be anchored centrally to the iron rod of the gospel, life’s music will be sweet for you.
“On this or any other important question you have, cling to the center. Know what your loved ones would do in a similar circumstance. Think what the Lord would counsel you to do. If you are firmly and securely anchored to the iron rod, which is the word of God, you’ll be safe in your activities. The winds of temptation will not spin you off but will find you safely rooted centrally toward your quest for salvation and exaltation.
“God has great blessings in store for you. You will attain the heights that he has placed within your grasp. Ultimately he will reward you for your obedience. Listen to his promise: If you are faithful, you ‘shall inherit thrones, kingdoms, principalities, and powers, dominions, … and a continuation of the seeds forever and ever.’ (D&C 132:19.) This, my daughter, is what I want for you, and what Heavenly Father wants, for you and all his children.”

Elisabet Perez, 13 years old and called to serve in the Junior Sunday School of one of the branches, recalls, “When I was going to be baptized, I was very ill. I was eight going on nine, and everybody was waiting for me to get better. I had a high fever. I said, ‘I’m going to be baptized even if they have to carry me into the water.’ I was baptized, and when I came out of the water, I was without temperature or nausea. I went into the water sick, and I came out well.”

Now, as I conclude I will share the experience with Elder Maxwell that was so important to me. The details are not vital for today's purposes and as I would not wish to cast negative reflections on anyone, I will be economical with the specifics.

More than 20 years ago and before I was called as a General Authority, I had a very difficult professional decision to make. I considered the matter every way I could and believe I did so in exactly the right way. I was still confused. Whatever I decided, it would likely affect in significant ways the lives of people I cared about and who cared for me. Because I knew that Elder Maxwell was familiar with several of the details and people involved in my dilemma, I sought his counsel and advice. His response surprised me and frankly initially severely disappointed me.

In great detail, I presented the facts of the matter and my analysis to him. He listened quietly and carefully. When I finished, he remained silent for more than a few seconds and then said simply, "Above all else, you must protect your integrity." That was all. I waited for his reasoning and further counsel but none was forthcoming and it became very clear that the meeting was over. He was not angry or dismissive in nature, but clearly was not going to say anything more.

As I left his office and returned to my own, I was confused and frustrated. I knew that he knew more than he said. Why didn't he just tell me what to do? As I puzzled over this, I then realized after two or three hours of agony and angst that he had given me the real answer that I needed. Once I recognized that my integrity was more important than the perceptions of friends or the approval of associates, the course that I needed to follow was crystal clear.

Like our Heavenly Father who knows all, Elder Maxwell who knew so very much could have given me the answer but in doing so he would have usurped my agency and the growth that could come from my making important decisions properly. As I have come to understand these principles better, my feelings of disappointment and frustration have transformed to profound appreciation and admiration for the ability of this disciple of the Savior to teach so effectively.

When I was seven years old I made my performing debut in a Primary operetta in the Douglas Ward in Salt Lake City. I played Raggedy Andy, and the night of our performance is one of my first truly vivid memories. I remember the costume my mother made out of white wool with red, green, and yellow stripes and the large buttons covered with the same material. (Patches of that costume are now in a well-worn quilt in my closet.) I remember the smell of the lipstick making large round circles on my cheeks. I remember the duet I sang with a little friend, “I’m Raggedy Andy—and I’m Little Anne. We’re sewed together, you see. If some little girl chooses one of us, she’ll have to take both you and me.” (We were separated, of course, and the story hung on our getting back together again. It was a sad story with a happy ending, as many stories are.) I remember walking home on that summer night, thrilled with the adventure of performing. And from then on, whenever being in a play was suggested, no hand shot up faster than mine.

Prior to my introduction to the restored gospel, I spent much of my time playing football, including games on the Sabbath day. Even though I had been brought up to have respect for the Lord’s day, it was through applying the principle after I came in contact with the Church that I gained an understanding of the doctrine and its blessings. Withdrawing from the Sunday league team was one of the significant sacrifices that led to my conversion. It helped me appreciate the value of the gospel in my life.
Three years later, when work commenced on building the chapel in Norwich, England, I also withdrew from the Saturday league team so that I could make my contribution to the building project. The mist of self-interest that had previously restricted my vision was beginning to disperse, and a new panoramic view was emerging, bringing with it a deeper appreciation for and an increasing love of life.

His grandfather Tom, who lived just up the street and owned a number of properties on the block, was a favorite companion of his. He was named after his grandfather. Grandpa Tom, a man of few words, was a sheepherder and delighted young Tommy with stories of living on the range, riding his horse, and caring for his sheep. Little did Tommy know that he, too, would care for sheep in his adult years. Just not on horseback.
One day Tommy and grandpa were sitting on the front porch swing. Down the road came one of their neighbors, an elderly Englishman named Bob. He walked with shoulders slumped and a sorrowful cast on his face. Tom Condie called out, “Bob, how are you today.”
Bob just shook his head.
Tom continued, “Come up and sit with us a spell.”
Bob joined Tom and Tommy on the swing and after a few minutes, Grandpa Tom said, “So Bob, how are you doing.”
Bob just shrugged at first and then said, “I’ve been thrown out of my place; they’re tearing it down and I don’t have anywhere to go. I don’t have much. I don’t have any family and I don’t know what I am going to do.”
The three kept swinging. Grandpa Tom. Tommy and Bob.
Finally Grandpa Tom reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out a little leather change purse with a snap. He opened it and reached in and pulled out a key. “See this key,” he said to Bob? It’s to that house next door. I own it. I want you to take the key and move your things in there.”
Bob protested. “I can’t afford it.”
Tom said, a bit sharply, “I didn’t ask you to pay for it. It’s yours as long as you want to live there. All I ask is that you just be my good neighbor.”
President Monson will tell you, “That lesson was not lost on me.”

My soccer team went to a tournament on a Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. My mom asked me what I was going to do about Sunday’s game. I said I didn’t know what to do. My dad encouraged me to pray, so I prayed about it. That night, the song “Nephi’s Courage” got stuck in my head. I knew Heavenly Father answered my prayers through that song so I would remember to have courage to obey His commandments. On Sunday after church, I knew my team was playing. I was a little sad that I couldn’t help my team, but I knew I was doing the right thing. I am glad that Heavenly Father helped me make the right choice, even though it was hard to make.