Gospel Story Finder

Member Missionary Hunk was assigned to coordinate the open house for the public at the newly completed temple. He planned on being stationed in the celestial room, where he would quietly nod acknowledgments to community dignitaries. Afterwards there would be cookies and punch with guest speakers at the stake center to honor him. Honors to the Hunk.
“Dexter, you’ll be serving here. You’ll help put booties on the shoes of the visitors before they enter the temple for the tour,” the tour leader said.
Filled with disappointment, Dexter sat on the ground and assisted visitors with shoe coverings. No honor in this he thought. In fact it was uncomfortable and embarrassing. But there was something familiar about it. What was it?
He looked up at the temple spires and remembered the words carved on the side: “Holiness to the Lord.”
Holiness to the Lord. Again there was that nagging feeling of familiarity.
Suddenly, a scene came to his mind of a painting that hung at home. He who was greatest was washing the feet of the disciples.
Across the walkway of the temple two visitors were conversing.
“Say, who’s that kid with the glasses, the one who is putting on foot coverings. Is he someone special?”
“No, that’s just Dexter. He’s a nice, average kid.”
“But look at the way he’s treating visitors. It’s as though each person he helps is the most important person he’ll meet.”

In Springs, east of Johannesburg in South Africa, four large local malls agreed to house Light the World giving boxes to receive donations for specially identified nonprofit organisations needing support.

Members of the Church donated their time manning the stalls at the malls and received secondhand clothing, toiletries, stationery and cleaning products for the homes in need. Then, volunteers gathered at the centres to donate the goods. One of the beneficiaries was Vita Nova Centre, a centre that caters for persons with cerebral palsy, Down syndrome, autism and the physically and mentally challenged.
Another one of the stake’s service projects was St. Francis Care Centre, a hospice and palliative care for persons suffering from life-threatening and life-limiting conditions. Members participated in some much-needed garden work at the centre, before returning for a play date.
Jasmine Westpfahl (11) spent four weeks making 20 beanies for orphaned babies from scraps of wool. She presented the beanies to the St. Francis Children’s Home along with the other clothing donations that were collected from the community.
Members of the church in Ladysmith, South Africa donated almost 200 handmade curtains to the Môrester Children’s Home.
Môrester Children’s Home cares for children that were removed from their families by a court order because of unsafe and unhealthy circumstances in their homes. The home houses 157 children in 11 houses in Ladysmith and surrounding areas.
“During our visit to the care centre we found the curtains to be old and washed out and often two different curtains hung at the same window. We felt that curtains are associated with light, and this would fit in well with our campaign,” Sister Susan De Klerk, the communications director in Ladysmith District, said.
Hours of sewing the curtains, and more hours of altering the curtains to Môrester’s specifications yielded 198 curtains.
The group further donated a volleyball net and two volleyballs as well as boxes of biscuits.
With tears in her eyes, Nobambo Nzinya, a social worker at the Môrester Children’s Home expressed her gratitude for the efforts of the volunteers.
“The children kept asking when the centre is going to buy them cookies for Christmas. And I honestly didn’t know what to tell them as I knew that there was no funds available to buy cookies for Christmas,” Nobambo Nzinya said.
“We as the centre are so grateful. Your service proves that you work in collaboration with the Holy Spirit.”
Members and unit leaders in Cape Town organized efforts to collect and donate 200 comfort packs for children at MOSAIC, a community-based nonprofit organisation for abused women and children that provides support services, access to justice and training for abuse survivors.
While 200 comfort packs consisting of new clothes, underwear, face cloths, toys, toiletries, juice, two-minute noodles and biscuits may not prevent gender-based violence, they will certainly improve the lives of the affected victims.
“There were so many members from our region who were involved in this project. From unit leaders collecting and receiving items to more leaders delivering it to the event,” said Denise Van Der Merwe, the communications director of Cape Town Stake said.
“Volunteers put together donations with care, while congregational Church leaders encouraged their members to participate any way they could. There was so much love and service given to this project that it can’t be fully expressed,” she continued.
Two of South Africa’s biggest retail outlets collaborated with the Church in donating and giving the Church items at a discounted price towards the abused victims.
The executive director of MOSAIC, Tarisai Mchuchu-MacMillan, poured out her thanks to the Cape Town Stake for the service.
“I am so grateful to the Cape Town Stake for selecting MOSAIC. During this Christmas season the #LightTheWorld initiative has lightened the burdens of so many children who access our services at the Thuthuzela care centres by generously donating comfort packs,” said Mchuchu-MacMillan.
Across the Indian Ocean, volunteers from the Church in Mauritius gathered to paint an apartment that houses six orphaned children at the S.O.S Children’s Village.
The shelter for the orphans in Mauritius advocates for childhood development and supports orphaned children by giving them access to a home, safety, education and health care.
The director of S.O.S Children’s Village, Christiano Arlando expressed his gratitude for the members’ efforts. “I felt the members’ willingness to help during their service of painting one of the children’s apartments,” Arlando said.
Dressed in red Light the World t-shirts, volunteers took to the streets of South Beach and the Durban harbour to clean.
This clean-up was in collaboration with the local government of Ethekwini and Gagasi FM, a local radio station in KwaZulu-Natal.
The cleaning campaign was part of the city’s ongoing efforts ofto keep the streets of Ethekwini clean, while creating an awareness on the proper disposal of waste.
With the cleaning spots identified, and the pickup truck arranged, members of the Church, Ethekwini Municipality and Gagasi FM with brooms on the one hand and refuse bags in the other, swept through the streets of South Beach and Durban harbour.
Tons of clothing items, plastics, polystyrene food packaging, and beverage bottles were collected.
After two industrious weeks, members of the Bulawayo and Nkulumane Zimbabwe stakes completed two service projects at two centres—the Ramstein Salvation Army Home of the Aged and Qinisani Daycare Orphanage.
The time period of the service projects was packed with clearing of the yard, cleaning of the centres and construction of a rabbit cage. Donations of four rabbits were made to the two centres.
President Mzingaye Ndlovu, a leader for the Church in Buluwayo, addressed the attendees at the handover, a joyful event where members of the Church sang Christmas carols for the elderly.
“Continue to follow the example of Jesus Christ and also light the world here at Ramstein Salvation Army Home of the Aged. Our Lord Jesus Christ, went about in a ministry that extended over a period of three years. [During that period of three years] nothing was about Him. He sought to lift others,” Ndlovu said.
In keeping true to the spirit of Christmas, Elder and Sister Miller, serving as missionaries in the George-Knysna area on the western coast of South Africa, participated in a neighbourhood Christmas house lighting tradition.
Houses along one suburban street place Christmas lights outside their homes in a lighting spectacle that brings in visitors from all over the town. “We are the first house on the block to present a completely Christian nativity depiction in our yard which has been seen by many hundreds of people,” the Millers said.
In another service project titled “Light the world by helping one person help another”, missionaries identified an area in the George metropolitan area that needed upliftment.
“We identified a local neighbourhood park that was in bad need of upgrading, interviewed patrons of the park and a neighbourhood volunteer who helped clean the park,” Elder Miller said.
“We then kept track of what facilities were being used and what was in need of repair. We contacted and met with local government officials and presented a comprehensive plan to them and demonstrated our willingness as a Church to help fund the initial upgrade needs to get the project rolling. They approved our initial proposal and we ordered some facility upgrades.” the Millers said.

