Gospel Story Finder

“Put them in mind to be subject to principalities and powers, to obey magistrates, to be ready to every good work” (Titus 3:1).
Chances are you’ve never given much thought to that scripture, but a number of people are busy living it. Paula Korologos, of the Tysons Ward, McLean Virginia Stake, is one of them. She’s been doing “every good work” for the United States government by serving on Capitol Hill as a Senate page.
Paula seems to glow when she talks about her experiences. After all, she’s about as close as a teenager can get to the country’s governing process. Paula is right there in the same room with the senators as they pass bills that affect the entire country, sometimes the entire world. As the senators make historic speeches, she may bring one of them a drink of water or run important information to and from the senators and their staffs. She does just about everything she can to make the nation’s top lawmakers’ jobs easier. Pages work in the Senate chamber while the governing body is in session. The girls must dress in white blouses and stockings and navy blue pants. “None of the stylish cropped pants or anything like that,” says Paula, with a tinge of regret. “And some of us tried to get away with lace stockings, but that didn’t go over too well either.” The guys dress in white shirts and navy blue ties, pants, and sports coats. Pages must look very dignified at all times, and never, never chew gum while they’re on duty. They must be alert and immaculate as they sit on the Senate steps, ready to jump to service whenever a senator looks at them or snaps his fingers.
“You have to treat the senators just like kings,” Paula says. “You open doors for them when they go out to receive telephone calls, you have to memorize their messages, and you go all over the Capitol finding them and delivering notes to them.”
Does her self-described “peon” status ever bother her? “Not at all,” she says. “Sometimes I think, Hey—they deserve it. Look what they’re doing for me. They really are working on bills that they think will help the country.”
She feels it’s a privilege to help them in return. In fact, probably her favorite part of being a page comes on Tuesday afternoons, when the pages are responsible for preparing a place for and waiting on the vice president during his official luncheon. “It’s really exciting to be in the same room with the vice president and all the other important guests,” she says.
That enthusiasm is characteristic of Paula, who is more poised than you would think a 15-year-old sophomore could be. Maybe that was why she was called to be head floor page after only three weeks on the job. She believes she was probably selected for the honor because of the responsible attitude she learned by fulfilling her Church callings.
“As head floor page,” Paula explains, “you have to be really on the ball, you have to make sure everyone’s getting along, and you have to work well with people. That’s where the Church has helped. I’ve had some leadership positions in my Young Women classes, and they really taught me responsibility for work and for people.”
And there’s another way the Church has helped Paula with her page responsibilities. “When things get really hectic and you don’t know if you’re going to make it through the session, you can always run into the back room and say a little prayer,” she says.
Her family’s involvement in politics has also been an inspiration to Paula. Both her older brother Phillip and her older sister Ann have taken part in the page program. Their parents are quite involved with politics themselves and encourage their children to be active in the community, in church, and in their schools.
But the word active might be an understatement where Paula is concerned. During the school year, her day starts with seminary at 6 A.M. and continues on with school, play rehearsals, student government meetings, and piano and voice lessons. Most days she doesn’t get home until around 6 P.M., and then you’ll find her either busy studying or talking on the phone. “My dad always introduces me as ‘the one who’s majoring in telephone,’” she laughs.
In the summer that routine changes, and most of her energies are spent on the Senate. She lives in Great Falls, Virginia, just a stone’s throw away from Washington, D.C., so she commutes to the capital every day. She never knows exactly how long her day will be, since she must serve the Senate all the time it’s in session. Sometimes she’ll work into the wee hours of the morning, then rise at 5 A.M. to be back the next day.
Not all pages live close enough to commute from home, however. Since two pages are selected from each state, many live in the dorms near the Capitol. You can imagine the special camaraderie that develops between the pages as they live and work together under high pressure situations. When sessions are out early, softball games between Republican pages and Democrat pages are not uncommon. They also go shopping, sight-seeing, and to movies together.
And as they relax, they find a little time to discuss each other’s values. “Sometimes when we’re sitting around talking, someone brings up drinking and I say I don’t do it because my religion counsels me not to. Then they all ask, ‘Are you Mormon?’ I say yes, and I usually find that several others in the group are LDS too,” Paula says.
“Maybe because they know I’m Mormon and because I try to set a good example, people seem to come to me with their problems,” Paula notes. “That’s my chance to do missionary work. It’s hard to come right out and share things, especially in my age group when you’re among a lot of people you don’t know, but when they come to me with their problems, I tell them that this is the way our church teaches about it, and because I follow that I don’t have problems in that area.”
Paula feels she’s in an ideal position to meet and influence people from all over the country. So just how would you go about putting yourself in a similar position? In order to be a page, you have to write to your senator. Each has different requirements, but they basically suggest you be between 15 and 18 and have good grades, dedication, desire, energy, and a quick mind. “They don’t give you an exam or anything that tests your knowledge of government,” adds Paula.
You start gaining the necessary knowledge the minute you arrive at the Capitol, though. You have to memorize each senator’s name and face so you can locate him anywhere, at any time. You also have to learn every nook and cranny on Capitol Hill, which is no small task. The complex is so large there is a minisubway in the basement to transport people quickly.
But in addition to names and places, Paula says you learn important principles while serving as a page. “I’ve come to have a lot of admiration and respect for the leadership of this country,” she said. “I’ve also come to understand more about obedience to the law. You know, the law of the land and the commandments are a lot alike. They’re all given to you as guidelines, but if you break them, you have to pay the price.”
In spite of the great experiences Paula has had working with the Senate, her first ambitions are not politically oriented. She’s a drama enthusiast and dreams of one day acting on Broadway. “But while I really want to make it on stage, I think the most exciting thing for me would be to get married and to have children,” Paula admits. “Maybe I’ll teach drama someday, after I have my family. I’d like to be an elementary school teacher and be in charge of school plays.”
But in the meantime, by serving in the Senate, Paula’s testimony of the twelfth article of faith, which states, “We believe in being subject to kings, presidents, rulers, and magistrates, in obeying, honoring, and sustaining the law,” has grown. “I’ve been able to be there and watch the government function,” she says. “I love to watch the senators spending their time and energy working on bills that will help people. It’s an incredible experience. I’ve learned so much and made some great friends too.” It has been one of the best pages in her life.

