Gospel Story Finder

Elder Darwin B. Christenson, a new member of the Second Quorum of the Seventy, says that experiences with his children have strengthened his testimony of the gospel, the eternal family, and the power of the priesthood. Not long after he and his wife went through the heartbreak of losing a baby shortly after birth, their next child, Stephen, was born prematurely. Because the baby’s lungs were underdeveloped, doctors gave him a 50 percent chance of surviving.
Elder Christenson and the family’s home teacher gave the tiny infant a blessing as he lay in a hospital incubator, surrounded by tubes and medical equipment. Afterward, says Elder Christenson, “I told my wife not to worry; he was going to be OK.” The next morning, true to the impression Elder Christenson had received, Stephen showed marked improvement. Today, Stephen is the father of three boys.

I learned to swim in the swift-running currents of the Provo River in beautiful Provo Canyon. The “old swimming hole” was in a deep portion of the river, formed by a large rock which had fallen into the river, I assume, when the workmen constructing the railroad were blasting through the canyon. The pool was dangerous, what with its depth of sixteen feet, its current, which moved swiftly against the large rock, and the sucking action of the whirlpools below the rock. It was not a place for a novice or the inexperienced swimmer.
One warm summer afternoon when I was about twelve or thirteen, I took a large, inflated inner tube from a tractor tire, slung it over my shoulder, and walked barefoot up the railroad track which followed the course of the river. I entered the water about a mile above the swimming hole, sat comfortably in the tube, and enjoyed a leisurely float down the river. The river held no fear for me, for I knew its secrets.
That day the Greek-speaking people in Utah held a reunion at Vivian Park in Provo Canyon, as they did every year. Native food, games, and dances were the order of the day. But some left the party to try swimming in the river. When they arrived at the swimming hole, it was deserted, for afternoon shadows were beginning to envelop it.
As my inflated tube bobbed up and down, I was about to enter the swiftest portion of the river just at the head of the swimming hole when I heard frantic cries, “Save her! Save her!” A young lady swimmer, accustomed to the still waters of a gymnasium swimming pool, had fallen from the rock into the treacherous whirlpools. None of the party could swim to save her. Suddenly I appeared on the potentially tragic scene. I saw the top of her head disappearing under the water for the third time, there to descend to a watery grave. I stretched forth my hand, grasped her hair, and lifted her over the side of the tube and into my arms. At the pool’s lower end, the water was slower as I paddled the tube, with my precious cargo, to her waiting relatives and friends. They threw their arms around the water-soaked girl and kissed her, crying, “Thank God! Thank God you are safe!” Then they hugged and kissed me. I was embarrassed and quickly returned to the tube and continued my float down to the Vivian Park bridge. The water was frigid, but I was not cold, for I was filled with a warm feeling. I realized that I had participated in the saving of a life. Heavenly Father had heard the cries, “Save her! Save her,” and permitted me, a deacon, to float by at precisely the time I was needed. That day I learned that the sweetest feeling in mortality is to realize that God, our Heavenly Father, knows each one of us and generously permits us to see and to share His divine power to save.

The Wolfgramms took their Polynesian show on the road and traveled all over the United States and Canada. When they got a full-time offer from a Hawaiian hotel chain in Minneapolis, they packed their bags and moved. Minneapolis was about as far removed from Tonga as it could possibly be, but the Wolfgramms liked it there and contributed to the local ward as well as to the local entertainment industry. The missionaries in the area could always find a willing member of the family to go on splits with them, and their refreshing performances stimulated a lot of questions from the audiences about “what makes them so different?”
They were devastated, then, when the hotel chain they were working with folded. For several months the family of 15 lived in the hotel owners’ basement. They decided that it would be more profitable to switch from Polynesian to pop music, and they began traveling in an old, uninsulated van, to whatever engagements they could scrape up. “The van didn’t have any seats,” Leroy recalls, “and we sat in chairs against the sides. Sometimes we traveled in 40 below temperatures, and there would be ice on the roof—on the inside. We had no money, but Dad knows how to survive. When we didn’t have any place to stay, Dad would say ‘Let’s try camping in the snow—it’s different!’”
“Those were crazy days,” Eugene adds. “We’d live on balogna sandwiches, stop at a gas station to wash our faces, then go in and perform.”
Finally, however, their efforts and dedication payed off. Don Powell, an entertainment industry expert who had managed some top groups in the 60s and 70s, heard them play. He had retired from entertainment because the industry had become “so bizarre,” but when he heard the Wolfgramms, his interest was rekindled.
“The reason I reentered this business was literally because of this family,” says Don, who had had very little contact with the LDS church before he met the Wolfgramms. “They’re just too good to be true. Not only are they tremendously talented, but they have an unusually strong work ethic for their age. The whole family is so loving and bright, I couldn’t help getting involved. And we’ll never have problems with drugs or alcohol or anything like that, as you do with so many entertainers. It’s absolute heaven to manage them.”

