Gospel Story Finder

In April 1973, my parents and I traveled from our native Argentina to be sealed in the temple. Since there were no temples in all of Latin America at the time, we flew more than 6,000 miles (9,700 km) each way to be sealed in the Salt Lake Temple. Although I was just two years of age at the time and do not recall the entirety of that special experience, three very distinct images from that trip were fixed in my mind and have remained ever since.

First, I recall being placed close to the airplane’s window and seeing the white clouds below.

Those beautiful, bright clouds endure in my mind as if they had been gigantic cotton balls.

Another image that has remained in my mind is that of a few funny-looking characters at an amusement park in the Los Angeles area. Those characters are hard to forget.

But of much greater importance is this brilliant and unforgettable image:
I clearly remember being in a sacred room of the Salt Lake Temple where sealings of couples and of families are performed for time and for all eternity. I remember the beautiful altar of the temple and recall the bright sunlight shining through the room’s exterior window. I felt then, and have continued to feel since, the warmth, safety, and solace of the gospel light of truth and love.

When Charlotte Baumann stood to bear her testimony at the end of the Frankfurt Germany Stake’s youth conference, she shared an experience that many of the other teens could relate to.
“My biology class was discussing the effects of alcohol on the body,” she said. “I noted that alcohol is poison, nerve poison, and people drink it only because they think it’s fun. The class couldn’t understand that, and then I gave my opinion on it, and that led to the question of why. One boy asked me if my ideas were like the Mormons’, and then I said, ‘Well, I am a Mormon.’ At first he didn’t believe me, and I thought that was pretty funny.”
The questions continued, even into the hallway after class, which is when a thought occurred to Charlotte. “I suddenly remembered that I had the shortened version of For the Strength of Youth, and I passed it around and had people read it. I think some of them did understand me then, and maybe that will have some effect on one or the other of them.”

Ron had no time for school sports once he reached high school because he always had a job, but he made time for loyal friendships that have lasted a lifetime.
“I’ve always admired Ron for who he is, but he wasn’t perfect,” says childhood friend Kraig McCleary. With a smile, he adds, “I’ve told him that if he gets to heaven, I’ll get there too because we did the same things growing up.”
Ron left on his mission in early 1970, but Kraig was thinking about postponing missionary service until after that fall’s hunting season. That’s when Ron called him from his mission.
“I don’t know how he got permission to call, but he chastised me for not being more excited about getting right out on my mission,” Brother McCleary says. “Of course, I didn’t postpone it.”

I stood in my room dressing for the stake dance with the usual painstaking care, wondering why I was going at all. I think the girls that go hold some endless hope of finding him, that sweet, wonderful guy who would never let you stand alone by the wall. I had thought by that third year I had rid myself of that kind of hope, but maybe it would always be there.
That Saturday night was cloudy and breezy as I rolled away in the old family station wagon to pick up the seven people who depend on me for rides.
It began to rain very hard as we reached the stake center, and my carefully fixed hair quickly lost its bounce in the rain. That was enough to make me want to go back home and watch TV, but by then I had to stay.
I stumbled into the bathroom with the intention of repairing what rain damage I could. There I found a group of perfectly dressed, perfect-looking, happy, chattering girls, and I felt crushed. One of the tall, blonde ones asked me if it was raining. I resisted the impulse to say, “No! I just poured a bucket of water over my head to achieve the wet look,” and just said yes, knowing that it was probably going to be a very long night.
By then I had run a brush through my hair and with a sigh pushed open the bathroom door to face the noisy, social atmosphere of the dance. Many of my friends weren’t there, so I just mingled for a few minutes saying hello to various people. I was not in a great frame of mind even with the music and all the people there dancing and having a good time. I’m sure I wouldn’t have recognized Prince Charming if he had sat down next to me.
About 20 minutes after I arrived, I noticed a guy sitting all alone by the stage. He stood out because there was absolutely no expression on his face, and it was obvious by looking at him that he was not “normal.” His face was a little misshapen, he wore big glasses, and I got the impression that he was slow. I began to make assumptions about what he was like, and I even wondered why he would come to a dance at all. I was pretty ashamed of myself as I realized that I’m no Miss America myself, and I would hate for people to glance over me as though I were inconsequential. I tried to push all of these thoughts aside in my mind and just watched people dancing, but I found myself glancing at him every few minutes.
Soon one of my favorite songs came on. I just couldn’t sit there depressed any more, so I made up my mind to ask him to dance. As I made a move to get up, I looked over just in time to see him walking out the door. Without thinking I followed him and saw him throw something in the trash can which I recognized as a tissue. He was heading for the door to leave, so I had to do something quickly. I did the only thing I could: I tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention. As he turned around I saw that his eyes were red and tears were welling up.
It’s hard to describe what I felt during the seconds that followed. I guess it was compassion and guilt (my worries about the car, my hair, and getting asked to dance seemed so trivial now). I wondered at the cruelty of people, myself included, who take it upon themselves to classify people according to those who are “cool” and those who aren’t. I also wondered what Heavenly Father thinks about his children and how they treat one another.
After those few seconds of realization, I remember saying, “Why are you leaving? I really wanted to ask you to dance.” Then he smiled, and his smile was more beautiful to me than any I had ever seen. I felt so good and so touched by what he was teaching me about life and Christlike love.
Well, he danced, or he tried to, but to me he danced beautifully, and I gave no thought to anything but the expression of contentment and happiness I saw on his face. You would have thought he had won the sweepstakes and I was Miss America herself. It was just one little dance, but for me it was a very important lesson.