Elyssa Portillo (9) of Tucson, Arizona, has many talents. She dances, sings, draws, crochets, cooks, and acts out plays she makes up herself. But her greatest talent may be the talent of gratitude. She is grateful for good friends, good food, and the beautiful desert scenery that surrounds her home. “And I’m thankful for the Prophet Joseph Smith, President Gordon B. Hinckley, the Church, and the Book of Mormon,” she declares.
“Most of all, I’m thankful for my family. I’m thankful for my mom. Whenever I need her, she’s there. I’m thankful for Nana (her grandmother). She’s a teacher, and whenever I need help with my homework, she helps me. I’m very thankful for my dad. I like to take walks with him. I’m thankful for my tío (uncle). I like to sing with him while he plays the piano. I’m thankful for my dog, Pixie. I love them all.”
Elyssa lives in her grandmother’s home with all these loved ones, who love her right back. “When Elyssa’s around, we’re always laughing,” Uncle Eric says. “She makes us laugh when we least expect it. She’s very creative, and you never know what she’s going to do next.”
Nana recalls, “When Elyssa was young, instead of watching TV we just sat around watching Elyssa and her puppy. She liked the attention and started creating games and plays. She would dress up as Cinderella or Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz and act out the part. She filled the whole house with her personality. When she went out, the house was empty and too quiet.
“She’s sensitive to others and sees people’s needs. If I’m walking, she makes sure that I don’t trip: ‘Nana, wait. There’s something in your way.’ She often reminds her mom to put on her seat belt and to not lock her keys in her car. She likes to open doors for the elderly, and at church, she’s always helping mothers with their young children. I feel very safe with Elyssa around.”
“I love her dearly,” her mom says. “She’s my little companion, my little shadow. Everywhere I go, she’s right behind me. She’s a happy child.”
Elyssa also loves her tata (grandpa). When Elyssa was a baby, Tata would play the guitar for her. Later they sang together. Tata was with her a lot because he developed a serious disease and couldn’t go to work. Each day, he picked her up after school and took her to eat at a place of her choice. When Pixie was missing one stormy night, Tata comforted Elyssa, prayed with her, and kept searching until her beloved pet was found safe several days later.
Since Tata couldn’t go to work, he did much of the cooking at home and became a really good cook. Elyssa helped him and became a good cook herself. Their specialty was empanadas, a sort of meat pie that is held in one’s hands. Nana remembers her working beside Tata, flour all over her little face.
“They grew very close,” Nana recalls. “She was his life.”
When Elyssa was eight years old, Tata died suddenly of a heart attack. Elyssa took it very hard. “I felt lonely inside and was crying in my heart. I had a hard time at school. But the teachings of Jesus Christ have helped me to know that someday I will see my tata again. I know that if I keep the commandments, I can be with my family forever.”
In spite of having felt grief—or perhaps because of it—Elyssa has developed a talent for feeling joy. She remembers her baptism as an especially joyful experience. “I’m thankful that I get to have the Holy Ghost with me all the time. Every child in the world deserves to be blessed with the Spirit.” She was grateful that her dad and his parents came to the service to show their love and support, though they are not members of the Church.
Elyssa likes to use her talents to help others feel happy. She studies the violin and guitar and sings in the Little Mariachis at school. (Mariachi bands play traditional Mexican music with brass and string instruments.) Like her dad, she draws well, and she uses this gift to create greeting cards for her friends and family. She uses another talent to crochet purses for people.
She also helps her friends by setting a good example and sometimes by reminding them to choose the right. One day, she came home and reported, “My friend said a bad word. I told her that she shouldn’t say those things.”
A good student, Elyssa isn’t sure yet what she will do when she grows up. Three possibilities are “a police officer to protect the community, a firefighter so I can help others, or a teacher like Nana because I like to help people learn things.” She plans to follow the example of Uncle Eric by serving a mission. “And I plan to get married in the temple and raise a righteous family.”
In the meantime, in the words of a proud Nana, “Elyssa brings us all a lot of joy. We love her, and she knows it.”