I saw that same happiness in the faces of people who helped for the Lord in Idaho years ago. The Teton Dam burst on Saturday, June 5, 1976. Eleven people were killed. Thousands had to leave their homes in a few hours. Some homes were washed away. And hundreds of dwellings could be made habitable only through effort and means far beyond that of the owners.
One couple returned to Rexburg from a vacation just after the flood. They didn’t go to see their own house. Instead, they found their bishop to ask where they could help. He directed them to a family in need.
After a few days they went to check on their home. It was gone, swept away in the flood. They simply walked back to the bishop and asked, “Now what would you like us to do?”
Wherever you live, you have seen that miracle of sympathy turned to unselfish action. It may not have been in the wake of a great natural disaster. I have seen it in a priesthood quorum where a brother rises to describe the needs of a man or a woman who seeks an opportunity to work to support himself or herself and his or her family. I could feel sympathy in the room, but some suggested names of people who might employ the person who needed work.
What happened in that priesthood quorum and what happened in the flooded houses in Idaho is a manifestation of the Lord’s way to help those in great need become self-reliant. We feel compassion, and we know how to act in the Lord’s way to help.

Danny Price sat on a stump in the woods behind his house, chewing his fingernails. In two days school would start, and he still didn’t know anyone in Sutton. Who was he kidding? He didn’t know anyone in the whole state of Illinois except his parents, and they didn’t count.
“Eeeeeya!”
“Wha—?” Danny sprang off the stump and faced his attacker. Before him stood the skinniest girl he’d ever seen. Her thick black hair was braided down her back, and Ping-Pong balls taped to wires stuck out of a headband in front. Her face was painted with red and green polka dots, and she held a flashlight in her hand like a laser rod. Beside her stood a huge dog.
“Did I scare you?” She looked hopeful.
“Well, maybe a little.”
She looked so pleased that Danny almost wished he’d said he’d been terrified.
“What’s your name?” asked the girl.
“Danny Price. We just moved here. What’s your name?”
“Today it’s Stella Andromeda. This is my trusty dog-droid, Sir Sirius. Tomorrow I’ll probably be somebody else, though. Maybe Florence Nightingale.”
“Who’s that?”
“Oh, she was this wonderful nurse, and she—Hey, maybe you can be a wounded soldier, and I’ll cut off your leg!”
“I don’t know …”
“We can switch if you get bored.”
“Well … maybe.”
“OK. We’ll wait and see who you feel like being before we decide.” She frowned and said, “But if you just want to be yourself, I’ll probably just be me, and you don’t know my real name.” Stella Andromeda considered the problem for a moment. “Well,” she said at last, “I’ll just have to tell you. I’m Albergetta Simonetta Veronica Lynn Blankenberry.”
Danny counted. “You’re the only person I know who has five names.” He thought it was great, but Stella Andromeda didn’t seem to agree.
“Isn’t it awful?” she moaned. “If you have to, call me Al. But only when I’m being me, OK?”
“OK.”
“Good. But what’ll we do now? Do you want to explore the Dark Galaxy with Sir Sirius and me?”
“Sure!”
“You’ll need an outer-space name.” Stella Andromeda looked the new space cadet over while Sir Sirius sniffed his toes.
“How about Star Avenger?”
Stella Andromeda frowned. “What do you think, Sir Sirius?” Sir Sirius licked the space cadet’s tennis shoes and barked.
Stella Andromeda grinned. “Welcome to the space rangers, Star Avenger.” She shook his hand, then put a finger to her lips.
“Do you hear that?”
“What?”
“Come on.”
The two space rangers and their trusty dog-droid trotted steadily through the astral forest. Actually Star Avenger kept getting caught in briars and tripping over tree roots. But his space friend assured him that all he needed was a little practice.
“I hear it now!” whispered Star Avenger. “It sounds like an alien war party.”
“Let’s sneak up and spy on them.”
The space rangers crept through the forest until they reached a ridge that sloped gently down to a thin creek and back up on the other side. Two younger kids—“They’re third graders,” whispered Stella Andromeda—stood with their backs to the rangers, while another crouched over something small and still. She poked it with a stick, and they all screamed with laughter.
“What do they have?” asked Star Avenger.
