Gospel Story Finder

At a recent stake conference, the stake president shared a story with me. He asked his son what was discussed at a recent Sunday evening fireside. The young man replied, “Raising the bar.” He then informed his father that he was weary of the theme because it was the subject of every recent class and meeting. My first thought was, “That’s great; the prophet’s message is being discussed, heard, and acted upon.” My second thought related to the young man’s feelings concerning repetitive reminders. Repetitive reminders can be an irritant when we are trying hard to do our best.
As a youth I would tune out my mother’s repetitive reminder: “David, remember who you are.” The reminder always brought some interesting comments from my friends. Irritation set in when my father repeatedly pointed out President George Albert Smith’s home as we traveled along 13th East in Salt Lake City and reminded me that a living prophet of God who loved me lived there. Today I am most grateful for those repetitive reminders.
The term “raising the bar” is often used in the world of sports to describe achieving higher levels of performance. The use of a sports metaphor may help describe why it is critical to respond to what President Hinckley asked us to do last conference when he said: “I hope that our young men, and our young women, will rise to the challenge [Elder Ballard] has set forth. We must raise the bar on the worthiness and qualifications of those who go into the world as ambassadors of the Lord Jesus Christ.”

I was really stressed about finals week at the end of the school year. I decided to fast and pray that I could prepare well and be successful in my finals. After the exams, I got my scores back and I had only missed one problem on each of my exams! I was super grateful for that.
This experience helped me feel like Jesus Christ cared about me and that He wanted me to do well in my life. He cares about what is important in my life, and it was important to me to do well in school. I felt like He was more connected to my life.
Fasting was hard for me when I first started, but it becomes increasingly easier the more I do it. I believe that if I fast, I will be able to receive the blessings that Heavenly Father has promised me for fasting.
Hannah J., 16, Minnesota, USA