Soon after receiving the priesthood and becoming a deacon at the age of twelve, I also became a cadet in the Royal Canadian 52nd Air Cadet Squadron. It was a new and challenging experience adapting to the military method of things. I especially remember how difficult the first summer was. As a new cadet, it was my duty to attend basic training. So while my other friends from school were out-of-doors playing, I was learning how to march and to obey commands.
Unfortunately I wasn’t a very good marcher, and that’s all anyone there ever wanted to do. The sun shone fiercely, and the heat was unbearable in our dark green uniforms. I thought I would faint. The food was cold, and the mess hall avoided all the foods I liked. Military life certainly was different from what I was used to.
On our first Saturday night before bed, all the cadets assembled in the corridor of our barracks. When our flight sergeant came in, everyone snapped to attention.
“In the morning,” he shouted, “we are all going to church. There are only two churches on this base, Catholic and Protestant, so make sure you know where you want to go before tomorrow! Is that clear?”
The corps of young cadets shouted back in strict unison, “Yes, sergeant!” Then he left.
That night I had trouble sleeping. This would be the first time I wouldn’t be able to attend The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I didn’t know what to do. I climbed out of bed and began to pray again. I was desperate to know what I should do. I told Heavenly Father that I was really confused and scared. Would He please help me? As I crawled into bed the second time, I was still worried, but I began to feel that things would work out.
Bright and early the next morning, we lined up outside our barracks in the drizzling rain. The sergeant in his rain-tarp jacket gave the command I was dreading. “Catholics stand on one side, Protestants on the other!” After everyone had moved, I found myself standing alone between the two lines.
The flight sergeant glared across the square and shouted to me, “Where are you going?”
“I don’t know, sergeant—I’m a Latter-day Saint.”
He looked at me with a frightful glare, shook his head, and ordered, “Follow me.”
I followed him to the chaplain’s barracks. Inside, the ministers were still preparing for their Sunday meetings. The sergeant gave a sharp knock, and a voice within called for us to enter. As we stepped in from the rain, a gentleman dressed in camouflage and wearing a Catholic priest’s collar around his neck met us.
“This one’s a Latter-day Saint,” the sergeant complained, then ducked back out into the rain.
The priest invited me to sit down, and he and another priest began to decide among themselves what to do in such an interesting situation. They finally decided that they didn’t know enough about the Church to make a decision and asked me what we believed. At first I wasn’t sure what to say, and then my mind suddenly cleared and I started quoting the Articles of Faith: “‘We believe in God, the Eternal Father, and in His Son, Jesus Christ, and in the Holy Ghost.’”
They both nodded in agreement.
I continued, “‘We believe that men will be punished for their own sins, and not for Adam’s transgression.’”
At this point, one priest suggested that it might be best if I went with the Protestant minister.
After the Protestant meeting, the minister found me in my barracks. He asked me how I had enjoyed the meeting. I told him that it certainly was different from what I was used to.
“What else do Latter-day Saints believe?” he asked, pulling up a chair. All the other cadets in my room drew closer to listen. It was exciting as I repeated all the Articles of Faith. Everyone seemed very interested when I spoke of the Book of Mormon, of how it was another testament of Jesus Christ.
Later that night I made a long distance call to my mother and told her how my difficult experience had turned into a missionary opportunity. I also requested that she send me a Book of Mormon so that I could give it to my minister friend.
The week went on, and finally the Book of Mormon arrived. On the inside cover I wrote my testimony and slid in the card containing the Articles of Faith that my mother had also sent me. The minister gladly accepted my gift and promised me that he’d read it.
I never was able to find out if that Book of Mormon changed the life of the minister, but as I look back, I can recognize how Heavenly Father taught me the importance of knowing the Articles of Faith.

Garth and Eloise Andrus of Draper, Utah, USA, know what it means to have a missionary-minded family. They have 17 grandsons who have served missions, and they have served six missions themselves.
Fostering a spirit of missionary service in your family is something that begins from the time children are young, Brother Andrus said.
Sister Andrus agreed. “You don’t leave serving a mission as a silent expectation, but you talk to your kids and grandkids about it like it’s not a question—when you go on your mission, not if,” she said.
Teaching youth who they are by setting an example of missionary service is also important. Brother and Sister Andrus accepted their first call in 1980, just as their youngest son was leaving on his mission.
One grandson wrote them after receiving a gift they sent to help him prepare for his mission. “He thanked us [for the gift], but said, ‘Far more important is to thank you for the example that you have set,’” Sister Andrus said.

