Gospel Story Finder

In the fall of 1911, Alma Richards returned to Brigham Young University with the goal of going to the 1912 Olympic Games in Stockholm, Sweden. Alma was a twenty-one-year-old high jumper from Parowan, a small town in southern Utah. Before going to BYU the previous year, he had known next to nothing about the Olympics. Then his coach told him he had a shot at competing in the games.
“If you will train consistently for a year and a half,” he said, “you will make the team.”1
At first, Alma thought his coach was joking. He was naturally athletic, but he was taller and heavier than most high jumpers. And he did not have much experience or training in the sport. Rather than scissor kicking or rolling his body horizontally over the high jump bar, as most jumpers did, he would launch himself awkwardly into the air, curling up in a ball as he flew.
But he put his coach’s words to the test. He trained regularly and began excelling in local athletic competitions.2
His desire to excel in his sport led him to keep the Word of Wisdom at a time when the principle was encouraged but not strictly required in the Church. In abstaining from alcohol and tobacco, he trusted the Lord’s promise that those who followed the Word of Wisdom would “run and not be weary” and “walk and not faint.”3
In the spring of 1912, his coach told Alma that he was ready for the Olympic tryouts. “You are one of the fifteen best high jumpers in the world,” he said, “and one of the seven best in the United States.”
Alma Richards stands in the Stockholm stadium at the 1912 Olympic Games.
Alma Richards’s eyes hurt as he peered at the high jump bar. It was the third day of the 1912 Olympics. The sun over Stockholm’s new brown-brick stadium was unbearably bright, irritating an eye infection that had plagued Alma for weeks. When he was not jumping, he wore an old, droopy hat to shade his eyes. But now that his turn had come again, he stepped to the side of the field and tossed his hat into the grass.4
As Alma prepared to jump, his mind raced. There he was, representing his country at the greatest athletic competition in the world. Yet he felt weak, as if the whole world were resting on his shoulders. He thought of Utah, his family, and his hometown. He thought of BYU and the Saints. Bowing his head, he silently asked God to give him strength. “If it is right that I should win,” he prayed, “I will do my best to set a good example all the days of my life.”5
Raising his head, he felt his weakness slip away. He threw his shoulders back, walked up to the starting line, and crouched into position. He then skipped forward in a burst of energy and leapt into the air, tucking his knees beneath his chin. His body barreled forward and sailed over the bar with inches to spare.
After returning from the 1912 Olympic Games in Stockholm, Sweden, Alma Richards was honored in a parade.
On the sidelines, Hans Liesche suddenly looked nervous as he warmed up for his jump. Alma ran in circles to keep his legs limber. If Hans cleared the bar, as Alma was sure he would, the bar would be raised even higher, and Alma would have to jump again.
When Hans launched into his first jump, he fell on the bar and sent it crashing to the ground. Frustrated, he returned to the field and made a second jump. Once again, he knocked the bar off its pegs.
Alma could see that his competitor was losing composure. Just as Hans squared up for his final attempt, a pistol fired nearby, signaling the start of a race. Hans waited for the runners to cross the finish line and then prepared to jump. Before he could, though, a band began playing, and he refused to start. Finally, after nine minutes, an official prodded him to hurry along. With nothing left to do but jump, Hans bounded forward and threw himself into the air.
Once again, he failed to clear the bar.6
Joy washed over Alma. The competition was over. He had won the gold medal and set an Olympic record. Hans came over and heartily congratulated him. Others soon joined in the praise. “You have put Utah on the map,” one man said.
James Sullivan, an official on the American Olympic team, was especially impressed with Alma’s coolness under pressure and wholesome lifestyle. “I wish we had a hundred clean fellows like you on our team,” he said.7
Within days, newspapers across the United States praised Alma’s victory, crediting his success in part to his religion. “They call the winner of the great jump ‘the Mormon giant,’ and he deserves the title,” one reporter wrote. “He is a self-made athlete, and his winning of world renown comes after years of endeavor and a determination inherited from the men who established the Mormon religion and made the desert blossom.”8
One of Alma’s friends, meanwhile, teased him about praying before his winning jump. “I wish you wouldn’t laugh,” Alma quietly responded. “I prayed to the Lord to give me strength to go over that bar, and I went over.”9