As a young girl, my grandmother Chasty Olsen Harris had a similar experience. She was tending some children who were playing in a dry riverbed near their home in Castle Dale, Utah. Suddenly she heard a voice that called her by name and directed her to get the children out of the riverbed and up on the bank. It was a clear day and there was no sign of rain. She saw no reason to heed the voice and continued to play. The voice spoke to her again, urgently. This time she heeded the warning. Quickly gathering the children, she made a run for the bank. Just as they reached it, an enormous wall of water, originating with a cloudburst in the mountains many miles away, swept down the canyon and roared across where the children had played. Except for this impelling revelation, she and the children would have been lost.

It seemed perfectly normal when Karen Monahan grabbed the hero’s arm. Then, right on cue, he began his solo performance. But instead of singing the words, he was signing them, telling his part of the story through deaf sign language. No one in the audience knew that Karen had squeezed firmly on Scott’s arm to let him know when to begin. No one needed to know. He performed his actions smoothly, as the other actors had throughout the show, without saying a word.
Then the curtains rushed together, but no one on stage spoke. When the curtains opened again, the cast bowed politely. Although the audience thundered its applause, 30 of the 45 performers couldn’t hear it because they are deaf. But they had communicated so effectively with the audience that nearly everyone watching cheered when the awards were announced. The Los Angeles Ward for the Deaf had won the Los Angeles California Stake roadshow competition, with awards for best acting, best costumes and set, best script, and of course, outstanding roadshow of the year.