“We asked the stake youth committee what they wanted to do,” explained Richard C. Humpherys, second counselor in the stake presidency. “They said, ’something to help someone else,’ and something to build our testimonies.’ Since they asked for it, we took them up on it.”
Inspired by a story in the New Era special issue on service (see March 1988, p. 46), the youth committee looked around for a community they could help. They settled on Granby for three reasons: it was nearby; a slumping economy had hit the area hard; and the mayor, town council, and chamber of commerce seemed genuinely interested in providing projects for the youth to work on.
There was an added benefit, too. The small LDS branch in Granby, with a total of five active families, had a youth program that would love some company. In fact, while the youth from Aurora were there, they could help paint the Granby chapel.
Great entertainment, right?
Buses left Aurora at 7:00 on a Thursday morning. By 10:30 A.M., 84 young people divided into eight teams were scurrying all over Granby. Since they were all wearing identical T-shirts, they were fairly conspicuous. And a local radio station advertising the LDS youth’s free car wash also let people know who they were and what they were doing.
“We went into a store to buy some pop,” said Andy Clapton, 18, who had been shoveling gravel all morning at the train depot. “The clerk said, ‘Are you the Mormon kids? You’re doing a great job.’”
“Lots of people have asked what we’re doing,” said Sandra Hilborne, 15, as she leveled out tree bark in a planter box on Main Street. “We tell them we’re helping others and having fun at the same time.”
And that, really, is what began to happen.
“I wasn’t very excited at first,” said Liza Zmolek, 14. “But then I saw people watching us. I felt like somebody was counting on me, so I started working hard, and it felt good.”
Angelica Velez, 15, wiped her forehead, then smiled. “When we first got to the cemetery,” she said, “you couldn’t even see the tombstones. Then we brought in lawnmowers and weed whackers and raked it up and carried out a lot of wood. Now it looks nice.”
Ginny Stafford, 14, spent the morning on her knees, pulling weeds till her fingers were stained green. She said out loud what a lot of people were feeling: “It’s dirty work, but when you’re done, you feel happy, not dirty.”
Besides sprucing up Main Street, washing cars, tidying the cemetery, spreading gravel at the train depot, and chopping weeds at a main intersection on the highway into town, the youth painted the city’s historic log church, landscaped its grounds, and polished the benches and the organ inside.
“I thought that was neat,” said Daphne Motto, 17. “It didn’t matter that it’s not an LDS church. It’s like we were saying, we’re all brothers and sisters and we need to help each other.”
And of course, that’s very much what the youth were saying over at the LDS chapel.
“It was kind of scary when two full buses drove up,” said Corey Trial, 13, one of four active LDS teens from Granby.
“I’ve lived here all my life,” said Mark Bickmore, 14, “I’d never seen that many kids before with the same religion as me.”
Soon Ray Beaty, 16, of Granby, was working side by side with Aurora youth he’d met only that morning. “We get lonely up here, and sometimes we think we’re all alone. But working together like this, I think we’ve formed some friendships that will last.”
And Vickie Adams, 13, the only Granby girl active in Young Women, said, “I’m not used to this many people. It helps me feel like there are other Mormons around.”
The Granby youth and the youth from Aurora did everything at the conference together, not only the service projects, but the other activities as well. They played volleyball together. They played football together. They even played soccer with an oversized ball.
Other activities included a luau with a floor show, a swimming party, and a dance. But the main activity was conversation, a sharing of ideals and fellowship.
“I found out the Church is a lot smaller here,” said Fred Tanquary, 17. “I mean, there are only four kids in the branch. But I think we all had the gospel in common, and they just became a part of us.”
Over the three-day period, the youth from Granby and the youth from Aurora grew comfortable discussing common goals—missionary work, reading and sharing the Book of Mormon, morality and standards, maintaining faith when the world’s full of doubt. That closeness was also reinforced at nightly devotionals, where leaders stressed themes such as “Little Decisions Made Now Have Big Consequences Later,” “Gospel Tips on How to Be Happy,” and “Your Most Important Possession is Your Testimony.”
But of course, as it always is, the final meeting of the conference was the highlight. In a sunlit room at the YMCA of the Rockies, the LDS youth met Granby’s mayor, Jerry Roberts. They presented him with framed historical photos of Granby, and with a Book of Mormon, which they hope he will read. They listened while he expressed the community’s gratitude.
Then the youth and their leaders spent an hour or two talking to each other, speaking from the heart.
One young man who has been struggling to keep the commandments told the rest of the group they had helped him.
“I’ve known for a long time that I need to change some things,” he said. “And being here has helped me see how happy you can be just doing what’s right. I’m making a change. I’m starting over.”
Darla Evans, 17, said she thought it was great to do something at a youth conference besides entertain yourself. “Even the pioneer trek we went on last year—it was challenging, but it was still just for us. This has all been for other people.”
Another young man, a priest, said that he’d only been active in the Church for a year. “This is the only youth conference I’ve ever been to,” he said. “But I’ve really felt the Spirit here.”
Others, like Holly Mattison, 16, talked about living the gospel in a high school where, as a Latter-day Saint, she’s outnumbered. “It’s not always easy,” she said. “There are lots of challenges.” But she said a talk at one of the devotionals reminded her that the Savior loves her, that he knows her by name and will help her to be strong.
Of course, as they talked, the youth also offered an evaluation. “If my mom had asked me to do the same thing in my backyard, I know I wouldn’t have enjoyed it,” said Adriana Velez, 17. “In fact, before we left, I told one of my friends what we were doing, and she said, ‘My parents would never make me do that!’”
Then the president of the Granby Branch, Gary M. Cooper, spoke.
“The branch was formed 15 years ago,” he said, “and I can honestly say that this is the neatest thing that’s ever happened to us. We appreciate that you took the time to come up here and bring us into the limelight in our community. It’s something we’ve wanted to do for a long time. You did a lot of work and you cleaned up the community, and that’s important. But what I really hope is that because of your example, someone will accept the gospel. That would be the greatest service of all.”
The Aurora Colorado Stake hasn’t been around that long. It was formed when another stake divided, several months before the Aurora youth went to Granby. Before the stake was divided, the planned youth conference was a river trip. When plans for three days of hard labor in Granby were announced, some of the youth thought they were losing out.
But talk to the youth now, and they’ll rattle on and on about their “service conference.”
You know—the time when they went to Granby, where they learned that work can be a lot of fun.