He was always tall. “By the time I was 13, I was already 182 cm (six feet). But my real growth spurt didn’t begin until my sophomore year in high school.” He reached his full height by his senior year, and, as with most tall kids, it was assumed he would play basketball. That was not to be.
““I never really liked basketball,” he noted. “The other kids and the coaches always kind of made fun of me, telling me I couldn’t jump.”
His mother urged him, instead, to try a local recreation league volleyball team. “I had never had so much fun in any sport before,” Chambers says. “I was hooked! Even though I wasn’t very good, I went home and told Mom that volleyball was the sport for me!”
Great club coaching helped him find his footing in the game, and because of his prodigious height, they made him a middle blocker. Finally, the burden of being tall began to pay-off. After a season of club volleyball, he was anxious to join his high school team and test his new skills. But disaster struck in his very first scrimmage.
““I jumped and extended myself to try and block a ball, and when I came down, I landed on the foot of the guy on the other side of the net and broke my ankle,” Chambers recounted. “I had to wear a boot everywhere after that and I didn’t get to play at all my freshman season.”
““It was frustrating to have made progress in this new sport I really liked, then lose that whole season.”
But from the ashes of that setback rose the phoenix of an all-star career. Over the next three years, Chambers became a feared opponent on the court, drawing the attention of college volleyball teams throughout the US. He turned down scholarships offered by top schools—Stanford and UCLA among them—in favour of what he truly wanted: to play for the nationally-ranked Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah (USA).
Chambers’ youth career culminated in the summer of 2022, with the victory of his Orange Coast Volleyball Club at the under-18 national club volleyball championship. Chambers was named first-team all-American by the American Volleyball Coaches Association. The kid who couldn’t jump had proven all of those early naysayers wrong.

The other experience that led me to speak of diligence to you tonight was watching a man near the end of his priesthood service in this life. He had been a bishop twice. His first call as a bishop, years before I met him, had been when he was young. Now he was old, released for the second time as a bishop. His increasing physical limitations made any priesthood service very difficult.
Yet he had a plan to act in diligence. He sat every Sunday he could get to church near the row nearest the door where most of the people would enter for the sacrament meeting. He got there early to be sure a seat was vacant. Each person arriving could see his look of love and welcome, just as they did when he sat on the stand as their bishop. His influence warmed and lifted us because we knew something of the price he paid to serve. His task as a bishop was finished; his priesthood service did not end.

On 29 September 1988, President Ezra Taft Benson—“with tenderness and love and great understanding that I will never forget”—extended to Elder Richard G. Scott a call to become a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. Elder Scott was sustained two days later, on October 1.
“Sister Scott and I have prayed a great deal since the call came,” he says. “I know the call is from the Lord. I know that there is a great difference between what I am and what I am expected to be. That recognition is very humbling. No one would undertake to serve in this assignment without the assurance of the support and direction of a loving God. The real power comes from the Lord.”

I remember when I was preparing to be trained as a fighter pilot. We spent a great deal of our preliminary military training in physical exercise. I’m still not exactly sure why endless running was considered such an essential preparatory part of becoming a pilot. Nevertheless, we ran and we ran and we ran some more.
As I was running I began to notice something that, frankly, troubled me. Time and again I was being passed by men who smoked, drank, and did all manner of things that were contrary to the gospel and, in particular, to the Word of Wisdom.
I remember thinking, “Wait a minute! Aren’t I supposed to be able to run and not be weary?” But I was weary, and I was overtaken by people who were definitely not following the Word of Wisdom. I confess, it troubled me at the time. I asked myself, was the promise true or was it not?
The answer didn’t come immediately. But eventually I learned that God’s promises are not always fulfilled as quickly as or in the way we might hope; they come according to His timing and in His ways. Years later I could see clear evidence of the temporal blessings that come to those who obey the Word of Wisdom—in addition to the spiritual blessings that come immediately from obedience to any of God’s laws. Looking back, I know for sure that the promises of the Lord, if perhaps not always swift, are always certain.