Stella Andromeda’s face had become very red. Her eyes were dark and stormy. “They’re teasing a ’possum. It looks dead, but that may be just an act.”
“What do you mean?”
“ ’Possums sometimes play dead so that their enemies will leave them alone. It doesn’t look like the act’s going to work, though.”
The kids seemed to be enjoying the game. The girl with the stick poked the ’possum again, while one of her friends tried to feed it some moss. They all laughed hysterically.
Now Star Avenger’s face was every bit as red as Stella Andromeda’s. His hands curled into fists.
“I can’t stand this,” he muttered. “We have to rescue it.”
Stella Andromeda nodded and pulled her laser rod from her pocket.
“Let’s go.” She began to run down the slope, whooping at the top of her lungs and slashing the flashlight around her. Star Avenger added his own war cry and leapt down the ridge after her, with Sir Sirius growling at his side.
Startled, the third graders looked up at them. One lost his balance and fell into the creek. He scrambled out and crawled up the ridge without even looking back. The girl with the stick threw it down and ran along the creek bank, screaming all the way. The remaining tormentor hesitated, then decided two space rangers were more than he could handle. He turned and raced after the girl.
Star Avenger chased the enemy until he heard Stella Andromeda call him back. When he returned, she was hunching over the ’possum. “Is it OK?” he asked, kneeling beside her.
“I think so. At least it’s breathing, and I can’t see any cuts on it. Let’s leave it alone and see what happens.”
They sat down on a fallen tree a few feet away. Sir Sirius lay at their feet.
“Cross your fingers,” whispered Stella Andromeda.
They waited a long time. Star Avenger got a cramp and had to stand up, and still the ’possum didn’t move. “What if it dies?” he whispered.
“We’ll give it a proper space burial.”
Finally the ’possum stirred. Sir Sirius’s ears pricked up, but Stella Andromeda grabbed his collar before he could move. For a long minute the small, beleaguered creature looked warily at the space rangers. Then it turned and sidled quickly up the ridge and into the woods.
“It’s gone home,” said Star Avenger.
Stella Andromeda nodded. “Which is where I should be going.”
“Stella Andromeda,” said Star Avenger as they turned for home, “I think that tomorrow I’ll be an Indian.”
“Great! Sir Sirius will be our trusty sidekick, Bear, and I’ll be Running Buffalo, and we can have a rain dance and a peace council. That is … if you want some company.”
“I’m counting on it!”

Our next stop was at the home of the American consul and his family, also our investigators. They were a wealthy family and lived in a large home in one of the most affluent neighborhoods in the city. We went to the front door and began to sing the same songs we had just sung to the poor people in the monastery.
We had barely started the second verse of our first song when the door opened. Dozens of people came outside and started to sing with us. They were all diplomatic representatives of several countries who had gathered there to commemorate Christmas. We soon saw in their faces the same tears and smiles we had seen in the faces of the poor people living in that abandoned monastery.
When we finished singing, the wife of the consul said, “We were gathered here with everything to make us happy; nevertheless, we felt that something was missing. It was then that you came, bringing the Christmas spirit of Jesus Christ. Now our Christmas is complete.”
Our group consisted of more than 20 missionaries from several parts of the world—Brazil, Portugal, Angola, the United States, Canada, Paraguay, and Colombia. When we were invited in, each missionary bore testimony to the diplomats from his country. As in the monastery, we invited them to hear the discussions and attend church.

Let me share a more recent example of the value of pondering. President Hinckley was in the Mexican colonies visiting the Saints. While riding back from those colonies, he was pondering how far away the temples were from the people. He thought how wonderful it would be for the Saints if we could take the temples to them, rather than having them traveling so far to get to a temple. Into his mind came the idea of a small temple design that was less costly and simpler than traditional temples. President Hinckley took out a small piece of paper, and sketched out what he saw in his mind’s eye; what we now refer to as the “small temple design.”