I hated school. There was too much homework. It was too hard, and my grades were bad. I thought dropping out was the best thing to do, so I did.
With no high school diploma or GED, I couldn’t get a job. I couldn’t get into the armed forces. I was really having a hard time.
I decided to get my GED, and it took me seven years. Now I know that dropping out was a stupid idea.
Finish school. You’ll be glad you did.
Blake Combe, 25Orofino, Idaho

“Mrs. Ramirez, who is that?” Sydney asked, pointing to a girl sitting at a desk. She had never seen this girl in their class.
Mrs. Ramirez smiled. “That’s our new student, Yulia. Yulia just moved here from Ukraine. We’re excited she’s here.”
Sydney looked at Yulia. She looked scared. Sydney knew she would be afraid if she moved to a new country. That would be hard!
Sydney went and sat next to Yulia. Smiling, she said, “Hi. My name is Sydney.”
Yulia timidly smiled back but didn’t say anything. Sydney tried to talk to her, but Yulia just shook her head.
“She doesn’t speak English,” Sydney thought. “She needs help!”
Throughout the day Sydney was Yulia’s buddy. She showed Yulia around the school and helped her with classwork.
At lunch, Sydney asked Yulia, “Do you want to play with me?” She pointed to the playground to help Yulia understand. Yulia smiled and nodded. They played together for all of lunch recess.
Sydney began teaching Yulia lots of English words. She wanted to help Yulia feel more comfortable talking to people. Sometimes it was hard to understand each other, but the two girls soon became good friends.
In class a few weeks later, the girls were drawing a picture together. Sydney drew flowers and insects while Yulia drew grass and trees.
“We made a beautiful garden!” Sydney said when they finished.
Yulia smiled. “Yes, it is pretty. I like to draw.”
Mrs. Ramirez came over to their desks. “What a beautiful picture! I’m glad you two are working together.” She took their drawing and taped it on the class bulletin board. The girls smiled proudly.
One day when Sydney got home from school, her mom said, “Mrs. Ramirez called. She wanted to let you know that Yulia is in the hospital. She is having surgery on her heart tomorrow. She’ll be in the hospital for a while to recover.”
Sydney thought about Yulia the next day during school. She looked at their drawing on the bulletin board. That gave her an idea.
After school, Sydney told her mom, “I want to take Yulia something to cheer her up after her surgery. She liked drawing in class. Maybe we can take her some art supplies.”
“That’s a great idea!” Mom said.
Sydney and her mom bought a drawing pad and some bright crayons. Sydney couldn’t wait to give them to Yulia. A few days later, Sydney and Mom went to the hospital. They found Yulia’s room and knocked on the door.
Yulia’s mom opened it and smiled. “Please come in. Yulia is resting.”
Yulia turned as they entered the room. Her face was pale, and she looked tired. “Hi, Sydney.”
Sydney pulled out the drawing pad and crayons. She shyly set them on the bed next to Yulia. “I thought these might help you feel better.”
Yulia’s eyes lit up. She reached for the crayons. “Thank you! I really like to draw. Can we draw right now?”
“Sure!”
Sydney pulled a chair over to the side of the bed. The two girls laughed and talked together while they colored. Sydney was glad they had come to visit Yulia. When she and her mom left the hospital, Sydney had a warm feeling in her heart. She was glad she had helped make her friend happy.