Illustration by Dan Burr
Having been raised in a competitive and non-religious Asian country, I have always had a great desire to become a successful person, but I didn’t have any eternal principles or truths to guide me. In my country, “successful” meant being rich and powerful.
My parents always taught me that there was no such thing as God. For them, religion or God was a bunch of nonsense and only for weak people. For a long time I considered myself atheist. They taught me that I shouldn’t trust anyone but myself. So from a young age I have used my high ambitions as motivation to study and work extremely hard.
My parents had high expectations for me. They wanted me to keep my grades high at all times. It made me sad to see their disappointed faces or to hear them argue with each other when I got a bad grade. Along with my regular schoolwork, I would also have to do extra homework on the weekend so I could keep an A average.
Even after accomplishing goals I had set, I still felt that there was something more in store for my life. Deep in my heart, I knew that surely there had to be more to it.
One day I decided I was going to find out for myself if there really was a God. If He did exist, I wanted to know what He wanted for me or if religion was just a bunch of nonsense created by the imagination of human beings. I was not afraid to receive either one of these two answers. I just wanted the truth.
Around that same time, I became close friends with one of my basketball teammates named Taylor. One morning I asked him for a ride to school. He said yes, but I would have to get up an hour earlier to go to seminary with him. I reluctantly said yes, not knowing what it was. I enjoyed seminary, though more because of what I felt than what I learned.
Soon after that, Taylor asked me to go to church with him. At first I thought church was a little boring and weird, but eventually I was moved by the warm and peaceful feeling that I felt at the service.
However, I still wasn’t persuaded that the good feeling had anything to do with God. How did I know that it didn’t come from myself? How did I know that I didn’t make myself feel that way?
After many internal debates, I went to Taylor’s mom in search of answers. She told me that I could receive my answers by reading the scriptures and praying about the answers that I was looking for. I prayed without receiving any answers and struggled to obey the rules and commandments that I was learning about. I became frustrated many times. I expected a marvelous and dramatic appearance of God or some sort of miraculous event to prove that God was real. Basically, I wanted an unshakable testimony all at once. The truth is, the more I prayed, the more clarity I felt in my life. The more I followed the commandments, the happier I became. The more I read the scriptures, the more revelation I received. Gradually, my testimony increased, like the rising sun in the morning.
It took me two years to decide to be baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Though I lived many good moral standards and principles before, I can now say that I have found the eternal and ultimate truth: God lives. Jesus is the Christ, our Savior and Redeemer. The heavens are open. A prophet of God walks the earth today. The Atonement of Jesus Christ is real. God really does forgive all repentant sinners. I may not be as smart or as gifted as other people, but the knowledge I have is priceless.

One of the games we played that night was a relay contest. The Primary leaders had placed four plastic bowling pins across the floor of the cultural hall in a staggered formation. Each father was to blindfold his daughter and, without touching her with his hands, “talk” her through and around the pins, across the cultural hall, and then back to the starting point, where the next pair would begin. We were divided into two teams.
When the race began there was much enthusiasm, both teams cheering for theirs to be the fastest. Most of the fathers would holler “go right!” or “go left!” or “stop!” or “go straight!” It seemed such a simple game when we were given the instructions, but it was actually quite difficult. The voice of the opposing team’s father might be confused with your own, and the two girls racing each other would get the instructions mixed up. I was quite surprised at how much trouble some of the fathers and daughters had in getting through this simple course. Some of the father’s were hesitant in their directions and thus lost precious time. Many of the daughters did not follow the instructions quickly and accurately and then either went too fast or moved in the wrong direction, occasionally knocking down the pins. There were, of course, a few who seemed more organized and went through the course quickly.
But there was one father and daughter at the party who surprised us all. This father was afflicted with a serious disease that hampered his coordination. He was somewhat slow of speech and movement. An interesting thing happened when it was their turn to race. When the blindfold was in place, I heard the father say to his daughter, “Don’t worry about left or right or fast or slow. Just walk at a steady pace and listen to my voice. Just follow the sound of my voice. I’ll keep talking the whole time, and we’ll go right through.” At the signal they began, and he gently repeated over and over, “Just follow my voice” or “Don’t listen to the others, just my sounds.” I was amazed as they steadily walked with short steps right through the course, faster than any of the others, so fast in fact that theirs was the winning team.

Elder Christensen served a mission in Uruguay from 1959 to 1961, and it was there that he developed a strong testimony of the Prophet Joseph Smith. “Prior to that I could relate the story of the First Vision. But when I arrived in the mission field and prayerfully and sincerely taught it to others, I came to have a certain testimony of the Prophet Joseph and the restored gospel,” he says. “That testimony came in a vivid and sure way, and I knew what I was teaching was true.”