When my Young Women adviser suggested I do a Laurel value project about my family, I immediately knew we needed a family reunion.
I soon found out that planning a reunion takes time, persistence, and some hard work. It doesn’t hurt to have help from family members either. Here are some ideas that worked for me:
* Select a date. Choose a date well in advance for better attendance.
* Choose a meeting place. Use parks, pavilions, gymnasiums, or even backyards.
* Decide on a menu. Make food assignments or go potluck.
* Send out invitations. Make a list of all the relatives. Leave no one out.
* Plan activities that everyone will enjoy. Plan for swimming, board games, and art projects, just to name a few.
* Include a memento or souvenir of the reunion for each participant. Some families have screen-printed T-shirts. Others offer door prizes. The prizes can be as simple or ambitious as photos, scrapbooks, or recipe books.
* Don’t forget to send thank-you notes. Be sure to thank everyone who helped you with the planning and preparation or who donated their time or talents.
My reunion was hard work but so satisfying. I realize now what family reunions are all about.

Pain and concentration contorted Clint Smith’s features as the 17-year-old clung desperately to the cliff face with one hand. A faint clatter of pebbles meeting the earth reached his ears from some 50 feet below. While climbing the massive granite wall, his feet had slipped from beneath him. Gravity tore one hand from its hold and threatened to unglue the other.
The scene would be frightening if you didn’t know that Clint is an experienced climber decked out in safety gear and securely attached to a belay line handled by a man with more than 30 years of climbing experience. After an agonizing moment, Clint got his feet back under him and smoothly ascended the remaining rock to the top.

I know of two visiting teachers who had barely begun talking to a sister in her home when her two teenage daughters bounced in, announcing they were going to Young Women. Her husband, who also was leaving for an evening of meetings, detained their three-year-old son, who was determined to accompany his older sisters. Two other girls were arguing in the next room over which video to watch. When all the doors closed, the mother started to cry. It had been, she explained, a long week.
The visiting teachers wisely gave this very busy wife and mother a chance to talk. She discussed her week and how much she was missing her recently deceased mother. The three talked and shared their understanding of the gospel and the difficulties of every day application. The visiting teachers—one is single and has no children and the other is a single parent—praised their sister for all she was doing to raise her family well.
The mother felt better. The visiting teachers grew closer to each other and to this dear sister. They all felt better. In the true spirit of Relief Society, these visiting teachers strengthened this sister and her home. I feel better. Why? Because this story witnesses what I know—that Relief Society is indeed a balm that unites us, that helps us in our families. Sisters, I testify to you that one of our most important roles as Relief Society members is to strengthen each other, so all of us are better able to help our families. We come together. We learn from each other. We go home and strengthen our families. It’s that simple, yet how profound it is that we have this organization to be our balm of Gilead.

Brother José de Souza Marques was the type of leader who truly understood the principle taught by the Savior: “And if any man among you be strong in the Spirit, let him take with him him that is weak, that he may be edified in all meekness, that he may become strong also” (D&C 84:106).
As a member of the branch presidency in Fortaleza, Brazil, Brother Marques, with the other priesthood leaders, developed a plan to reactivate those who were less active in his branch. One of those who was less active was a young man by the name of Fernando Araujo. Recently I spoke to Fernando, and he told me of his experience:
“I became involved in surfing competitions on Sunday mornings and stopped going to my Church meetings. One Sunday morning Brother Marques knocked on my door and asked my nonmember mother if he could talk to me. When she told him I was sleeping, he asked permission to wake me. He said to me, ‘Fernando, you are late for church!’ Not listening to my excuses, he took me to church.
“The next Sunday the same thing happened, so on the third Sunday I decided to leave early to avoid him. As I opened the gate I found him sitting on his car, reading the scriptures. When he saw me he said, ‘Good! You are up early. Today we will go and find another young man!’ I appealed to my agency, but he said, ‘We can talk about that later.’
“After eight Sundays I could not get rid of him, so I decided to sleep at a friend’s house. I was at the beach the next morning when I saw a man dressed in a suit and tie walking toward me. When I saw that it was Brother Marques, I ran into the water. All of a sudden I felt someone’s hand on my shoulder. It was Brother Marques, in water up to his chest! He took me by the hand and said, ‘You are late! Let’s go.’ When I argued that I didn’t have any clothes to wear, he replied, ‘They are in the car.’
“That day as we walked out of the ocean, I was touched by Brother Marques’s sincere love and worry for me. He truly understood the Savior’s words: ‘I will seek that which was lost, and bring again that which was driven away, and will bind up that which was broken, and will strengthen that which was sick’ (Ezekiel 34:16). Brother Marques didn’t just give me a ride to church—the quorum made sure I remained active. They planned activities that made me feel needed and wanted, I received a calling, and the quorum members became my friends.”
Following his reactivation, Brother Araujo went on a full-time mission and has served as bishop, stake president, mission president, and regional representative. His widowed mother, three sisters, and several cousins have also entered the waters of baptism.