He returned home to Salt Lake City and subsequently challenged the Presiding Bishopric to set about aggressively building more temples following this small design. In one meeting he quipped: “I would like to see 100 temples operating before I die.” Well, that meant the Presiding Bishopric had to build a lot of temples, because we only had about half that many at the time. The Presiding Bishopric responded by vigorously ramping up the work and, in a relatively few short years, they hired more professionals, divided the department, went vigorously to work building these temples. They met and actually exceeded the prophet’s challenge. President Hinckley’s goal of 100 operating temples before the year 2000 was surpassed. Today, the work continues under the direction of an inspired temple-building prophet of the Lord. We now have 124 operating temples in the world.

“I’m home!” Daddy called. He was home early for Wyatt’s birthday. Wyatt turned five today!
Wyatt ran to him. Daddy gave him a big hug. “After lunch, you and I will go to the park,” Daddy said.
“Just us?” Wyatt asked. He loved his mom and his little sister, Maria, but sometimes he wanted to do things with just Daddy.
“Just us,” Daddy said.
Mommy made a lunch with all of Wyatt’s favorites. She also made a crown out of gold paper and glitter.
“Is that for me?” Wyatt asked, eyes wide.
“It is,” Mommy said.
It was a special birthday!
Wyatt wore the crown to the park. It kept slipping off his head, but he didn’t mind. “Daddy, does my birthday crown make me special?” he asked.
Daddy smiled. “A birthday crown is fun, but it’s not what makes you special. You are special because you are a child of God! And so is everyone else. That means everyone is special too.”
Daddy and Wyatt played on the playground. Wyatt went down the slide.
“Do you think I can go down the slide too?” Daddy asked.
Wyatt giggled. “You’re too big.”
Wyatt climbed up the ladder to go down the slide again. A girl was in front of him. She was afraid to go down. Wyatt thought about how everyone was special to Heavenly Father.
“You can do it!” he said.
She slid down the slide. So did Wyatt.
“Good job!” Wyatt said. She smiled at him, and he smiled back.
Being kind made Wyatt happy! He knew everyone was special, whether they had a birthday crown or not.

A letter written by my father, Haydn Morgan (1926–2010), to Sister Joyce Clarke, reads:
“October 2001.
“This month is special to me, since it’s 40 years ago that I took the 76 bus from the market in Swansea to Brynmill. As I sat upstairs while the bus waited a while, I noticed that Elena Neale got on; at the next stop it was your turn; further on Margaret Berry joined the bus. When I got off at St Gabriel’s church, I was delighted when the three of you alighted as well. It was such a joy to see you and eagerly ask after your families. I do not think you remembered this man accosting you, but how much I remembered you all from those few short meetings attended in that scruffy little hall in Manselton, two years earlier.
“It was mentioned that you were on your way to a Relief Society meeting with a missionary couple living in the next street. When you got there you told the Bronsons of our meeting, with the result that some weeks later they called, and we were in touch with the Church again.
“I believe that like Saul we all have our own Damascus Road (See Acts 9), maybe not with a blinding light, etc. Mine was two years earlier. During that time, I knew that the Church was true, and I yearned to be part of it, but lacked the courage. You three lovely ladies were my Ananias, who opened my eyes, changing my life and that of my loved ones. In these past 40 years, we have had some wonderful experiences, often great challenges, but never any regrets.
“I shall be eternally grateful for that wonderful bus ride with its meeting and later friendship and associations.”
Haydn Morgan and his wife, Joy, were baptised in the spring of 1962.
(Edited for punctuation.)

In the automobile business, the manufacturers of different model automobiles have a lot of skill in attracting young businessmen to become dealers for their line of automobiles. In 1958 I was approached by Ford Motor Company to introduce in Salt Lake City a brand-new line of cars. This line of cars was to be the best that Ford Motor had ever built because it would carry the name of the company president at that time, Edsel Ford. He was the son of Henry Ford, Sr., and Edsel’s son was Henry Ford, Jr.

Well, some of you already know the story because I have shared it from time to time. I made the serious mistake of signing the Edsel franchise. I hope it doesn’t destroy your faith or confidence in the Quorum of the Twelve that you have speaking to you this afternoon the first and only Edsel dealer in the state of Utah.

From the minute I saw this new line of automobiles I had an impression: “Don’t sign the franchise.” That was the Spirit whispering to me, “Don’t do this.”

Then, following that experience came the great pressure from Ford Motor Company with all of their skill and expertise to get me to sign the franchise, which I finally did.

In just one year Ford Motor and its dealers lost hundreds of millions of dollars. That was real money in 1958. The result of not following the prompting of the Spirit was that my loss took our company very close to the brink of bankruptcy. With hard work, diligence, and the support of good partners and by maintaining unquestionable integrity and honesty, we somehow survived and continued in business.

Now, the lesson for you to learn from this personal experience is to listen to the promptings of the Spirit, for it will guide you in what you should or should not do as you make decisions in your personal and spiritual life.