Emilie looked out her window at the Arizona desert. Even the spiky plants and shrubs seemed gray and cold this Christmas. It was the end of 1908, a hard year for Emilie’s family. Her father was serving a three-year mission in Samoa, a faraway island in the Pacific Ocean.
Emilie knew they would not have presents under the tree this year. Her little sister, Faith, was too young to understand that there was no money for presents. Any extra money Mama earned from selling eggs went to help Papa on his mission.
Emilie turned to Mama. Mama’s eyes looked sad and worried. Was she thinking about Christmas too?
“It’s all right, Mama,” Emilie said. “I don’t need any presents.”
Mama smiled, but just a little.
“We won’t have presents,” Mama said. “But we have each other. And we are blessed because Papa is serving Heavenly Father.”
Emilie wrapped her arms around Mama’s waist. “That’s enough for me,” she said.
The day before Christmas, Mama baked cookies using some extra sugar she had bought with egg money. Emilie and Faith decorated the cookies with raisins and peppermint pieces. They would be delicious Christmas treats! But Emilie knew Faith would still be sad to not have any real presents this year.
As Emilie got ready for bed that night, she picked up her doll, Sarah. Sarah had a beautiful dress and a real china face with painted eyes, nose, and mouth. While Emilie held Sarah, she suddenly had an idea. She loved Sarah. But she loved someone else even more.
Early Christmas morning, Emilie and Faith ran into the front room. Beneath the tree were two plates of cookies, two oranges—and one wrapped package!
Mama picked up the brown paper package. She turned it over in her hands.
“Faith, it has your name on it.”
Faith’s eyes grew wide. Eagerly, she tore open the paper. She stared at the doll, then at Emilie.
“It’s Sarah,” Faith said. “But you love her more than anything.”
Faith started to hand the doll back to Emilie. But Emilie shook her head and hugged her sister instead.
“I love you more.”
Emilie saw Mama wipe tears from her eyes.
“I’m sorry I don’t have anything to give you, Mama,” Emilie said in a small voice.
Mama smiled, and this time her smile was a big one.
“Your gift to Faith is the best present you could have ever given me,” she said, pulling them both into a hug.
Emilie, Faith, and Mama sat down at the kitchen table to enjoy their Christmas treats. Emilie bit into a cookie. She loved the sweet taste, but the warmth that filled her heart was even sweeter.

For Camber Page, 17, of Macclenny, Florida, writing her testimony was a spiritual experience. She’s borne her testimony in church before, but, she says, “I get nervous, and I don’t get to say what I am really feeling.” But when she wrote her testimony, she says, “The Spirit was just coming out of me. I had time to think about it. I was able to write it down without getting up and crying and getting all emotional and shaking. I didn’t know I had believed in so much until I started writing it down. I thought, Gosh, my testimony’s stronger than I thought it was.”

Life was going according to plan.
I was just about to complete my mission. During the previous 18 months, my testimony had been strengthened, and my vision of the plan of salvation had expanded. I had never felt closer to my Savior and my Heavenly Father. Life just seemed blissful.
Sure, my family and I were experiencing our share of trials, but overall, I was excited and had a lot of plans for what would come next. But then I came home. And the shock was pretty brutal. I struggled adjusting to everyday life again. I worried incessantly about making good choices and being perfect in my obedience. I put so much pressure on myself to stay at the high spiritual level that I had throughout my mission because I feared that if I didn’t, I would regress spiritually.
As the pressure I put on myself increased, I started experiencing anxiety and panic attacks. They became more and more frequent, and I eventually felt like I was drowning.
Unfortunately, I hid my feelings from my family and friends. I knew that anxiety and depression were nothing to be ashamed of, but I felt so out of control and lost that I didn’t even know how to express what I was experiencing to seek help.
Thankfully, the Lord is always there to guide us when we turn to Him. After some pondering and prayer, I felt prompted to open up to my brother and his wife. They helped me recognize that I wasn’t as “crazy” as I thought and that emotional struggles can happen to anyone.
Sister Reyna I. Aburto, Second Counselor in the Relief Society General Presidency, testified of this truth: “My dear friends, it can happen to any of us—especially when, as believers in the plan of happiness, we place unnecessary burdens on ourselves by thinking we need to be perfect now. Such thoughts can be overwhelming. Achieving perfection is a process that will take place throughout our mortal life and beyond—and only through the grace of Jesus Christ.”1
As I prayed to Heavenly Father for guidance, I realized that I needed to give the resources He has provided for us a chance, and I needed to learn and change for the better. Gratefully, at that time I had the chance to attend the Church’s emotional resilience course. The opportunity seemed to come at just the right time, and I don’t believe it was a coincidence.
In the course manual, emotional resilience is defined as the following:
“The ability to adapt to emotional challenges with courage and faith centered in Jesus Christ.
“Helping yourself and others the best you can.
“Reaching out for additional help when needed.”2
In other words, emotional resilience is something we all need.
To me, this inspired course is a clear sign that Heavenly Father is aware of the trials we are facing nowadays as members of the Church of Jesus Christ. He wants to be able to help us keep moving forward on the path back to Him. Seeing the many beautiful aspects of this course helped me realize just how deeply Heavenly Father knows each of us and our individual needs, and I immediately felt peace as I started studying. The course teaches clear and powerful eternal truths that can be applied to our lives when dealing with mental health issues, whether it be ourselves or someone we love.
One of the teachings that struck me is found in chapter 9, “Providing Strength to Others.” This chapter is what helped me finally reach out for more help. It teaches the principle of serving one another. I learned how important it was to serve others by validating their feelings, emotions, and opinions and reaching out with empathy and understanding. I also realized that I needed to trust others to help me in my struggles.
When I was able to put these ideas into practice and open up to my family and friends about my mental health struggles, I was surprised that they were so compassionate and nonjudgmental. I received so much support from them.
I feel like my anxiety would have taken a deeper and darker turn if I hadn’t shared my challenges with my loved ones. And this experience helped me reach out and empathize with others about their worries and problems too.
I find it funny how when I came back from my mission, I was so worried about losing the “spiritual ground” that I had gained during my mission, because now I realize that coming home was just the beginning of a new chapter where I could find new ways to deepen my faith.
My personal relationships with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ have grown and deepened so much since I came home, especially because of the principles I learned in this emotional resilience course and through relying on Heavenly Father and the Savior for help. They feel much more real and present in my everyday life.
I’ve learned and accepted that as children of God, we constantly change, learn, and evolve. And yet through our life changes, Heavenly Father is unchanging. He didn’t expect me to be perfect on my mission, and He doesn’t expect that now. He simply loves me and wants me to continue to strive toward Him and do the best I can on my journey back to Him.
Now, just because I took this emotional resilience course, that doesn’t mean that I don’t have any more anxiety or panic attacks or moments when I feel overwhelmed by fear of the future. I still do at times. But now I recognize these patterns and have learned tools to help address them in a healthier way, improving the quality of my daily life.
In the end, this course taught me coping mechanisms for times when I experience anxiety and challenges. It taught me to have patience and compassion for myself and my imperfections. And I learned to understand how God sees me and to not be terrorized by the unknowns of the future.
Through both professional and heavenly help, I’ve come to realize that we have the necessary tools to know how to “act … and not to be acted upon” (2 Nephi 2:26) by our emotions and feelings as we continue to move toward Christ.