Pam had never really thought of herself as being different. She had always known, of course, that she was Korean and that she had been adopted by Mom and Dad when she was just a baby. She loved to hear the story about how her parents went to the airport to get her and how excited they were to have the baby placed in their arms. She enjoyed looking at the special album her mother had, which contained her medical report, a brief history, and several pictures. She giggled at the two small pictures of the chubby baby in the strange Korean woman’s arms. Her mom always told her that she and Dad had taken one look at those pictures and said, “Yes, we want that child!”
But today she didn’t feel wanted as she huddled in a corner of the school yard and tried to keep the tears from falling. Just a few minutes ago their teacher, Mrs. Macy, had lined them up by the door and asked,
“All right, who’s turn is it to be the line leader for kickball today?”
“Me! Me!” Randy had demanded loudly.
Mrs. Macy had been gentle but firm. “Randy, you were leader last week.” After checking her list, she had given the ball to Pam.
When they were outside, Randy had come up to Pam and demanded to be the leader.
“It’s my turn. I want to do it,” Pam had said, clutching the ball more tightly.
“Come on, Pam. Let me do it.”
“No.”
“You dumb Chinese!”
The words had come out harshly and spitefully. Pam had frozen. Randy, pleased to be getting a reaction from her, had continued, “You don’t even belong in this country. You’re not like us at all! Why don’t you just go back to where you came from?”
Pam had felt the eyes of her other classmates boring into her. No one had said a word. Pam had dropped the ball and had run across the field.
It was hard to go back to the classroom when the bell rang. Pam slumped down in her seat all afternoon and didn’t speak to anyone. The minute school was over, she rushed out of the building and raced home. She gave her mother a brief hello, then locked herself in the bathroom. She stared at her slanted eyes, olive complexion, and straight black hair. She was different!
Pam barely said anything during dinner, but it all came pouring out when her mother brought out a pink brocade Oriental jacket she had bought for Pam.
Pam’s thank-you for the gift was barely audible.
“Don’t you like it?” her mother asked. “I think it’s beautiful.”
“No, I don’t!” Pam burst out. “It looks Oriental. I want to look like everyone else!”
Her parents exchanged glances. “What happened today, Pam?” her mother asked quietly.
Pam told them about what Randy had said and how the rest of the class had stared at her.
“Randy is mistaken,” Dad said. “First of all, you are not Chinese; you are Korean. You’re certainly not dumb. And what is most important to us, you are our daughter, and we love you very much.”
Talking to her parents helped. Pam felt secure in their love for her. But she still dreaded going to school the next day. She waited until the very last bell had rung before hurrying to her seat. She stared straight ahead throughout the class period, and when recess time came, she went to a corner of the field and stayed by herself. She didn’t talk to anyone the whole day, not even to Patti, her best friend. When school was over, and Patti started toward her, to walk home together the way they usually did, Pam hurried away.
Pam kept to herself the next week too. She didn’t play with anyone at school, and she spent her time at home reading in her room. Her mother urged her to go out and play with her friends, but Pam just shook her head.
The following Monday she walked home slowly. There was no need to hurry anymore, because Patti no longer tried to catch up with her. Pam was just heading into the field across from the service station when she heard a low whine. Something or somebody was in trouble! She stopped and listened. There it was again, a whine of pain just to her left. She hesitantly walked toward it. Bending down, she saw a dog tangled in some brush so that it couldn’t get free. While she spoke soothingly to the dog, Pam gently freed his trapped leg.
It was after she had untangled the dog and he was licking her hand gratefully that Pam got her first real look at him. He was the funniest-looking dog that she had ever seen. He had one huge black patch around one eye, and his nose was bent to one side. His ears were way too long for his short body, and Pam saw that his legs were short and bowlegged.
As Pam started for home again, the dog waddled along right behind her. “Go away now!” Pam told him firmly. “Go home!”
But the dog kept following her. When she reached her house, she wondered, What am I going to do with him? She knelt down and scratched him behind the ears. Again the dog’s tongue licked her. Pam sighed and went into the house, her new friend right at her heels.
“Pam, what is that!” Mother exclaimed.
Pam explained how she had found the dog and how he had followed her home. “He’s awfully skinny, Mom—can I feed him something?” she pleaded.
Worried about the dog’s ownership but happy to see Pam interested in something again, her mother went to the refrigerator for some leftover meat.
Pam spent the rest of the afternoon with the dog. She decided to call him Hector. After she gave him a bath with the garden hose, she brushed his coat until it was dry and shining. Then she found a stick and tried to teach him to chase it. When Hector got the idea and bounded eagerly after the stick with his curious lopsided gait, Pam laughed with delight. By the time her father came home, she thought Hector was the cutest dog she’d ever seen.
“What’s that?” Dad asked.
Pam giggled. “A dog!” She explained again how she had found him. “I call him Hector. Can we keep him? Oh, please! Can we?” she pleaded as her mother joined them in the backyard.
Her father knelt down beside her and Hector. “OK—but only if you check the newspaper. He probably belongs to someone, honey.”
“I will, Dad, but I’m sure he doesn’t! There’s no collar or anything. Please. I love him!”
“That funny looking thing?”
“He’s not funny looking!”
“What do you mean? Look at that patch, that nose, those legs.”
Pam drew Hector protectively into her arms. “But I like him! Just because he looks a little different from other dogs doesn’t mean that he isn’t the most super dog in the world. I love the way he looks.”
Her father stroked her hair. “Why, Pam. Do you mean that a dog—or a person—can look different and still be very wonderful and very loved?”
“Yes! That’s what I like about Hector. He’s different! He’s—” she stopped as she realized the point her father was making. Maybe she was a little different from the other kids, but Dad and Mom and Mrs. Macy and her friend Patti liked her just as she was!
Dad went into the house, and Pam sat outside for a long time, thinking and stroking Hector’s back. At last she got up and went into the house, with Hector following her. Her parents were sitting in the living room.
“I’m going to call Patti,” she said. “I want to see if she can come over after dinner and meet Hector.”