I was taught how a quorum works in these three aspects many years ago when I attended a high priests group meeting in a small community in southern Wyoming. The lesson that week was on justification and sanctification. It was evident, as the lesson began, that the teacher was well prepared to instruct his brethren. Then a question prompted a response that changed the whole course of the lesson. In response to the question, one brother commented: “I have listened with great interest to the lesson material. The thought has crossed my mind that the information presented will soon be lost if we do not find application to put the material presented into practice in our daily lives.” Then he went on to propose a course of action.

The night before, a citizen of the community had passed away. His wife was a member of the Church, but he had not been. This high priest had visited the widow and offered his sympathy. Leaving the home after the visit, his eyes wandered over the beautiful farm of the deceased brother. He had put so much of his life and labor into building it up. The alfalfa was ready to cut; the grain would soon be ready to harvest. How would this poor sister cope with the sudden problems now falling on her? She would need time to get herself organized for her new responsibilities.

Then he proposed to the group that they apply the principles they had just been taught—by working with the widow to keep her farm operating until the widow and her family could find a more permanent solution. The balance of the meeting was spent in organizing the project to assist her.

As we left the classroom, there was a good feeling among the brethren. I heard one of them remark as he passed through the doorway, “This project is just what we needed as a group to work together again.” A lesson had been taught; a brotherhood had been strengthened; a service project had been organized to assist someone in need.

Photographs provided by the author; photo illustration by David Stoker
Sixteen! What a time of life! “Nobody should have to go through this alone,” I thought.
My wise parents were kind and always gave me good counsel. My older sister had just gotten married and moved out of state. My little brother was involved with his 11-year-old concerns. I had great friends, and I knew my Church leaders sincerely cared about me.
But my older brother, Gary, was my confidant. I looked up to him in all things as a teenager. “Whenever I talk to him, things make more sense,” I said to myself. “I wish he could be here right now.”
But he wasn’t. He was far away in Japan, serving a full-time mission.
Despite missing Gary, I did have a fun birthday.
My mom made me our traditional birthday breakfast, and I received a few gifts before going to school. That night, my family and I went out for a pizza dinner and ended with birthday cake. I even let myself daydream about dating, driving, and other exciting things I would do as a 16-year-old.
However, the best present I received that day
was a letter in the mail. Gary hadn’t forgotten my super special day! This was before the days of email, so a letter took a long time to travel from Japan to Cache Valley, Utah, USA. I was amazed that his letter arrived right on my birthday! The letter was handwritten, which made it more like having my brother present with me as I read:
“Dear Merilee:
“Well, you have got the big birthday coming up, don’t you? I guess when you get this letter it will already be past. I can’t believe it—you are 16 years old. It seems like only a few years ago when you used to [wear your little red cowboy hat].
“Stay sweet and pure, and always let everyone know that the Church means a lot to you. If you do that, you won’t ever get into a situation where you have to make a decision with all the peer pressure weighing on you. Example: In high school, everyone knew that I didn’t want to drink or smoke, not at all, so I never got invited to a party where that sort of thing went on. My friends knew I didn’t do that. …
“If you let people know your standards, then people with your standards are attracted to you. I don’t mean you have to tell everyone, but actions speak loud. Your spirit is really sweet, and you do fit your name. And you have a good sense of humor. Happy ‘Sweet 16’ Birthday!”
The last sentence was underlined in red. No other birthday present could’ve been better! I read it over and over again, until he was back home from Japan and we could finally talk to each other face to face.
It has been years since I received that letter, but
I still have it. Many things have changed since then, but not my love for my brother. Today I sustain him not only as my brother and friend but also as Elder Gary E. Stevenson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. The counsel he offers as a special witness of Christ to all
the world is an added strength in my life, just like the letter he sent me on my 16th birthday.
The author lives in Utah, USA.