I had a special experience after reading a quote from an Apostle about simple but effective ways to gain a testimony. When I finished reading it, I immediately remembered a friend whose testimony was wavering. I quickly wrote her a letter and included the quotation.
I took the letter to her home, and I read it to her. At the end I bore my testimony. I can’t describe the powerful spirit that was present. My friend was surprised and thanked me for sharing the quote with her.
From that moment my friend started to change. She began to read the scriptures, pray more often, and attend church. Whenever we visited each other, we shared a spiritual thought and our testimonies. Today she is very active in the ward and serves as my counselor in the Laurel class presidency.Yésica Florencia Martín, Santos Lugares Ward, Argentina Buenos Aires West Stake

Braden has always been interested in drama. He spent his time as a toddler with a pan on his head, talking to people no one could see. He made costumes out of old clothes. Later he organized plays using any of the neighborhood children he could talk into being the actors. The plays were produced in the Bell’s basement and were a frustration to him. “The only kids that would help him were the little ones, and they wouldn’t do what he told them to do. He was and is a perfectionist in the theater,” said JoLynn Bell, Braden’s mother.

As a young Aaronic Priesthood boy, I received a firsthand confirmation of the remarkable testimony of the Three Witnesses concerning the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon. My stake president was President Henry D. Moyle, and his father was James H. Moyle. In the summertime Brother James H. Moyle would visit his family, and he would worship with us in our little ward in the southeast of the Salt Lake Valley.
One Sunday, Brother James H. Moyle shared with us a singular [remarkable] experience. As a young man he went to the University of Michigan to study law. As he was finishing his studies, his father told him that David Whitmer, one of the witnesses of the Book of Mormon, was still alive. The father suggested to his son that he stop on his way back to Salt Lake City to visit with David Whitmer face-to-face. Brother Moyle’s purpose was to ask him about his testimony concerning the golden plates and the Book of Mormon.
During that visit, Brother Moyle said to David Whitmer: “Sir, you are an old man, and I’m a young man. I have been studying about witnesses and testimonies. Please tell me the truth concerning your testimony as one of the witnesses of the Book of Mormon.” David Whitmer then told this young man: “Yes, I held the golden plates in my hands, and they were shown to us by an angel. My testimony concerning the Book of Mormon is true.” David Whitmer was out of the Church, but he never denied his testimony of the angel’s visitation, of handling the golden plates, or of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon. Hearing with my own ears this remarkable experience directly from Brother Moyle’s lips had a powerful, confirming effect upon my growing testimony. Having heard it, I felt it was binding upon me.