But Elder Jesus Ramon, from Elche, Spain, the only member of the Church in his family, says, “I cried when I got my mission call to Utah. I wanted to serve my people in Spain; share the gospel message with them. I also wanted to be closer to my family and help bring them into the Church. But I prayed and knew that the call was from the Lord through President Spencer W. Kimball, and that Utah was where I should be.”

Now he is glad that he was obedient to the call. “I have seen a great deal of progress in the attitude of my family toward the Church. They are now attending church because of the change for the good they have seen in my life, and because they like the members. I feel that one of the blessings of serving a mission will be to see my family come into the Church.”

Although Elder Ramon is serving an English-speaking mission, he often is the first contact with Mexicans or South Americans living in his area of Zone Eight.

As I was growing up, there were no Church buildings in the entire state of New Jersey, so for a time our little branch met in a hotel in a nearby town. My earliest memory of having a testimony of the gospel was when I was five or six years old and we were having a meeting in the ballroom of the hotel.
An important visitor was there. I don’t remember now who he was, but he was very thin and tall, and I believe he had white hair.
I had grown restless near the end of the meeting as he was speaking, and my mother had been trying to keep me quiet. She finally let me sit backward in my chair so that my legs were dangling from it. Although I wasn’t facing the speaker, I was listening to him. Suddenly I felt a burning in my heart, just like the burning described in Doctrine and Covenants 9:8 [D&C 9:8]: “And if it is right I will cause that your bosom shall burn within you; therefore, you shall feel that it is right.” I remember turning around and seeing this tall man with the light streaming in from the large windows behind him, and I knew that he was a servant of God and that what he was saying was true. The feeling I had then was as clear and sure as anything could be.

Then there was Peter, youngest of the sons. He knew something his brothers didn’t know. Peter received his patriarchal blessing in 1986, after the temple dedication. He talks about going to a small town on the Polish border, attending a small branch in a shabby rented building rich with the Spirit, and then going to the home of the patriarch.
“He told me that I would go on a full-time mission. I would serve in a different country and a different language, and it would be in my youth. I was crying, I felt so close to the Lord in that moment. Afterward, I read my patriarchal blessing every night. I prayed. And I started saving money for my mission. I knew I was going soon.”
Peter just didn’t know where he would be going. (He thought somehow it might be Russia, since he spoke that language fairly well.) And, for some reason, he shared his blessing with his parents but not his brothers. “I was kind of different in my family. I always said, ‘We’re going on a mission, and it’s going to be great. We’re going to change things.’ My brother Matthias was skeptical. But I had my patriarchal blessing. I knew.”
Still, Peter didn’t know how it would happen.
Then, not long before the hated wall came down, the East German government began to allow a few full-time missionaries into East Germany for the first time in fifty years. At the same time, a handful of East German missionaries were allowed out of the country to serve in other nations. For some reason, none of the Lehmanns were permitted to be part of that group.
But then came those November days that were replayed on TV screens all over the world. East Berliners sat atop the wall with hammers and iron bars, tearing apart a barrier that had already been undermined by faith and prayer.
Peter was the first to submit his mission papers. Matthias and Michael followed soon after. All three were called to missions in the United States: Michael in the Tennessee Nashville Mission, Matthias in the Idaho Boise Mission, and Peter in the Colorado Denver Mission.

On December 15, 2005 we were interviewed by President Boyd K. Packer. His secretary had called us a few days before to set up the appointment. President Packer was that year's keynote speaker at the BYU-Hawaii December graduation. During the interview Elder Packer told us we would be called as mission president and companion and that we would be reporting to the Missionary Training Center at the end of June 2006, but did not say which mission we would be serving in. He said the apostles would pray about our names and we would be notified later. On January 16th, President Thomas S. Monson phoned us and called us to serve in a Mandarin speaking mission. We had thought we would be serving in Hong Kong where my husband was from and where he had served his mission. I had previously served in the Taiwan Taipei Mission. I asked my husband if President Monson knew the difference between Cantonese and Mandarin. He said, of course he does! President Monson gave us these counsels. He said:

We wouldn't be on our own or only depend on ourselves. We were entitled to ask and receive the Lord's help because we were on his errand.

Well, on Feb 24 we received the official call letter and we were called to the Taiwan Kaohsiung Mission! We were ecstatic! I felt it was my treat! My husband and I both spoke Mandarin, though I cannot read or write much.

Now, some might wonder, why would THEY be called? I can honestly tell you that we are no better than anyone else. We were not more prepared. We were not more righteous. We were just willing to do what was asked of us and to serve the Lord. And we loved missionary work.

I would like to quote Elder Neal A. Maxwell, he said:
"God does not begin by asking us about our ability, but only about our availability, and if we then prove our dependability, he will increase our capability!" (Its Service, Not Status, that counts, Ensign July 1975)

This is true of all our church callings. We know that when we do the Lord's work faithfully, he will guide and help us. We must trust Him. If we are dependable, He will increase our capability. I often say that the reason my husband was called as mission president was because he did his Home Teaching faithfully. We don't aspire for a calling, but we can prepare. Prepare by serving faithfully in whatever calling we have.