David’s little sister, Susan, spun around the kitchen on the tips of her toes. “I’m going to marry the prince. The most handsome prince in all the kingdom.”
David shook his head in disgust. Susan pretended all the time. Lately, though, her pretending was worse than ever. So when she won the lead part in the third grade play, he was surprised. Susan had a learning disability; most of the time she read words and letters backward.
Now, every night, while he tried to work on his model airplane, she danced around him, sang around him, and practiced the same speaking part over and over.
“Be quiet,” David said. “Gluing this plane together is hard. I can’t do it if someone is bugging me.”
Susan stopped dancing. “You need to show some respect to the future princess.”
“Respect?” David questioned.
“Yeah. You know—like honoring me.”
A crooked grin crossed his face. “I respect peace and quiet!”
Susan shrugged and danced out of the room. “Suit yourself,” she called.
With a sigh of relief, David began to glue the landing gear onto his plane. “This is going to be my best model yet,” he told himself, dabbing a drop of glue on the wheel axle.
Mom came into the kitchen. “You need to clear the table, David. It’s time to eat.”
“I can’t clear the table now. I have to hold this in place until it dries.”
“David,” Mom said with her hands on her hips, “you need to show me a little more respect. Talking to me like that when I’ve asked you to do something is not showing respect.”
“Sorry.” As David gathered his airplane parts together, he wondered why everyone was talking about respect tonight. Why didn’t anybody respect him and let him finish building his airplane in peace?
The next morning, Mom asked him to wait after school and walk Susan home from play practice. His stomach felt as if he were on one of those up-and-down rides at the amusement park. He didn’t want to wait around after school for Susan. He wanted to get home and work on his airplane.
When the last bell rang for the day, David slowly walked to the school auditorium and slid into one of the backseats. He watched the third graders working on their play. Some of them were good and knew their parts. Others made a lot of mistakes—Susan was one of those. David felt bad for her.
As Susan began to do her part for the fourth time, a teacher slid into one of the seats next to David. “Oh, dear,” the teacher said, as she clasped her hands together and leaned forward. “She would make a perfect princess if only she could remember her lines.”
David slipped down farther in his seat. It hurt to hear someone talking about his little sister. Although her reading problems bothered him, he didn’t want to hear anyone talk negatively about her problem, not even a teacher.
After practice, David headed out of the school fast. Susan ran and skipped all the way to keep up with him. When they were almost home, Susan yanked on his arm. “Why are you going so fast?”
“I want to work on my plane.”
“Did you like my performance as a princess?”
“I … well … it … it needs work.”
Susan kicked at a dandelion in the grass. “I know. It’s just that no one has time to help me. Mom and Dad are busy helping Grandma and Grandpa since they’ve been sick. I don’t want to bother them. I read it over and over, but it just doesn’t come out the way the teacher says it should. Will you help me?”
“I can’t. I have to get my plane done. I want to enter it in the Model Club contest. I have some great ideas on how to paint it.”
Susan walked up the sidewalk to the house. “That’s OK. I’ll just try harder.”
Later that night, as David read the directions for his model plane, he felt as if he had swallowed a huge ball of cotton. The soggy lump was sinking slowly to his stomach and getting stuck along the way. He read the directions again. They were hard for him to understand.
Looking up, he saw Susan sitting at the couch trying to read her part. Her hands were clenched into fists, and her forehead was wrinkled like a raisin. He knew how hard Susan had to work at everything, and he respected her for that. He put his plane down.
Every day that week after school, he helped Susan learn her lines. Sometimes he wanted to quit and work on his plane, but he didn’t.
One week later, he sat next to Mom and Dad in the dark auditorium and watched Susan sing, dance, and say her lines perfectly. He thought she had to be the best princess—and the hardest-working one the third grade ever had!
When the play was over, David hurried to find her. She was still dressed in her princess outfit and was surrounded by the rest of the children in the play. David went up to her and handed her a rose. “You’re the best princess of all,” David said loudly. He wanted everyone to hear him. After all, she was his sister and he respected her.

I can remember when my older brother had just such a decision to make. He was majoring in art at a university and showing lots of promise. He was just beginning to feel a breakthrough in the development of his talent when the bishop asked him to set it aside and go on a mission. He struggled with the decision for days. Two years away from pursuing the skills he had worked so hard to develop would set him back who knows how much. And he most certainly would have to give up the scholarship he needed to continue school.

As a family and individually, we prayed he would make the right decision. He did. The call was to serve in Sweden, and though he was pleased to be able to serve in the land of his parents’ birth, I’m sure he wondered, even as he entered the mission home, what this would mean to his skill as an artist. He found it strange that he should be the only Swedish missionary in the mission home. (These were the days before the Mission Training Center in Provo.) He traveled to Sweden alone. At the same time his mission president was concerned that he had a new elder coming and had no companion for him. Why hadn’t they sent two? As he picked up my brother at the airport and began the journey by car to the mission home, the discussion turned to the big zone conference being planned. The mission president enthusiastically described how many nonmembers would be touched by the many activities and large impressive illustrations of the Book of Mormon they intended to display, if they could only find someone who could … Suddenly he looked at his new elder with a strange expression. “Elder Rosine, do you have any artistic ability by any chance?” When my brother revealed his background and the struggle it had been for him to cut off his development, the president got tears in his eyes and said simply, “I understand it all now. You are an answer to our prayers.”

Elder Rosine spent the first few months of his mission doing large oil paintings of scenes from the Book of Mormon. His letters home glowed with enthusiasm for the work he was doing, and he humbly admitted that the beautiful paintings he was producing were not his but the Lord’s, for he had never before painted so well.