Grandson Morgan Jones, 17, Layton (Utah) Valley View Third Ward, has shared his favorite party with several of his nonmember friends. “The year I turned 12, Grandma invited former Church Patriarch Eldred G. Smith (Hyrum Smith’s great-grandson) and his wife, Hortense. They brought Hyrum’s watch, sunglasses, and the clothes he was wearing when the brothers were martyred in the Carthage Jail, as well as a box the Prophet had kept the Book of Mormon plates in while he was translating them in his home.
“Some of my friends were taking the missionary discussions, and I was able to express the feelings I experienced at my grandma’s birthday party that year. The Spirit was so strong. I can’t wait to go on my mission and bear witness of the First Vision and my Savior.”

When David had enough cartoons for a portfolio, he began sending them to cartoon publishing syndicates, hoping to sell them to other newspapers. He got some good feedback, but no takers. That’s when David and his wife, Sage, decided to try syndicating his cartoons on their own. They had brochures printed up with some sample cartoons and mailed them out to hundreds of regional and college newspapers. So far, his cartoons are running in 17 newspapers. Not enough to make a living, but a start.

What do you do when there is only one park in your town and 1,875 people to share it?
“That’s easy,” says Tyson Ekker, a 14-year-old teacher. “You make another one.”
And that’s exactly what the youth of the Huntington Utah Stake, who live in the small towns of Huntington, Cleveland, and Elmo, did. For their youth conference service project, they decided to use donated supplies to restore an old, run-down, vacant park, creating a second facility for people in their communities to enjoy.
Just off the highway was an old baseball park covered with salt grass and weeds. The only hint that the lot had ever been used for baseball was the old backstop on the corner. But in three short hours the entire scene changed. The park buzzed with more than 70 youth, either carrying shovels or paint brushes. It was the first week of summer vacation, the first day of youth conference, and already hot outside—an ideal day for fun summer activities.
There was no stopping these youth from serving. “We’re making a difference for the little children, for the whole community,” said Rachel Humphrey, 17, of Huntington. “And that makes it all worth it.”
Some teens scattered sand for the volleyball court, while others dug holes for trees, a sprinkler system, and a drinking fountain. Some picked up trash around the park and cleared fresh lanes for the baseball field. Others painted semitrailer tires with bright colors, to transform them into children’s playground equipment. Of course, they had to try their hands at making sand castles with the fresh sand, and lots of paint was “accidentally” dripped on clean faces.
But however much the park will mean to the community, it will also mean a lot to those who helped restore it, for this service project affected the Huntington Stake youth directly. “Not only have we helped others, but now we have a place to play baseball and volleyball,” Tyson said.
“Someday, when I have children, maybe I will bring them here to play and show them what the youth, working together, were able to do,” said Elayna Luke, 14, of Huntington.
Everyone hoped their efforts would be contagious throughout the community. “I hope people will see that someone cares,” said Kelly Kay, 15, of Lawrence.
“And then maybe others will help also,” said Natalie Stream, 14, of Huntington. “It’s just like if you clean up your yard, people around you are likely to clean up theirs too.”
The park was coming together quickly, but everyone knew there was no way the park could be completely finished in just one morning. “We’ve created an ongoing service project for ourselves,” said Clint Oveson, 15, of Cleveland, as he shoveled dirt into a tire. “It’s even a service project our children can continue to work on.”
The Huntington community will no longer have to plan all its events around one park’s schedule. There’s now another park in town. All because the youth of Huntington Stake decided the community needed another place to play ball, and they weren’t going to wait for someone else to make it happen.

When I was 16, I participated in a student foreign-exchange program for a year. I went from my home in Ukraine to a small town in Arizona, USA, where I stayed with a Latter-day Saint family. I had never heard of Latter-day Saints before.
The exchange program didn’t allow the family to preach to me, and I wasn’t allowed to meet with the missionaries. But I chose to attend church with my host family and participate in all Church activities.
I felt the Spirit with that family, and I felt much love at church. At that time I didn’t know that what I was feeling was the Spirit, but my heart was touched.
When I returned to Ukraine, I missed that feeling very much. I remembered how my life was when I went to church and lived gospel teachings. I realized what was missing, but there was no church and no missionaries where I lived, so I thought I would never have that feeling again.
About four years later, however, some missionaries knocked on my door. I was so happy to see them. While they were out working, they had listened to the Spirit, which led them to my house. I’m so grateful they were obedient. I was baptized and confirmed soon afterward.
Since then I have been sealed in the Stockholm Sweden Temple to my husband, a returned missionary who is from Russia. And now there’s a temple in Kyiv. We plan to attend regularly.
The temple is the most amazing place on earth. It is a place where you can be close to Heavenly Father. I feel so grateful that in the temple we can receive one of the greatest gifts given to us by Heavenly Father: to be sealed as families for eternity.
I am grateful to the members of that Latter-day Saint family who helped me feel the Spirit, starting me on a journey that would lead me to a family of my own that is sealed together forever.