We know it's difficult. Our challenges started as soon as the interview with President Packer was over. We had parked our car in the parking lot next to the administration center. It was 1:30 p.m., not long after the graduation exercises. We were gone only about 30 minutes and found out someone had backed into our car leaving a big dent in the trunk. They left no note. Their white paint was still in the car. I started to laugh. I told my husband: I know trials are going to come because of our call, but this soon? I felt sorry for the person who did it, because they did not act honestly.

Other challenging and sad things also happened. One of the main ones was when doing more extensive medical exams for my husband in preparation for our mission, they found out that he had major blockage of his three main coronary arteries. He had had no symptoms and even his EKG was normal; the year before we had even done the Great Aloha Run.

The cardiologist recommended we have the bypass surgery done in the mainland. This was March 27th and we were supposed to report to the MTC June 24th. Do you know the saying, "It takes a village to raise a child?" Well, it takes angels to send a mission president off. Our angels were Kent and Connie Watson. President Watson was a volunteer here at BYU-Hawaii. He had served as Taiwan Taichung mission president and is now the 1st counselor in the Asia Area presidency. He helped us to get in touch with his friend, a cardiologist, and nine days later my husband had 6 open heart bypass surgery done at LDS hospital. We stayed at the Watson's home in Salt Lake City, drove their car and ate their food. They stayed in Laie and took care of our dog and house and ate at Turtle Bay.

My husband had other complications due to the surgery. His vocal cords were damaged due to the prolonged time of the surgery when he had the tube down his throat. He had surgery to correct that because he could only whisper. As you know you can't be a preacher or a teacher without a voice!

His other serious complications developed 3 weeks after his surgery, when the unknown blood clots in his leg went to his lungs. When he fainted in the doctor's office and they called an internal response in the hospital intercom (or a code), I thought we were losing him. We were so lucky the doctor's office was in the hospital, so they could wheel him right into the coronary ICU and give him IV meds. He also developed a stress ulcer which caused him to bleed internally. But we reported to the MTC on time on June 24th. My husband still could only speak in a whisper, so I was the spokeswoman. I didn't mind that!

All these trials only increased our resolve to do our best to serve the Lord. My husband used to say the mission call saved his life and that he was living on borrowed time, so he worked tirelessly.

You might not face a career path that is filled with so much pressure and temptation, but in my case, being a professional athlete exposed me to a very different lifestyle than I was used to. For example, when we arrived in big cities and traveled in the beginning, my teammates immediately wanted to go out and participate in different activities that were not aligned with gospel standards, and I knew right then that I couldn’t straddle Zion and Babylon. I couldn’t answer “let me think about it” in order to appease them. Instead, I needed to be firm in my faith and explain why I couldn’t join them.
Vai with his wife, Keala, on their wedding day
Family photographs courtesy of the author
I was fortunate that I was married while I was in college. When I went to the NFL, my wife and our six-month-old baby were with me. We were married in the temple, and I knew what those covenants meant to me and what they required of me. So I would tell my teammates, “No, I don’t do that.” And when they pressed, I’d say, “My wife and I were married in the house of the Lord where we made sacred covenants. Those covenants are more important to me than anything else.”
And the odd thing is when they asked me those questions and were absolutely certain about what kind of person I was, those same teammates began to protect me and respect my standards and covenants. It requires courage to stand up for what you believe and cherish.

In many ways, Ricardo has already begun his missionary service. “He was an example to me because he always went to church,” says Ricardo’s grandmother, Mavila Ruiz Cárdenas. For several years she had listened to the missionaries who came to visit with the family. And all the while Ricardo was there: sitting in and listening to the discussions, faithfully attending church each Sunday, even teaching his grandmother the hymns.
When he was eight years old and attending church by himself, he had not felt prepared for baptism. But, says Ricardo, “when my grandmother said she was ready to be baptized, then I was sure I was ready also.” So when Ricardo was 10, he and his grandmother were baptized on the same day.