While I was serving my first mission to Mexico and Central America, my companion and I received a very interesting final assignment from our mission president. He asked us to leave the mission home and go down to a town in Southern Mexico, where some months before missionaries had been withdrawn due to religious and political persecution. Their lives had been threatened by mobs. A few converts had been baptized, but a real organization of the Church had not been established. As a result, these new members had been left alone, and for months the mission president heard little about how things were going.

We were given a list of names and asked by the mission president to go there, find the people, see how they were doing, and, if possible, locate a place where we could quietly conduct a sacrament meeting. For all those months, they had not had the privilege we take so much for granted of partaking of the sacrament each week.

We arrived early in the morning and immediately searched for the address of the first name on the list. We located her address and passed through a door in a high adobe wall that surrounded a crowded cluster of tiny huts around a central area.

It seemed that everyone there was watching us. Back in the corner was a little grass-thatched hut. The sister we were looking for came to the door, saw us, and easily recognized by our dress that we were missionaries. With tears in her eyes, she rushed to us and greeted us with a hug. We identified ourselves and told her why we were there.

After this brief greeting, she went back into her hut and brought out a clay jar into which she put her hand and withdrew some money she had been saving for months. Even though she had been alone without any Church organization, she had been saving her tithing with faith and hope that someday her tithing would be taken to the appropriate place.

She obviously had many unmet needs; yet, she was handing us money. My first impression was not to accept it and to encourage her to spend it wherever she might need it. Then I realized that it was not my right to do so because she was obeying a commandment. She had gained a testimony that tithing is a divine commandment and was willing to live that principle—even when she was alone.

We need the courage to live up to our standards, especially when there is no one around to check up on us. Then, regardless of where we are, away from home for the first time, in college, in a social setting where there are all kinds of temptations, or any place else—we can stand up for that which we know is true and live consistently with our ideals.

In your growing up there are many calls for courage, as you have heard so eloquently tonight from President Romney.
“
“You’re young, with your life before you,” said the chaplain on a sinking ship. “Here, take this,” he said. And with these words the chaplain shoved his life preserver into the hands of an enlisted man, and a few moments later, went down with the ship.
“The date was February 3, 1943. The tragedy was the torpedoing of the American troop ship Dorchester. The chaplain was one of four, all of whom said in effect the same thing, gave up their life preservers, and sacrificed their lives: one was a Catholic; two were Protestants; one was Jewish.
“Their heroism was a dramatic example of chaplains’ action in an emergency and it has become known everywhere. But chaplains’ day-to-day service for the men in the armed forces is less well understood, and it is important to all of us.” (Source unknown)

A mother and father were blessed with a beautiful baby girl. They named her Karen. The mother and father loved Karen very much. They believed that the most important thing they could do to teach Karen to be happy was help her gain a testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Every morning and evening Karen’s mother and father helped her pray, and after a few years Karen was able to pray all by herself.
They taught her about Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ and Their love for her. Her parents told her scripture stories, and even though Karen couldn’t understand everything they said, she felt warm and happy inside as she listened. They taught her to love and be kind to others, to be honest, to take care of her body, and to live the law of tithing.
Her parents also took Karen to church. She liked Primary and listened closely to her teachers as they, too, taught her about the gospel and about how important it was to obey the commandments. All these things helped her testimony grow.
When Karen turned eight years old, she was baptized and confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She received the gift of the Holy Ghost—a sweet, comforting spirit that also testified that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ lived and that the Church was true. The Holy Ghost also helped her to know what was right.
Karen loved family home evening. Her family often bore their testimonies to each other and told one another how much they loved each other and the gospel. As her parents listened to Karen, they were happy to know that her testimony was growing. And Karen was grateful for all the people who had helped her gain her testimony.

During my first assignment in Boise, I was called to serve as the priests quorum adviser. There were 23 priests in the old Boise Ninth Ward. Two were serving in the military. Nineteen of the 21 received individual awards. The bishop of the ward was Floyd Fletcher. What a bishop. What a boy’s man. What a Scouter. Every year the ward provided welfare to the storehouse through the beans we raised, picked, and canned. When the beans would be ready for harvest, the whole ward had to be mobilized. The men and boys of the priesthood would pick the beans, the sisters would cut and clean them, and then we would take them to the cannery to can.

We would pick the beans early in the morning before going to work. The bean patch buzzed with brethren and sisters working up and down the rows. Working alongside my priests was a joy I shall never forget. I got close to them. Even though it was an early hour in the morning and fairly cool, we would soon work up a sweat. We would talk about swimming in the cold mountain rivers where we had our annual Aaronic Priesthood outings. We shared personal stories, laughed and joked, and had a great time. It was fun. No one resented being asked to work. In fact, I think people would have felt left out if they hadn’t been involved.