A few years ago while I was serving as stake president, I had some special, spiritual experiences, one of which I’d like to share with you today. One time in a stake conference, one of my great friends and reactivated brothers stood and bore his testimony of the power that had come into his life because of the teachings of Jesus Christ and of those who had ministered unto him. His heart was full, his eyes overflowed, as he stood before the audience with his arms around his two sons. He said, “My gratitude knows no bounds. My life has been totally changed by the gospel and by the people who have truly loved me. I will need to spend the rest of my life ministering and teaching others as partial repayment for all that I have received.”
And minister and serve he did, with love, unending effort, and great personal concern. As a home teacher, he was assigned to some special, great families who, as he had once been, were away from the Church and had challenges—some almost overwhelming.
He began his work in earnest, going to them as a friend and servant—a true minister. He visited and visited and served them in every way that he could. At first (just as he had been), they didn’t want to talk to him or hear his message, and often they would leave the room when he came. But he understood, for he had done it himself a hundred times to others, leaving his wife alone to hear them. He understood how they felt, expressed as follows by a reactivated man who is currently a bishop in the Church:
“Because I wasn’t living a righteous life, I looked down my nose at others. When you lose the Spirit of the Lord, you don’t judge things properly. You look to judge negatively and to find fault. You wrap yourself in your own cocoon, so to speak, and you rationalize. But when I started working with these men, I found some of these fellows like to do the things that I like to do. I found out that they put their shoes on the same way I did. It was the influence of those men; they accepted me. They put their arms around me, and they accepted me for what I was and who I was. And we went to work, and I ate in their homes. And I just started catching the Spirit.”
My friend prayed harder and harder for guidance and direction, went to the homes more often, and began to teach and encourage his families to pray for help to overcome problems. He became their servant, their minister, their friend, and now he was able to teach them.
One of the fathers he was teaching had what was thought to be an incurable alcohol problem. Every day after work for twenty years, he bought alcohol and consumed it until he could hardly find his way home. He received friendship and encouragement to pray to heaven for help. One day after his work, while he was driving into the countryside with his bottle, a voice came into his heart to stop his car, walk out into the field, and pray to Father in Heaven for help. His simple prayer was heard by his Father in Heaven, and as he stood up and walked back to his car, all desire to drink liquor left his life. The powers of heaven had descended upon him, and he knew that God lived and loved him.
I heard him later stand before the members and testify of the love of God and of my friend and others who had ministered unto him and taught him. My heart has been touched as I think of how powerful and important the words are: “They taught and did minister one to another.” (3 Ne. 26:19.)
President Spencer W. Kimball gave these insights about the ministry of the Savior: “Never did the Savior give in expectation. I know of no case in his life in which there was an exchange. He was always the giver, seldom the recipient. Never did he give shoes, hose, or a vehicle; never did he give perfume, a shirt, or a fur wrap. His gifts were of such a nature that the recipient could hardly exchange or return the value. His gifts were rare ones: eyes to the blind, ears to the deaf, and legs to the lame; cleanliness to the unclean, wholeness to the infirm, and breath to the lifeless. His gifts were opportunity to the downtrodden, freedom to the oppressed, light in the darkness, forgiveness to the repentant, hope to the despairing. His friends gave him shelter, food, and love. He gave them of himself, his love, his service, his life. The wise men brought him gold and frankincense. He gave them and all their fellow mortals resurrection, salvation, and eternal life. We should strive to give as he gave. To give of oneself is a holy gift.” (The Wondrous Gift, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1978, p. 2.)
One of the great stories on ministering to others comes from Alma in the Book of Mormon. (See Alma 17–19.) Ammon, one of the sons of Mosiah, truly gave himself to teaching and ministering unto the people for over fourteen years. He had waxed strong in the knowledge of truth by searching the scriptures diligently, by much prayer and fasting, and he received the spirit of prophecy and revelation and taught with power and authority from God. He prayed that he might be an instrument in the hands of God to bring the knowledge of the truth unto the Lamanites, a wild and hardened and ferocious people. As he came to the land of Ishmael, the Lamanites bound him and carried him before the king, Lamoni, to slay him or to make a slave of him. And now the ministry and teaching began.
The king asked him if he desired to stay among the Lamanites.
“Yes,” he responded, “for a time—perhaps even until the day I die.”
And the king was pleased with Ammon and untied him and offered him one of his daughters to wife.
But Ammon offered instead himself to be a servant to the king. He tended the flocks with others until a certain day came, and a number of the Lamanites scattered their flocks, causing grave concern, for the king usually killed those who lost their flocks. But this scattering filled Ammon’s heart with joy, for he said, “Now I will show the power that is within me.” He overpowered the enemy and gathered the flocks, and all were astonished at his power, for none of the enemy could touch him.
As the servants returned and testified of the miraculous things that had happened, the king sought to talk to Ammon, who was even at that moment feeding the king’s horses and preparing his chariots. The king was even more astonished and said, “He doth even remember all of my commandments to execute them.”
And now, after this type of ministry, of concern for others, even greater opportunities would be offered him to teach and minister unto the king and others. His words as he came unto the king were, “I am a man and thy servant; therefore, whatever thou desirest which is right, that will I do.”
And the king, seeing and feeling the great power and spirit of Ammon, asked, “Art thou the great spirit who knows all things?” For Ammon had perceived his very thoughts.
The king, feeling this power, told Ammon that he would grant unto him anything he desired. Ammon now had that great opportunity to really influence the king and all of the people, to now teach them of God, and His truths and to extend His blessings. Miracles had already occurred and would follow as the king himself was raised from his bed by Ammon. Many did believe, were baptized, and became a righteous people. The Church was established among them.
Ponder these points as you feel the influence of Ammon’s teachings, his ministry and great example:
The desire of his heart was to bring people to God.
He was always a servant, a minister. He was out among the people.
He prepared himself by fasting, studying the scriptures, and prayer.
He went forth believing he could make a difference with the help of God.
He anxiously looked for every possible opportunity to serve.
He kept all of the commandments.
As a result of doing all of these things, he taught with power and authority and established the Church of God.
The great promise to all of God’s children who truly minister, serve, love, and teach the gospel is that one day they may sit at the right hand of the Savior and be received into His presence. May the Lord make us “able ministers” (2 Cor. 3:6), as were Ammon and my friend. This should be the end result of every principle and truth we learn in the gospel. This is truly the gospel in action.
May we truly minister and teach all of our people, but especially reach out to those who plead in their hearts and through the long, lonely nights for help—our widows, our divorced, our nonmembers, our aged, our less active—to let them know of our concern, our love, and the love of God, until a happier people cannot be found upon the whole land, for “they taught and did minister one to another.” In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Blessings come in surprising ways. In February 2013, I had been serving for six years as an Area Seventy in the Pacific Area and had been asked to extend for a seventh. We had, however, been invited to the Office of the First Presidency, and my wife, Kay, and I were waiting to meet with then-­President Dieter F. Uchtdorf in his office. The thought that he was about to call me as a General Authority had not entered my mind, and we were even more surprised when he told us that we would be living and serving in West Africa until we received a new assignment some years in the future.
We did not suspect that our hearts were about to be filled with love for the wonderful West African people. But they quickly were. Immediately we arrived in Accra and began to meet the members of the Church and others in the countries of Ghana, Nigeria, Côte d’Ivoire, Sierra Leone, Liberia, Togo, Benin, Senegal, Guinea, Mali, The Gambia, and Burkina Faso. What incredible blessings we have received, and what wonderful eternal relationships have been forged.