He moved in with his older brother, and during that year, found a job as an electronics technician in a local business. The dreams of his higher education were beginning to come true.
With no organized Church unit in Libreville, Gabin held unofficial meetings on Sundays and family home evenings on Mondays at his home. Some friends and a few family members attended with interest. Gabin would teach from the Book of Mormon and they would watch 2004 general conference sessions.
Throughout this time, Internet services inside Gabon were unreliable and costly—and accessing websites outside the country was almost impossible. From time to time, Gabin was able to access Church websites and download a general conference talk or two. These he would print out and add to his Sunday “lesson plans”.
In 2008, he met Fleur and fell deeply in love. Gabin remembers, “I found a girl!” Fleur had a daughter, Eve, and he fell in love with her, too. Fleur and Eve usually attended a local Protestant congregation, but throughout their courtship, he taught them missionary lessons. They started attending his Sunday meetings and family home evenings on Mondays. Gabin and Fleur were married in 2013 in a civil ceremony.
At the beginning of 2014, Gabin found an article online reporting that Elder David A. Bednar, of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, had a few months earlier been in Libreville. It was just after the Gabonese government had officially recognized the Church and had permitted the beginning of missionary activities. Elder Bednar had dedicated the country of Gabon for the preaching of the gospel and he had organized the Libreville Branch. Gabin was stunned. For more than eight years he had likely been the only endowed member of the Church living in Gabon and suddenly there was a branch organized in his home city.
Using an email address found in the article, Gabin wrote to the Africa Southeast Area office, asking questions about the Church situation in Libreville. Elie Monga, president of the Brazzaville mission in the Republic of Congo, was informed and a few days later, while at work, Gabin received a visit from Elder Michael Moody, the first senior missionary to serve in Gabon.
After their initial greeting, Gabin said to Elder Moody, “I have a few questions. First, where can I pay my tithing?” For more than eight years, Gabin had carefully kept his tithing money in a small box.
“Second,” he asked, “Where can I buy new temple garments? Eight years ago, I brought a few to Libreville, and every night since I have been carefully hand washing them.” Elder Moody went to the car, opened his suitcase, and gave Gabin a brand-new pair of garments that he had been prompted to pack in his travel case that morning.
The next Sunday, Gabin, Fleur, Eve, Gabin’s nephew Yann, plus Annaïck and Pauline, Fleur’s nieces were six of the ten people sitting in the Libreville Branch sacrament meeting. Fleur was taught the missionary lessons and shortly afterward was baptized and confirmed a member of the Church. And so were Eve, Yann, Annaïck, and Pauline.
In 2015, Gabin adopted Eve. And later that year the three of them—Gabin, Fleur, and Eve—flew to Johannesburg, South Africa, where this unlikely story concludes with significant eternal consequences. Fleur received her endowment, she and Gabin were sealed together, and Eve was sealed to them both in the Johannesburg South Africa Temple.
In 2016, Elie Monga, president of the Republic of Congo Brazzaville Mission, travelled to Libreville to preside over a division of the Libreville Branch. Gabin Mendene was called to serve as president of the Libreville 2nd Branch. Shortly afterward, while attending district conference, Elder Kevin S. Hamilton—former Brussels Belgium mission president and now a General Authority Seventy and president of the Africa Southeast Area—looked out from his seat on the rostrum. And sitting there in the middle of the congregation was someone he had not seen in ten years—a patient man with an extraordinary conversion story and a church pioneer in Africa—Gabin from Gabon.

Being meek means “enduring injury with patience and without resentment,”4 something that takes both strength and humility. In 1838, Thomas B. Marsh, the first President of the Quorum of the Twelve, left the Church, in part because of his resentment that Church leaders didn’t side with his wife in a dispute over milk. In his later years, he lamented the blessings he had lost and returned to the Church, saying: “I have frequently wanted to know how my apostacy [sic] began, and I have come to the conclusion that I must have lost the Spirit of the Lord out of my heart. … “… I felt angry and wrathful; and the Spirit of the Lord being gone, as the Scriptures say, I was blinded.”5