I remember one morning, about 7:30, when we were finishing up so we could get back home to get ready to go to work. One of the priests challenged all the others and myself to take a swim in the canal. In only a moment, a priests quorum adviser and all the priests were swimming in the canal. At that early hour it took our breath away. I can still feel the love, camaraderie, and fellowship with a quorum of priests who had gotten up about 4:30 or 5:00 A.M., worked for a couple of hours on the Lord’s farm, and then went swimming in the canal together.

For their efforts in saving the life of Levi Tapp, Sand Tapp and David Bos received Boy Scout National Council certificates of Heroism.
In a televised presentation, the two 11-year-olds received gold medals for risking their lives to save another’s. The three boys were walking along the bank of a lake close to their home. Levi slipped in the mud and fell through the ice at the edge of the lake. Sand and David crawled out to Levi, and with one holding the legs of the other, grabbed Levi and inched him up onto solid ice. Sand wrapped Levi in his coat and carried him the half mile to his home.
The boys are from the Second Ward, Springfield Missouri Stake.

So when Steve Sargent failed to receive an athletic scholarship, his life came apart, right? Wrong. He had another dream beyond that of athletic stardom. He wanted to serve the Lord on a mission. He had already completed four years of seminary. He had read the scriptures, maintained his personal worthiness, and tried to save some money. Now he was ready to fine tune himself before the big event.

Attending BYU on an academic scholarship, he took a missionary preparation class. His parents recall, “When he wrote home from the Y he would say, ‘I can hardly wait to get out. I wish I were in the mission field!’ That was six months ahead of time. When they extended missionary service from 18 months to two years, we thought he might be a little disappointed, but he just said, ‘Boy that’s great!’ There was also a lot of hard personal prayer. And a lot of discussion with his roommates and others who were preparing for missions.”

Finally, his papers came. He went shopping, visited the doctor and dentist, spoke at a marvelous farewell, hugged his hugs, and said his goodbyes.
The MTC was wonderful, all except for getting up at 6:30, but Steve mastered that as he had mastered the spiral pass and the jump shot. Then came the mission field and the realization that missionary work is tough. As tough as football or basketball.
“I’d say it’s harder,” Elder Sargent insists. “Maybe not physically, although physically it wears you down sometimes too. But mentally it’s a lot tougher. You need to put out more effort to be a good missionary than to be a good quarterback.
“Everybody says in their homecoming talk how great it was, so I always expected to spend 24 hours a day on a spiritual high. I soon found out that it isn’t like that. There’s a lot of hard work involved, but when you see the results it’s worth it.”
And then, there was always the language barrier. “The first two weeks I thought they were speaking Chinese.” But his ear soon adjusted, and his tongue got used to its new assignment. “I feel that the Lord’s really helped me a lot in picking up the language.”
The initial hard times brought Steve closer to his family. His dad says, “You suffer with him when he’s down, and you just want to be there and put your arms around him and say, ‘It’s okay.’ We’ve drawn closer to Steve through the hard times than through the good. We know that he has to go through the refiner’s fire in order to learn. We want him to learn to struggle and sacrifice, but at the same time, we pray that the Lord is gentle with him so that it’s a positive struggle after all is said and done, so that he progresses in his testimony and understanding of people and love and commitment to them.”
Brother Sargent’s prayers have been answered. Steve found that every sacrifice was more than matched by a blessing. If the mission field was harder than he expected, it was more rewarding too. The letters he writes home make glad reading for his parents. “I’m really feeling a lot more love for my Father in Heaven and for Jesus Christ. I set a goal to focus my thoughts on Christ when I’m down and thinking about other things. I know that I will grow to love him even more as my mission goes on. When I think about it, I just get warm all over and feel great. There are still plenty of rough times, but I know whom I can always rely on.”
But after all is said and done, there still aren’t any newspaper clippings. Isn’t missionary work a little boring after athletic stardom? “Missionary work is awesome! The rewards are far greater than the rewards of athletics. A touchdown is thrilling, but it doesn’t compare to a baptism.”
There has been personal growth too. Some of it Steve probably can’t even see because he’s too close to himself. Some of it he can. “I can see life a lot clearer. I know why we’re here. I can see the plan that our Father in Heaven has given us in order to be able to live with him again and become like him. It’s neat to finally see that plan come into focus and really understand what he has done for us.
“I’m a much different person than I was just a few months ago. If I hadn’t come on a mission I’d still be thinking sports were the most important thing in life. I might have learned this in time anyway, but it comes a lot faster on a mission.”
Of course Steve still loves sports too. “I’m sure they’ll have athletics in the next life,” he says.
Steve’s love has grown along with his understanding. He wrote home: “This last week I actually started to enjoy my mission. It happened after I got the tape from home. And I’d been praying quite a bit. I really realized how much my family means to me. I’m just overjoyed to be alive. Our family is so special, and I love you all so much. I realize that the love I feel for you is the thing I need to share with these people.”
As an athlete, Steve prepared carefully for each game, and afterward he would evaluate his preparation so he could do better next time. How does he evaluate his mission preparation? “I think we should prepare when we’re younger. I thought I was pretty well prepared, but our preparation can never be equal to the importance of the task. I wish I had saved more money too, because I feel that I could have placed less of a burden on my parents. I especially wish I’d studied the scriptures more. They are so great.”
Steve has expressed the bottom line on mission preparation. It’s impossible to prepare as well as the calling deserves. Still, mission president Eduardo Ayala is pretty pleased with Elder Sargent just as he is. “He’s one of the most impressive missionaries I’ve ever seen. He is always enthusiastic. He is an excellent companion. He works very hard. Nothing discourages him. And furthermore he lives the law of consecration in every sense. It’s a pleasure to work with him.”
Nice words, but don’t look for them in the newspaper. Don’t look for any of Steve’s hard, wonderful mission in the newspaper. Look for it in the smiling faces of those to whom he brings the gospel. Look for it in the person he becomes. Look for it in all the good he does throughout his whole life and beyond. Look for it when the sports clippings have all turned to dust, and you will find it. Because it will be written in the hearts of people, and people last forever.