Julius Caesar himself would have been proud of the costume.
A brass breastplate, red cape, centurion’s helmet, and pleated warrior’s toga made President A. Brent Brockbank, second counselor in the San Jose California Stake presidency, look like one of Rome’s conquering legionnaires. President Brockbank was participating in a weekend of games and service projects planned by the youth of the stake. The activities included a multi-stake dance and a fireside.
His outfit was in complete harmony with the final Saturday afternoon event—a chariot race pitting homemade vehicles from each ward in the stake against each other.
The stake’s teenagers, divided into six groups by wards, had labored on service projects since early Saturday morning. No wonder they were happy now to relish a well-earned lunch (organized by the Laurels), served from food-laden tables in the Del Mar High School stadium. Let the second counselor steal the spotlight—momentarily.
President Brockbank’s biceps bulged under the weight of a gold-painted plaster-of-paris statue of a charioteer cracking his whip over the heads of six galloping stallions. He explained to the crowd that the Ben Hur Memorial Traveling Award was destined for the ward whose team was fastest in a 440-yard dash around the track. One person was to ride in the chariot, six would pull. Turning first to those still heaping their plates with food, then to those in the stands basking in the west coast sunshine, President Brockbank raised the trophy in the air.
“Those who are about to die, we salute you!” he shouted to rivals in another ward, making fun of ancient Coliseum rites. Stake members, young and old alike, cheered the “emperor” on. The tone for the afternoon—a mood of happy excitement—was set.

When Mormon missionaries were proselyting in Mississippi in 1844, their message was not widely received. However, one 13-year-old slave boy, Samuel Chambers, showed unusual interest in the elders’ street meeting discussions, and a nighttime baptism and confirmation soon followed. Born on May 21, 1831, in Pickens County, Alabama, Samuel grew up in Noxubee County, Mississippi, as an orphan. Slave traders took away his mother, Hester Gillespie, while Samuel was a small boy.

Thus he embraced the LDS faith despite “not having kind parents” to encourage him. Nevertheless, as he later told the deacons quorum, “the spirit of God remained with me.” He had “known the gospel to be true ever since I was confirmed,” and after his conversion he “greatly longed” to gather with the Saints, but being a slave he “could never see how it would be brought about.” Samuel was cut off from any contact with the Church but “tho’ lacking age & experience yet God kept the seeds of life alive in me.” During these years in bondage he married. But shortly after the birth of his son Peter his first wife either died or was sold into Texas (the records disagree). Then on May 4, 1858, he married Amanda Leggroan, a slave who was born to Green and Hattie Leggroan in Noxumbra County, Mississippi, on January 1, 1844.

When the Civil War brought the collapse of the Confederacy, Samuel became a freedman. He turned to shoemaking and then to sharecropping in order to support his family. It had been 21 years since his baptism. “I then commenced to save means to gather (to Utah),” he recalled, and “this took me four years.” This desire to join the Saints is most remarkable in Samuel’s case because he had “never heard another word of the gospel” since his baptism.

Finally in 1870 the 38-year-old freedman left Mississippi with 26-year-old Amanda and teenaged Peter. Evidently their means of transportation for part of the journey was a simple, ox-drawn wagon. Accompanying them was the family of Amanda’s brother, Edward Leggroan. He and his wife were in their mid-20’s and brought with them three children under six years of age. Like others who had migrated to Zion, this small group came with high hopes. At the same time the fact that they were black gave them cause to worry about what the future might hold for them in the strange new land. But one thing was certain with Samuel: “I did not come to Utah to know the truth of the gospel, but I received it away back where the gospel found me.” They arrived in Salt Lake City on April 27, 1870.