Illustration by Jim Madsen
In October 2011, my bishop heard a talk by Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles about the Spirit of Elijah and the responsibility the youth have to serve through family history. My bishop was inspired by this talk and decided to have the bishopric youth committee watch it in their meeting. He asked the youth what they wanted to do to follow Elder Bednar’s instruction, and they told him they wanted to set up a summer indexing project. Together with the bishop, they set a goal of 50,000 names and invited my whole ward to help with the project.
I was asked by Brother Watts, a member of our bishopric, to serve as an indexing specialist. I accepted, but I had no idea what indexing was or how to do it. I was very confused and just a little bit nervous.
Brother Watts showed me how to use the indexing program on FamilySearch.org. He told me that he was absolutely confident we were going to reach our goal. Even though it was my first official assignment as a young woman, I was determined to learn how to do what I was asked to do by my priesthood leaders, no matter how hard it was.
I soon learned that indexing is part of family history—typing people’s names from records into a database so their family members can find them. I knew this effort was important, and so did my whole ward, especially my bishop.
To serve in this project, I showed many different people how to index and contribute names. By the end of the summer, the youth alone had finished 25,000 names! Before we knew it, we met our goal 100 percent.
I know that every one of my leaders is called of God to serve and direct the Church, and that when I listen to them, I’m not only doing what they ask me to do but also what God asks me to do. When I listen to and follow my leaders, I’m serving too—participating in the work of the priesthood, the work of salvation.

Two years ago, my grandmother was diagnosed with cancer. We were very close. When I was young, she would tell me, “You’ll always be with me, and I know you’ll take care of me.”
Because I had returned home, I was there when she needed me, spending time with her every day during her final months. She didn’t join the Church before her death, but she loved the Liahona magazine, the Book of Mormon, and general conference. “I believe it all,” she said.
Later, I was blessed to be in the Cochabamba Bolivia Temple with my parents when my grandmother was sealed to her husband, who had died young. She never remarried. I felt that they were there in the temple with us, happy and together again. To see my parents in the sealing room standing as proxy for them was a beautiful sight.

Dad, can I invite Jacob to church today?
That’s a good idea, Eric. I’ll call his home for you.
My mom said I could go to church with you!
Great!
Eric and Jacob had a good time at church. They learned about prayer and sang songs during sharing time. Eric was glad he invited Jacob.
The next week, Eric called Jacob again.
Do you want to come to church with me today?
No, not today. I’m going to play at my grandma’s house.
Oh, OK.
Are we picking up Jacob today?
No, he said he didn’t want to come today.
How does that make you feel?
A little sad.
I’m sorry you’re sad. Remember that Heavenly Father lets us all choose for ourselves. Maybe you can invite Jacob another time.
Dad, can I invite him next week?
You sure can. You are a good friend.
Eric called Jacob again the next week.
Do you want to come to church with me today?
Sure.
Eric was glad Jacob went to church with him again. Eric knew that Jacob could choose for himself if he wanted to go to church or not, but he decided to keep inviting Jacob in order to give him the chance.

Certainly no one could write the life story of Jesus of Nazareth or Judas Iscariot without knowing what happened during their last hour. And I would like to tell you about some of the things that one man thought about during his last hour. This is the old legendary story of Faust. Dr. John Faust died in Wittenberg, Germany, in the year 1540. But twenty-four years before his death, he sold his soul to Satan. He said to Satan, “If you will aid me for twenty-four years, punishing my enemies and helping my friends, at the end of that time, I will forever deliver up my soul.”

Now at that time that seemed like a good idea to Faust. Twenty-four years was a long time. Twenty-four years may last forever. And anyway, what difference did it make what happened after twenty-four years? But Satan, with better perspective, said, “I will wait on Faustus while he lives and he shall buy my service with his soul.”

And then the twenty-four years began, and Faust had every experience of good and bad. But almost before he was aware, it was said to Faust as it must be said to everyone of us, “Thine hour is come.” Now this is the first time that he had ever thought about the consequences of what he was doing. Only now did he discover how badly he had cheated himself. Then he wanted to revoke the bargain, but that was impossible. And then he prayed and he said, “Oh God, if thou canst have no mercy on my soul, at least grant some end to my incessant pain. Let Faustus live in hell a thousand years or even an hundred thousand, but at last be saved!”

But he knew that, according to his own bargain, even this could never be. And then during his last hour he sat and watched the clock tick off the seconds and finally, just as the hour struck, the last words of Faust before he died were: “Faustus is gone to hell!”

Now if Faust had lived his last hour first, he never would have permitted himself to come to this unprofitable place. I have a relative who, when she reads a novel, always reads the last chapter first. She wants to know before she begins where she is going to be when she gets through. And that is a pretty good idea for life.

Then, the summer right before I turned 12, I went to girls’ camp with my ward’s Young Women.
We had time each night for scripture study in our tents, and I decided I was going to read the scriptures every night I was there. I began with the first words of the first verse that almost everyone has memorized: “I, Nephi, having been born of goodly parents …” (1 Ne. 1:1).
It was so incredible. I don’t know how, but the scriptures started making more sense. I felt how hard it would be if Heavenly Father commanded my family to leave our home and go somewhere so far away. I had always known the story of how the Lord commanded Nephi to go get the brass plates, but those three nights at camp I could actually see a young man going to an evil man’s home, needing the plates.
I have read the scriptures every night since girls’ camp. I haven’t forgotten, and if I accidentally turn off the light before I read my scriptures, I am not able to sleep. After I finish reading the Book of Mormon, I plan on reading the Bible.