In 1979, while serving as Sunday School general president, I was invited to attend a Regional Representatives seminar during which President Kimball gave an inspiring address about opening the doors of nations then closed to the Church, such as China. He challenged all present to study the Mandarin language so we could offer our professional skills to help the people of China.
To me, President Kimball’s challenge seemed like a prophetic mandate. So that very night I asked my late wife, Dantzel, if she would be willing to study Mandarin with me. She agreed, and we found a tutor to help us. Of course we didn’t learn to speak Mandarin very well, but we learned enough so that when I was invited the very next year (through a series of highly unexpected events) to go to China as a visiting professor to teach open-heart surgery, I was in a better position to accept the invitation.
Fast-forward five years to 1985, the year after I had been called to the Quorum of the Twelve. One day I received an urgent request to go to China to perform open-heart surgery on that nation’s famous opera star, regarded throughout China as a national hero. I explained that my full-time ecclesiastical responsibility prevented my coming, but the doctors in China pleaded with me to come at once to perform the life-saving operation.
I discussed the matter with my quorum president and the First Presidency. They felt impressed that, as a favor to the people of China, I should make the trip and perform the operation.
That I did. Gratefully, the operation was a success! Incidentally, that was the last open-heart operation I ever performed. It was in Jinan, China, on March 4, 1985.
Now fast-forward again, this time to October 2015. Wendy and I were invited to return to Shandong University School of Medicine in Jinan. We were amazed when I was warmly welcomed as “an old friend” of China and was reunited with surgeons I had taught 35 years earlier. A highlight of our visit was meeting with the son and grandson of that famous opera star. All of these amazing experiences were enabled for one reason: I heeded the counsel of a prophet to study Mandarin!