My family’s faith began years ago when my father was 10. When the U.S. Army, under General Douglas McArthur, left the Philippines because of Japanese advancement, they set up a training/recreational base outside Brisbane, Australia. My grandparents were dairy farmers on the Brisbane River and their farm became the base for the encampment of the American soldiers.
One day, while my father and his sister were milking the cows, a soldier, Danny Roberts, offered to give them a hand. He was lonely and his thoughts were of his home on a farm in America. Danny stayed for dinner, and when asked about his religion, he told the story of the First Vision.
With great interest, my family discussed what they had been taught, and asked the question of most investigators: “Could a young boy of 14 really see God and Jesus Christ in our day?” The feeling surrounding the conversation caused great contemplation. Eventually they determined that if Moses and Abraham in years gone by could see Jesus, then why not a prophet in our day as well.
A flicker of faith began in the Maurer family. Did they know for sure that this was true? No. Did they receive a personal visitation from Heavenly Father? No. What prompted them to take the next step? It was the Spirit of God impressing on their minds that this felt right, and a hope that this, maybe, was true.
Faith brings a power and a desire, and it motivates us to action. So strong was the feeling of faith that they wanted to find out more. The nearest Church meetinghouse was over two hours away, but they attended the next Sunday and loved the Spirit they felt there. They loved the people who were so genuine and friendly.
There were no missionaries because of the war, but the leaders and members taught and helped strengthen their faith in Jesus Christ. The family added to their faith and built a stronger understanding of the plan of salvation. Through sacrifice, their faith in Jesus Christ gave them a power they had not experienced in their life to that point.
I have often reflected on that unique experience that my father, his two sisters, Tess and Julie, and their parents had. They sacrificed, endured hardship, and changed their lifestyle—all because they felt that the Lord led this Church, which provides the greatest chance for eternal salvation and lasting happiness. There is a power that comes when faith is exercised.

Elder Steven Hanks and Sister Jean Hanks are serving in Liberia and are living in Kakata, a village outside of Monrovia. They recently had the joyous opportunity and privilege of helping two young men in their mid-20’s, John Gbakoya and Baby Ya, receive new wheelchairs.
Elder and Sister Hanks left their apartment one morning at seven and drove to Bong Mine, an old mining town 30 miles northwest of Kakata, out into the bush, to pick up the two men with medical conditions requiring wheelchairs. Their current chairs were running on the rims and falling apart.
The Teerlink family, in collaboration with LDS Charities, had recently shipped 350 new wheelchairs to JFK hospital in Monrovia. It was a 3-hour drive through country roads and snarled African city traffic jams to the hospital where John and Baby were measured and fitted with brand new chairs.
The Hanks disassembled the chairs, loaded them and the men back in their truck, drove back to Bong Mine and then reassembled the chairs. John’s wheelchair took a little work, but they got it done, thanks to some bicycle-repair experience.
John and Baby Ya were overjoyed and so thankful. Their community gathered to rejoice with them. Everyone in town knows them and everyone was thrilled they were given these beautiful new wheelchairs.
It was a beautiful, sweet day. Special thanks to LDS Charities, the Teerlink family for their generosity, and to the Hanks for serving in Liberia and being just the right people to bless these young men and assemble their chairs.

“Preparing for the future can be challenging and exciting,” said Becky Alice Johnson, shortly before her marriage to Stephen F. Petersen last spring. “Decide what skills you would like to become proficient in, and then determine the best route to gain that proficiency. Also learn to budget and save your money, setting goals to use it wisely. All those things will be of great help to you when you do become married, go away to college, on a mission, or to work. Remember, you are preparing for your future, not just waiting to get married.”

An experienced goal-setter and achiever, Becky is well-qualified to give advice. Before her wedding she was able to share her ideas, and show the results of her labors at a trousseau luncheon given by her visiting teachers and the wife of one of the members of the bishopric.

All the Young Women in Becky’s ward, as well as many other friends, were invited to attend the open house luncheon held at Sister Catherine Hogan’s home. As the guests arrived, windblown and flushed from the chill winter weather, Becky greeted them with punch and a variety of finger sandwiches. Downstairs were several display tables, accompanied by note cards that contained appropriate scriptures, thoughts, and notes of explanation.

The items in her trousseau reflected careful planning and selection as well as her love for her family and desire to keep her heritage alive. On one display was draped a blanket made from the wool of her grandfather’s sheep; on another chair was a baby afghan crocheted by her 90-year-old uncle. Becky is an accomplished seamstress, does embroidery work, and also crochets. “Learning to crochet, although it is a simple thing, has been a blessing in my life,” she said. “My mother died in an automobile accident a few years ago, and at the time she was working on an afghan for me. It was in the car with her, and with the help of a friend I was able to finish it.”

Another homemaking art that was apparent was Becky’s ability to save and use money wisely.

Beginning in her early teens she began working at such part-time jobs as teaching piano lessons, tutoring second graders in reading, and selling chicken at a drive-in restaurant. Through her savings she was able to purchase a sewing machine, cookware set, typewriter, silverware service for eight, and a set of fine dishes.