Once there were two men—one whose name was Ef and the other whose name was Ez. This incident occurred some years ago in the back country where education was at a premium. Ef had a slate and a piece of chalk, and he was sitting under a tree in the shade on a warm day. As he was writing on this slate with his chalk, Ez sauntered up to him. Ef turned and said, “Look, Ez, I can write.” Ez was impressed. He replied, “That’s great. What does it say?” Ef answered, “I don’t know; I haven’t learned to read yet.”

A few years ago a prominent university professor joined the Church. When I asked him to speak before a group of New York businessmen and to explain why he had joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, he said to these men, “I’ll tell you why I joined this church. I came to a time in my life when my heart told me things that my mind did not know. Then it was that I knew the Spirit of the Lord was teaching me, and I knew the gospel was true.” When we understand more than we know with our minds, when we understand with our hearts, then we know that the Spirit of the Lord is working upon us.

Illustration by Brian Call
My parents loved to share the word of the Lord. They regularly gave away boxes containing copies of the New Testament to neighborhoods, prisons, hospitals, and schools.
As part of my parents’ efforts, my father sang, read scriptures, testified of Jesus Christ, and closed with prayer. By being included in that experience as a child, I developed a desire to serve God.
When my father suffered a heart attack, however, what we called “evangelization” ended. I couldn’t distribute copies of the New Testament on my own, so I asked my father for permission to find a missionary church.
By age 15, I began to ask questions about doctrine, baptism, tithing, and church organization. My father said no church today practiced things as taught by the Savior. But if I found such a church, he said, I should join it.
Years later, I had a disagreement with a coworker. When he came by our house to apologize, he left a book titled Our Heritage: A Brief History of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. In it, I read about the martyrdom of the Prophet Joseph Smith. This story touched me deeply.
I also found a photo of two young men wearing white shirts, ties, and name tags. They shared the gospel of Jesus Christ throughout the world. I wondered if there were such missionaries in my town.
That evening I prayed and asked God to help me find His missionary church. The next day I looked for the missionaries. I checked with every person I saw who was wearing a white shirt, but I had no success.
Outside my home a few days later, I saw three people wearing white shirts, ties, and name tags! I ran inside, got the book, and hurried after them.
When I caught up with them, one of them asked, “Can we help you?”
“Is this book from your church?” I asked.
“Yes, it’s our book,” he replied enthusiastically. “We are the missionaries.”
After several weeks of learning about the restored gospel, I was baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. A year later my father was baptized.
Because I still wanted to serve the Lord—a desire that had remained with me since I was young—I began preparing to serve a full-time mission. What joy I felt the day I received my own call to be a full-time missionary!