Bing Dao ran through his village, down the dirt path, and into his house. “Mother! My school’s doing the lion dance in the village for our Chinese New Year. And I get to be the lion!”
Mother stopped washing the rice for dinner. “That’s wonderful, Dao. But won’t the lion head be too heavy? They’re made for grown men, not twelve-year-old boys.”
“They ordered a special one, and guess what! I can go to the city of Fushan to get it when it’s finished, if Father will go with me.”
“I’m sure he will. Will someone from school go with you too?”
“No, my teacher told me everything that needs to be done. He said that as long as I don’t travel alone, it will be all right.”
“Be sure you remember everything that your teacher told you.”
“Of course.”
“Now, Dao, you know you forget things when you get excited. Did you pay close attention and write everything down?”
Dao hated these lectures. He sighed. “Oh, Mother, I’ll remember everything. I don’t need to write it down.”
“I hope not,” his mother said quietly.
Dao pranced around the room, bobbing up and down like he’d seen the lion dancers do. He crouched low and sprang up, thrusting his hands above his head, lifting the imaginary lion head high. “BOOM boom! Chiiing! BOOM boom! Chiiing!” Dao imitated the drums and cymbals and danced to their rhythm.
“Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom!” He wiggled his body and bowed very low before his mother.
She clapped. “You’ll make a grand lion, Bing Dao!”
“Mother!” Dao scolded from the floor, “When the lion bows like this, you’re supposed to give him something.”
“How about a sweet sesame biscuit?”
The lion wiggled all over. He devoured the offering, wobbled his head, and backed away.
Dao waited anxiously for the day they would go to Fushan. This would be his first trip to a city. Now every day he practiced the lion dance. Of course, he studied hard, too—after all, the village lion dancer had to set a good example for the other students.
On the Friday before they were to leave, Dao went to the office to get the money.
“Mr. Gu is away. You will have to wait until next week,” the office worker said.
Dao’s heart began to pound. “But I’m going to Fushan tomorrow, so I need the money now.”
“I thought you were to come last week for it.”
Dao’s stomach felt like ice, and his mouth got dry. “Oh! I—I guess I forgot!”
“I’m very sorry, but he won’t be back before Wednesday.”
Dao walked home with a heavy heart. Mother’s right, I do forget things when I get excited. He groaned. What will Father say? And now I’ll get another lecture from Mr. Gu about remembering things. And I must keep my head bowed and listen. Father says that’s the Chinese way.
Dao’s father was kind. “There’s enough time—we’ll go a week from tomorrow—all right?”
Something seemed wrong about that, but Dao couldn’t think why. “I guess so.” He hoped he wasn’t forgetting something.
Mr. Gu did lecture, and Dao listened with his eyes lowered. He promised to do better, but all the while he was really thinking about the exciting trip ahead.
When they stepped off the train in Fushan, Father said, “We’ll go to the lantern factory first and pay for the lion head; then we’ll locate a van to take it to our village.”
While walking to the factory, they passed more shops than Dao had ever seen. Some sold tiny delicate clay figures and large ceramic vases. Others sold fabrics, dresses, or jewelry. Dao liked the clean smell of leather coming from the shoe shops. He saw lots of other things for sale—candy, dried fruit, vegetables. Some shops sold dried snakes, deer horns, odd bones, and old bark. The spice shops smelled best of all. Their sweet and pungent odors tickled his nose.
When they passed a delicious-smelling noodle shop, Father said, “Your favorite, Dao—rice noodles! We’ll eat lunch here later.”
In the lantern factory, Dao watched the workers making lion and dragon heads by gluing bright silk cloth or paper to wire frames. Above his head hung hundreds of brilliant paper lanterns. Huge red globes, pagoda shapes with tassels hanging from the corners, animals, birds, and fish were also there.
Dao gave the shop manager the order.
“But that head has been sold,” the manager said. “We didn’t think you were coming. You’re too late. I’m sorry.”
“Too late?”
“The order says the delivery date was seven days ago.”
Dao’s stomach turned to ice again. He’d forgotten about the delivery date! His teacher had warned him that the factory might not hold it past that day.
“I’m sorry,” the manager said again, “but it’s gone.”
“Can you make another one?”
“Goodness no! There isn’t time.”
“Where is ours? Who bought it?” Dao asked. “I must buy it from them.”
“I don’t think that they will sell it. Mr. Wang at Wang’s School of Dance is the person to ask.”
Father tapped his shoulder. “Come, Son.”
Dao fought back tears as he followed his father out of the factory. “Oh, Father, what if Mr. Wang says no?”
“An ancient proverb says, ‘A sweet gift loosens the tight fist.’”
Bing Dao frowned, thinking about that. “You mean I should buy a gift for Mr. Wang?”
Father nodded.
Dao had saved money to buy firecrackers for the New Year. If he had to pay for a gift for Mr. Wang, he wouldn’t have enough for the firecrackers. I can’t ask Father for the money, though, he thought, because it’s my fault. I must pay for it myself. So Dao bought a gift box of fancy cookies because the present had to be very special. It took almost all his money.
At the dance school, Dao gave the gift to Mr. Wang and, with his stomach doing somersaults, explained his problem.
Finally he said, “I didn’t get the money in time, and I forgot about the delivery date. I shouldn’t have been late, and I’m sorry to trouble you, but—” Dao swallowed hard— “may I please buy the lion head?”
Mr. Wang shook his head. “My students are already practicing the dance. How can I disappoint them now?”
“But it really belongs to our school. We ordered it. Please.” Dao sounded more courageous than he felt.
Mr. Wang remained silent for a long time. Finally he said, “Come back after lunch. I must think about this.”
Lunch in the noodle shop was quiet and grim. Afterward Dao couldn’t even remember if it tasted good.
Back at the dance school, Dao found all the students assembled. Mr. Wang said he wanted Bing Dao to explain his problem to the whole school.
Dao looked at the sea of faces and gulped. He tried to speak, but only a creak came out. The faces smiled. He tried again. “Well, … uh … I, uh, came to ask to buy the lion head.”
The smiles disappeared. Bing Dao began to talk fast. “You see, my school ordered it special because I’m not strong enough to carry a hig bion lead … I mean a lig hion bed … I mean—”
Everybody started to laugh. Bing Dao didn’t think it was funny at all. He wanted to vanish into thin air, but he took a deep breath and went on. “My village is depending on me to dance with the lion head for the New Year celebration. I know that it’s my own fault that I’m in such a muddle, but …” He faltered to a stop. Then he saw his father nod and smile. Dao took new courage. “My school got the idea and my school ordered the head. I’m asking you to please help me by selling it to me.”
The room was very quiet. Finally Mr. Wang said, “Bing Dao, you speak the truth bravely.” There was an agonizing pause. The dance teacher turned to the students. “How many think that we should sell the lion head to Bing Dao?”
For an awful minute no hand was raised. Then one went up, and another, and another, until almost every hand could be seen.
“Well, I guess you have the answer, Bing Dao. The lion head is yours.”
“Oh, thank you, Mr. Wang. Thank you, students.”
On the way home, Father said, “I’m proud of you, Dao. You applied another wise saying—‘Truth spoken gently wins the argument.’”
“Thank you, Father. I learned a lot today. And from now on, I’m going to write things down so I won’t forget.”
“Good idea, Son. Then all you have to remember is to read the list.”
They both laughed.