“OK, Mckay, it sounds like you need a time out.” Mother’s voice was smooth and calm, but Mckay could still hear the strain in it. “You two shouldn’t be acting this way.”
Mckay frowned. “Then why doesn’t Josie have to sit in a ‘quiet’ chair? She started it by calling me names.”
Mother sighed as she peeled and sliced bananas on top of the banana cream pie she was making. Instead of answering Mckay’s question, she asked him one, “How old is Josie?”
“She’s only three, but she drives me crazy,” Mckay replied, huffing the words from his mouth as if they were hot peppers.
Mother ignored his rudeness. “And how old are you, Mckay?”
Mckay swallowed some of the angry lump in his throat as he began to realize what his mother was trying to say. “I’m eight.”
Mother smiled and nodded. “Do you think that that might be why you’re sitting there, instead of Josie?”
Mckay only shrugged. Mother continued, “I think that Josie knows something is wrong, but she doesn’t quite understand what or why.” Mother slipped the pie into the refrigerator. “But you understand, right?”
Again Mckay shrugged.
“Read Josie a story, and then you may be excused,” Mother said.
Josie overheard and ran to the bookcase. She picked out her favorite story about Adam and Eve and scooted her chair next to Mckay.
As Mckay read, he knew that Josie was more interested in the pictures of the animals than the story, but he still read every word because he knew that his mother could hear.
Mckay closed the book when he’d finished. Josie opened it and begged him to read the story again. Mckay looked at Mother, who was waiting to see what he would do.
“Fine,” Mckay said. This time he simply told the story. “Adam and Eve chose to eat the fruit that God told them not to eat. As a result, they knew right from wrong and they had to leave the Garden of Eden, and that’s the end.”
Josie giggled, “Read again.”
This time Mckay grumbled, “Mom, do I have to?”
“I don’t think she minds your quick version,” Mother said with a smile. “But there’s one thing that you could add this time.”
“What?”
“You forgot the part where Adam and Eve told the Lord they had eaten of the fruit. They understood that they had made the choice to disobey one law to obey another, and that they were accountable for that choice, right?”
Mckay was thoughtful as he looked at the picture of Adam and Eve leaving the garden. They knew what they had done, and they were ready to accept the consequences of their choice. In other words, they were ready to do whatever Heavenly Father said that they needed to do now. McKay had never thought of it that way before.
“They don’t look happy and carefree anymore, do they?” Mother asked.
Mckay flipped the pages back to the beginning of the book. His mother was right. At the start of the story, they looked different—sort of like Josie.
Mckay was quiet all through dinner. He thought of his baptism, remembering how long he had waited to be eight so that he could be accountable. For the first time, he was thankful that Heavenly Father had made him wait to be baptized until he truly understood that he was responsible for his own choices.
When Mother passed out the banana cream pie, Josie couldn’t wait politely for Mother to help her eat her piece. She quickly grabbed it and started eating with both hands.
“Oh, Josie,” Mother gently scolded. “What a mess!” She wiped Josie’s hands and mouth and changed her bib.
Mckay ate his piece as quickly as he could. He dropped a gooey banana on his shirt.
“What a mess!” Josie repeated to her mother as she pointed at Mckay’s dirty shirt.
Taking his napkin, Mckay wiped his shirt clean, smiled, and simply said, “Yep, but I’m old enough to know when I’ve made a mess, and I take care of it the best I can.”
“Mess all gone!” Josie clapped her hands in surprise as if she thought the shirt had been cleaned by magic.
Mckay laughed, “Wait till you’re eight, little sister. Then you’ll get to clean up your messes, too.”
Mother smiled and winked at Mckay. “That’s right, Josie. Just wait.”

Our family lived in Germany from 1983 to 1986. A member of our ward worked for the U.S. government and had responsibility for certain aspects of academic training for the American military personnel who were there. He asked me if I would teach a week-long course to soldiers in a nearby city. I had not been in any kind of full-time work situation since having children, and I was anxious both about my ability to teach the course and also about leaving my son and daughters. I finally agreed to teach when a woman in our ward, who had become a friend of our family, offered to tend.

I was to start my first class at 8:00 Monday morning. About 8:30 the Sunday night before, I received a call from the woman’s husband telling me she had had a medical emergency and had been rushed to the hospital. Although her situation had stabilized and she was in no immediate danger, she obviously would not be able to watch my children the following day. We had no family nearby and, because we were so new to the country, I didn’t know people in our neighborhood well enough to call and ask them to help. I hung up the phone and went back into the living room, where two elders from our area were just completing a discussion to a young male investigator. Our home offered the missionaries the privacy that was sometimes lacking in the living arrangements of those they were teaching, and we had invited them to come whenever they wished. As I told them of my plight, the investigator said that his girlfriend had just lost her job and might be willing to help us. Under normal circumstances I would not have considered losing a job as a sterling recommendation for watching my children, but at this time and in this situation it was enough. I immediately called the young woman, who was willing to come. The only area of concern was that she smoked, and she agreed to go outside for her breaks.

I want to pause in this part of the story for a moment and tell you about an experience earlier that same Sunday. A young sister in our ward was teaching a Relief Society lesson about the importance of family home evening. Suddenly, right in the middle of her lesson, she said that she felt inspired to ask each one of us individually to commit to having family home evening the next night. This was a little irritating to me because I had already made a conscious decision to skip it this week since I would be so busy and probably a little stressed as well. But as she questioned me directly, I felt there was nothing I could say but that I, too, would promise to spend this time with my family.

Monday evening I came home from work to find that all had gone well. I personally was exhausted as we finished dinner, and I began preparations for the next day of teaching. However, my promise of the day before to hold family home evening would not leave me alone. Finally I went to my file drawer and hastily selected one of the family home evening packets my sister, Carol, and I had prepared together before our family moved to Germany. I had made a simple drawing of a boy figure named Sammy who had a big mouth, which was cut out. I also had a picture of a garbage can with a hole cut in its lid. There were smaller pictures of things like fruit, vegetables, milk, cheese, bread, etc.—all healthy things—and beer, wine, cigarettes, cigars, drugs, etc., which were not good for the body. The children selected an item and then decided where to place it. Things that would keep Sammy healthy went in his mouth, and the unhealthy things were thrown in the trash. The entire lesson on the Word of Wisdom—including prayers, music, and treats—was completed in record time. I no longer felt guilty and was able to return my focus to the lessons for the next day.