While studying dental surgery in Nantes, France, Gervais Gerard Zang began to have many questions about life that his Catholic faith did not answer. He began investigating many churches and, on this journey, he met the Latter-day Saint missionaries. He was baptized on 11 November 1989 and, after a few months, received the Melchizedek Priesthood and was ordained an elder in the Church. After obtaining his diplomas in dental surgery, he returned to Cameroon.
On 10 January 1993 the first branch of the Church in Cameroon was organized. Known as the Bastos Branch, it was established in Yaoundé, Cameroon, with Brother Zang as the branch president.
By September of the same year the Church was granted legal recognition by the president of Cameroon. Before the government granted recognition, about 30 people had been baptized and another 60 investigators were attending Sunday meetings. —Sister Julie Brough, Church History missionary in the Africa Central Area

I’ve spent quite a bit of time as a visitor at the Utah State Prison. Some of my best friends are there. I like to go there because every time I go, I learn something. I learn about personal pride. I learn something about performance. I learn something about people.
One day, when I was talking with the warden at the prison, I asked, “How many prisoners do you have here in the prison who might be classified as ‘impossible’?” I knew that the prison was overcrowded—over 800 prisoners in a facility large enough for only 600, and I knew also that there were a lot who were really problems. I remember one day being in the yard with some of them and seeing a tattoo across the chest of one man that said “A Born Loser,” and he was out to prove it. So I was impressed when the warden said that, of all the prisoners at the Utah State Prison, there was only one whom he would classify as being really impossible or incorrigible.
I asked him to tell me about the man. He said that that prisoner has to remain in his cell 23 hours and 40 minutes every day. He cannot be with anyone else. He isn’t insane; he’s just hardened. “We can’t give him any freedom,” the warden told me. “His meals are served in his cell through iron bars. He has toilet facilities and a bed, and that is where he stays all but about 20 minutes of the day, when he is taken out for a shower. The last time he was allowed to be with other prisoners he put a knife through another inmate. He would do this today if he were allowed any freedom.”
No personal pride. No worthy performance. No patience. The only thing he is accomplishing in his life is being number one—number one in impossibility, in incorrigibility.

Years ago President Monson attended a stake conference in Star Valley, Wyoming, USA, with the assignment to reorganize the stake presidency. But he did more than fulfill that duty. He touched the lives of all who attended with a simple gesture of love as he released the stake president, E. Francis Winters, who had served for 23 years.
The day of the stake conference, the members filled the building. It seemed as if each one was saying “a silent thank-you to this noble leader,” who obviously had done his duty with whole-souled devotion. As President Monson stood to speak, he stated how long President Winters had presided in the stake and had been “a perpetual pillar of strength to everyone in the valley.” Then he was prompted to do something he has not done before or since. He asked everyone who had been touched by President Winters’s life to stand. The outcome was electrifying. Every person in the audience rose to his or her feet.
President Monson told the congregation, many of whose eyes were filled with tears, “This vast throng reflects not only individual feelings but also the gratitude of God for a life well lived.”10

Last June my father lost his job. My dad went to a lot of different interviews before getting a job in Jackson, Alabama. None of my family wanted to move because we loved it where we lived in Texas. There were a lot of young people in my ward there, and when we went to visit the Jackson Branch, there were only about 30 people. I felt out of place, but I know we are supposed to be here. I just want to say that the New Era has helped me a lot through this.
Abby AultJackson, Alabama

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

Adjacent to the bird-of-prey sanctuary, the location of my main assignment as a service missionary, there is a large fishing pond where many wild ducks live. Every morning and evening the ducks come to the sanctuary, as we throw grain out for them to eat. One morning we noticed a small American wood duck (what it is doing in England, we still don’t know) that was tangled in a fishing line, with a sharp triple-hook caught to its left leg and wing. We tried to catch and help it, but it kept on escaping.
Finally, one afternoon, we managed to catch the duck using a large net. As we took it out, the duck put up quite a fight, but we were able to restrain it. Then, we carefully tried to remove the sharp fishing hook. The duck panicked and cried out in pain. It thought that we were trying to harm it but, we were trying to help. Eventually, the fishing hook and line were removed, and we released the duck back into the pond. As it ran away from us, I thought to myself, “That poor animal will never know that all along we were just trying to help it.”