The members were also encouraged to become spiritually self-reliant. Following the example of a group that started in St. Lucia where a group of sisters are meeting for prayer and scripture study at 5:00 am each morning from Monday to Saturday, the sisters in St. Vincent also began in earnest. They meet on Zoom with other members of the Church in the Caribbean Area at the same time. Despite the prevailing circumstances, the members are strong and without fear, and they continue to meet morning after morning.

While attending a sacrament meeting during the summer months, I was fortunate to hear messages from three students who were home from school for the summer. One of the talks especially interested me.
She had been working during the summer recess in a restaurant frequented by truck drivers. One driver who had a regular run stopped at the restaurant on the same day each week to eat. The regularity of the stop created an opportunity for short visits. He asked the young lady where she lived. She reported that she was home for the summer to earn money to return to school in the fall. His next question was, “Where do you attend school?” Her answer with pride: “BYU–Idaho.” He wanted to know more about the school, which led to a gospel discussion. Her first approach was to teach him about the Word of Wisdom. She was successful. She convinced him to give up smoking.
Then her shift was changed, and she no longer had the opportunity to serve him, so she wrote him a note and enclosed a Church missionary tract about the plan of salvation. After several days she received a note from the driver. It simply stated, “You’ve created a monster.” Thanks to this young woman, he had found information which caused him to think about the changes he must make in his life. I do not know the full outcome of this little encounter between a waitress and a truck driver, but clearly his life was affected.
She then went on to explain how easy it is to let others know about the beauties of the gospel. Opportunities are there every day in our normal pursuits of life to open our mouths to let people know of the gospel truths that will bless them here and now and into the eternities to come.

One day I watched an interview with Brother Tad R. Callister, who was then the Sunday School General President. As I took notes, I had an impression on how to heal my relationship with my son, John. I was impressed that we should read the entire Book of Mormon together prior to his baptism six months later.
This impression was so clear that I even knew which room we should read in and at what time we should read. I also felt a distinct impression that we should finish our reading on the grounds of the Meridian Idaho Temple.
As we took time to read one-on-one each night, our relationship sweetened. We had more patience for each other, we better understood each other’s perspectives, and we regularly felt the presence of the Holy Ghost.
The night before we finished the book, we read Moroni’s promise that if we ask God with a sincere heart, with real intent and faith in Christ, if the Book of Mormon is true, we will know the truth of it by the power of the Holy Ghost (see Moroni 10:4–5). We felt the confirmation that the Book of Mormon is true, that Joseph Smith was a prophet, and that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the kingdom of God upon the earth.
The next day we sat on a bench on the temple grounds. We looked up at the statue of angel Moroni and read again his final testimony. Since that day, John has mentioned on multiple occasions the time we read the Book of Mormon together at the temple. Now every time I attend the temple, I see the bench and reflect on the special moment John and I had when we completed our inspired goal.

I had learned of the Mormon church through a friend of mine, and when I was 13 years old I was baptized. One of the main reasons I was attracted to the Church was the love and concern I felt from the members of my ward.
I had become quite close to a family in my ward—the Fishers. I was their babysitter. They were my friends, and I grew to love them very much. I loved to babysit for them, and they accepted me for the person I was. I knew they cared about me, and I felt secure when I was with them.
To make a long story short, in the next few months I ran away from home twice. The Fishers went to Social Services and requested that I come live with them. I was surprised but thrilled! After several court trials, I was placed in their home as a foster child. I was 14 years old.
That was eight years ago. As I look back over the years, there are many memories. But perhaps the greatest memory I have is being legally adopted and going to the St. George Temple to be sealed to my parents. My whole family was present, grandparents and all, and it was a peaceful, beautiful, and glorious day.
My parents have worked very hard with me. They encouraged me to go back to school, and I graduated from Brigham Young University. It was a great day, and my parents helped me to make it possible.
There are so many other things my parents have done for me, I could never name them all. However, the most important thing they did was to take me into their home and to love me. My parents helped me to learn to love others. They taught me about the gospel. They answered my questions. They had faith. And they were and still are my examples. My parents gave me the opportunity to have a family and to experience the security of belonging.
When I first went to my foster home I was bitter and felt sorry for myself. I often asked myself, why me? It all seemed so unfair. Fortunately, I have since learned that the experiences I had during my first 14 years of life were meant to be. Those experiences have made me into the person I am today. Those experiences were to teach me. Yes, I had to learn to have compassion for others who may be hurting. I have promised myself to never forget how it hurts to be lonely and frightened.
There is no doubt in my mind that my parents were to be mine. My patriarchal blessing tells me so. We just all came together in a different way. I want to repay my parents for their love, help, and understanding, and I know I can do this by living a good life, helping others, and remaining faithful to the gospel. This is what they would want me to do. I know because it is what they have done in their lives.