“I never bought anything that wasn’t on sale and that I wasn’t sure I really wanted. I was in no hurry, so I could take my time and find the best buy. When I became engaged, I realized that if I had waited to buy these things until I was ready to set up housekeeping, I would probably have had to pay whatever price was asked.”

Becky has also budgeted her tuition at the University of Utah and a trip to Europe into her savings. While in Florence, Italy, she purchased silk scarves which a friend helped her make into a quilt top. The scarves have “Firenze” (which means Florence in Italian) printed on them, so Becky calls it her “Florence quilt.” Because her mother’s name was Florence, this quilt is even more special to Becky and was shown at the luncheon next to other quilts Becky has helped make.

Another display contained her piano books, yearbooks, seminary and high school graduation certificates, hand-painted figurines, and scrapbooks—all mementos of activities and hobbies that have been meaningful in her life. Looking at them, and then observing the quilts hanging further down, the home-canned fruits and vegetables at the end of the room (which she likes to give as wedding gifts), and the sewing machine off to the side, it was apparent that Becky had prepared well for her future. And preparing well meant planning well. Some of the goals Becky set and achieved were (1) to learn to play the piano well, (2) to graduate from seminary, (3) to own a sewing machine and learn to sew most of her own clothing, (4) to have a nice set of dishes on which to serve her friends and later her family, and (5) to continue her education at the University of Utah. Perhaps one of the most valuable challenges she accepted was to enjoy the time of preparing, using as her motto something taught to her by her mother: “I want to grow, learn, and develop that I may give so much more.”

At the solemn assembly during general conference when President Hinckley was sustained as the prophet by the Church membership, all the grandchildren stood at the appropriate times and raised their hands to sustain the new prophet.

“It was an amazing experience,” says Ada Hinckley, 16, “to raise your hand to the square and sustain the prophet, the President of the Church, who is also your grandpa. When they sing, ‘We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet,’ you are just kind of taken aback because they are singing about your grandfather.”

But Ada found that the very thing that helped a lot of young women in the Church also helped her gain a testimony of the prophet. She attended the general Young Women meeting before April conference where the theme was gaining a testimony of the prophet. “It helped me a lot to gain a testimony that he is a prophet and that he leads the Church. I know he does.”

When I became too sick to continue my mission, I knew that God wanted me to go home, but that was the exact opposite of what I wanted. I was also distressed by the sudden loss of my health, which later proved to be the beginning of a chronic, disabling condition.
While adapting to my illness, I felt I had lost my purpose. I needed so much help and felt I had nothing to offer. But I knew I needed to continue exercising my faith, so I kept studying, praying, and trying to follow the Spirit. While studying the New Testament one day, I came upon a painting by James Tissot entitled Jesus Commands the Apostles to Rest. This depiction of Mark 6:30–31 immediately soothed me. As I saw Christ watching over His resting servants, I felt how much He loved them. And me.
Eventually, I learned that the expectations I had for myself were not the same expectations that God had for me. In some ways, His were more personally challenging, but they were much more attuned to my needs. I’m so grateful for the way He teaches me to more fully accept His help and His perfect love. His faith in me gives me the hope I need to keep going.
Sabrina Maxwell, Utah, USA

Nicole Miller used her head and her hands to help a lost deaf girl find her way home. When Nicole spent the night at her friend Amy Moats’s house, Amy taught her some sign language. Nicole caught on to the alphabet quickly. She had no idea she would need to use this new skill very soon. Two days later, on her way home from school, she and another friend found a little girl crying on the corner.
They tried to talk to her, but she didn’t answer and kept pointing at her ears. Nicole realized the girl must be deaf, and she used her hands to ask the girl’s name and where she lived.
Through phone calls and more sign language, Nicole helped her new friend find her way home. School had been let out early on that day, and the little girl tried to walk home instead of waiting for her mother to pick her up as usual.
Nicole is a Beehive in the Wenatchee Second Ward, and Amy is a Beehive in the Leavenworth Branch, both of the Wenatchee Washington Stake.