When I returned home Tuesday, the baby-sitter announced that she had decided to quit smoking. Then she told of how our daughters had gone out to her in the yard that day as she was smoking. They wrapped their arms around her and told her they loved her and that they didn’t want her to die. Then they brought her into the house and gave her a little lesson with Sammy.

Wednesday night our baby-sitter had the children’s version of the Book of Mormon in her hands as I walked through the door. She said she and the children had finished reading it that day. Although it was quite interesting, she knew there must be more to the story and asked if I had any other reading materials I could share with her. I often wonder if people investigating the Church have any idea what they are getting into when they ask such a seemingly simple question. By the time my work assignment was finished on Friday, she had a stack of books and an appointment with the elders. A few months later she was baptized, and a year after that she was married in the temple. Not only is she now a member of the Church, but so are her children.

It all started with a young sister who followed the prompting to ask those in her Relief Society class to commit to having family home evening. The teacher moved out of our ward shortly after her lesson and likely never knew of the great impact her decision to follow a prompting of the Holy Ghost would make. I have shared with you only our story. Who knows how many other lives were touched because she was humble and allowed the Lord to lead her by the hand?

BARBARA: I have a friend I am really close to at school. We were both trying out for something. We worked together, and helped each other, and we even prayed for each other. Then talking with her the other day, I found out she isn’t a member of our church. She is a Buddhist! I was so surprised! The whole time I had been treating her like a Mormon. We had become really close; she came up to me one day, started crying, and told me how much she appreciated me. And I thought, if we could only treat everyone as if he were a member, then we’d have no problems.

I will begin with a true story. The characters are real. He was well-proportioned and, like King David, “ruddy, and withal of a beautiful countenance, and goodly to look to” (1 Sam. 16:12).

With him at his side was a lovely girl, slight of frame and beautiful of face and form. It was obvious that they loved one another, for as they sat together across the desk from me, he reached quietly for her hand and there were meaningful glances.

The melodious voice was hesitant and a bit choked with emotion as he introduced his girl friend, and there was pleading in their eyes. “We are in difficulty, Brother Kimball,” he said. “We have broken the law of chastity. We prayed and fasted and agonized and finally came to the conclusion that we must try to make adjustments.

“That junior prom date was a turning point. It started out a very special one. But as I see it now, it turned out to be a tragic one, the beginning of our troubles. When I saw her coming downstairs that night, I thought no girl was ever so beautiful and so sweet. We danced through the evening; and then when we sat in the car, long and silently afterward, my thoughts became unruly as we became more and more intimate.

“Neither of us dreamed what was happening to us,” he continued, “but all the elements were there to break down resistance. We did not notice time—the hours passed. The simple kisses we had often exchanged gradually developed into petting. We stopped at that. But there were other nights—the bars were down. We loved each other so much that we convinced ourselves that it was not so wrong merely to pet since we sort of belonged to one another anyway. Where we ended one night became the starting point for the next night, and we continued on and on, until finally it happened—almost as though we could not control ourselves—we had intercourse. We had even talked about it and agreed that whatever else we did we would not go that far. And then when it was late—so late—so everlastingly late—we woke up to the meaning of what we had done.”

“Can we be forgiven, Brother Kimball?” the young couple asked.

“Yes,” I replied, “the Lord and his church can and will forgive, but not easily. The way of the transgressor is hard. It always has been and it always will be. The Lord said: ‘I tell thee, thou shalt not depart thence, till thou hast paid the very last mite’” (Luke 12:59).

But I went on to tell them that in his goodness he provided for us a way to forgiveness. One may do as he pleases, but he cannot evade responsibility. He may break laws, but he cannot avoid penalties. One gets by with nothing. God is just. Paul said, “Be not deceived; God is not mocked; for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap” (Gal. 6:7).

Our camp near the ice caves at Banff, Alberta, was the scene of my first effort at getting along with guys who couldn’t cook, who argued over who got to light the fire, and who complained more than I did after a long hike. It wasn’t quite like home, but we set up camp and decided on rules to make things run smoothly.
The first night my feet were freezing, and I wanted to climb into my sleeping bag to warm up and go to sleep. I learned a lesson when the patrol leader suggested that a better way would be to do what the group wanted and warm my feet by sitting near the fire for a while instead of going to bed. Another time a fellow hurt his ankle. This meant he had to be carried down to camp. Some of the boys had to stay with him until everyone else finished exploring the caves. We solved the problem of who was to stay, and other similar problems that came up, by the discussion/vote method. “Choose a number from one to one hundred,” the patrol leader would say, and then if you chose the wrong number, you smiled, stayed, and cleaned camp or buried garbage.
Scout camps help fellows become real friends. We learned to help each other, to serve, to give in sometimes, and to abide by the rules of the camp for the benefit of all. If casual friends can get along and have a great time living together by the common consent method, I guess real families ought to be able to, too.