“A parade up and down the blocks to see what was beneath each tree was an annual Christmas tradition for the children in our neighborhood. How parents permitted such a desecration of the day, such a trial-by-comparison trauma, I can’t understand. But year after year the parade persisted.
“The gifts beneath the trees in the homes of my friends were as different as the income and situation, as the taste and concern for the celebration would allow. And in the difference there was always pain for somebody.
“There was a friend in that pitiful parade whose father gave her a pair of shoes every year. Period. Shoes. Every year he would choose them himself without her counsel, and every year they’d be sturdy enough to last forever, ugly enough to ruin a girl’s chances at life. She hated them of course, and we hated him for what it did to her. Christmas after Christmas. Each year I told her they were okay, cute, neat, or great (whatever was the appropriate vernacular of that year), hoping against hope it would help.
“Then there was a girl who didn’t even get a gift as grand as shoes. Except for maybe an apron her aunt made, she seldom received anything at all. As we neared her house, she’d begin talking grandly about how she had all her gifts put away already. There was no point in even going to her house, she’d insist. But everybody else persisted just the same.
“‘Let’s go to your house last,’ I’d suggest, hoping we’d all have to go home by then. And sometimes it worked.
“I loved this friend with a protective passion and gave her the best gift on my list. And each year I told her that all I wanted was a bottle of her mom’s applesauce. And that’s what she gave me, ribbon tied.
“I think of that each canning season now, wondering why my own applesauce never tastes like the memory.”

I once asked a man in a fireside group what he would like to do more than anything else if he could just do whatever he wanted. His face lit up, he sat on the edge of his chair, his hands came to life, and he told me that he’d just love to have a whole room full of power tools and bring all the kids in the neighborhood in to help them build birdhouses, playhouses, chicken coops, or anything in the whole world they wanted to build. He loved kids; he loved tools; he loved building things; his whole face was aglow with it. I asked him what he was studying at school; the light went out, and he told me he was studying to be a civil engineer. Why? Because his father was one, it paid good money, and so on. I knew he had the capability of being a good civil engineer, but I asked him, “Have you ever thought about teaching shop instead and spending all day working with power tools and teaching kids how to build things?” He just about fell off his chair. His mouth hung open. His eyes lit up again. It had simply never occurred to him to take stock of what he really liked to do, of what really mattered to him in choosing a career. He had never stopped to think that his wonderful love for young people might be there for that kind of a purpose. He had decided the biggest part of the rest of his life with his eyes closed.

When I was a little boy, I had a pet dog called Bunyip. He was my best friend. We were inseparable. But one day Bunyip was bitten by a snake and died. I was shattered, and there was nothing my parents could do to console me. So my father went into one of the fields and painted a huge smiling face on a large granite boulder. He called it the Happy Rock. After that, whenever I felt sad, I would go to the Happy Rock, and my sorrows seemed to magically vanish.

Have you memorized your monthly New Era? Kenneth Higbee did, in just a few hours.

Dr. Higbee, a psychologist at BYU, gives firesides in the Provo area explaining the “link system” of memory training.

With the “link system” a person associates easily remembered items together with mental pictures. For example, a shopping list of milk, bananas, and a can opener could easily be remembered by forming a mental picture of a banana opening a carton of milk. Before one such demonstration the youth of the Provo Utah Sharon East Stake were puzzled when asked to bring copies of the June New Era to a stake fireside.

After showing how the link system can be used to memorize lists rapidly and accurately, Dr. Higbee asked the young people to open their magazines and ask him any question about the contents. Although he couldn’t repeat the stories and articles word for word, he knew all the titles, authors, subjects, and even the page numbers of the articles.

After the New Era demonstration, the young people were asked to try and memorize a list of 20 words. Only three could do it. But after practicing the link system, over 80 percent of the group could memorize the complete 20-word list.

With a little practice you might be able to memorize the New Era too. And when you’ve got it down, pass the magazine on to a friend who “forgot” to subscribe. Or better still, subscribe for that friend!

My mother was also a Relief Society teacher, and when I was in the fifth grade, she taught lessons about the United States Constitution. Mother made a chart that she took to Relief Society every time she taught. It explained the different parts of the Constitution and what it meant. I found the chart interesting and asked her all kinds of questions. In school that year, we were learning about United States history, and I asked my teacher if I could bring the chart to school and explain to the class how a bill became a law. Learning about history fascinated me. I began reading Mother’s books about government and history. Her commitment to fulfilling her Church calling blessed me in many ways. Later, when I went to college, I decided to major in history. Certainly that decision was at least partly influenced by these experiences.