A week after Bishop Stone was sustained as the new bishop, his executive secretary arranged for an interview with Kevin Blake. Kevin was about to turn 14 and needed to be interviewed about his worthiness to be ordained a teacher.
Kevin waited after church to see the bishop. He didn’t expect it would take long, so Kevin asked his family to wait for him.
“Hello, Kevin,” said the bishop. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m here to be interviewed to be ordained a teacher,” Kevin said.
“Oh, yes. Of course. Let me ask you a question. Do you know where we find the duties of the office of a teacher?” Bishop Stone asked.
“I don’t know. In the teachers’ manual, I guess.”
The bishop smiled and opened his scriptures and handed them to Kevin. “Read Doctrine and Covenants 20:53–54 [D&C 20:53–54], please.”
Kevin began to read. “The teacher’s duty is to watch over the church always and be with them and strengthen them; And see that there is no iniquity in the church, neither hardness with each other, neither lying, backbiting, nor evil speaking.”
“You can stop there,” Bishop Stone said. “That seems like a tough job to me. How are you going to do it?”
Kevin sighed. “Well, I know that teachers go home teaching.”
“That’s true; they do. Good answer. That does help us to watch over the Church, and be with them and strengthen them. But let me ask you another question. As a teacher, how are you going to see ‘that there is no iniquity in the church, neither hardness with each other, neither lying, backbiting, nor evil speaking’?”
Kevin was stumped. “I don’t know.”
The bishop smiled. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know either. But we both need to find out. I’d appreciate it if you’d think about it this week and then come back next Sunday and give me some of your ideas.”
On the way home, Kevin’s mother asked him how the interview had gone.
“I can’t believe it. I have to go back next week.”
His 12-year-old sister, Emily, picked up on that. “I’m not surprised,” she said.
Kevin rolled his eyes.
“Would you like to talk to your mother and me in private?” asked his dad.
“I didn’t do anything wrong. The bishop just asked me to come up with a plan about how I was going to see that there’s no backbiting or evil speaking in our ward.”
Just before they ate, Kevin’s friend Todd called to tell him about the teachers quorum activity for the week.
“I’m not a teacher yet,” said Kevin.
“No, but you will be, right?”
“I have to go back and see the bishop next week.”
There was a long pause and then Todd said, “Oh.” Todd made a quick excuse that he had to eat and hung up.
Kevin wasn’t very hungry, but he ate a little and excused himself and went to his room. A few minutes later his dad knocked on his door and asked if he could come in. He pulled a chair up to Kevin’s bed and said, “Kevin, I don’t think the bishop is down on you. I think he is just asking for your help.”
“I don’t see how I can help him,” Kevin said.
“Well, the Lord did give teachers in the Aaronic Priesthood the responsibility to see that there’s no backbiting or evil speaking. Maybe the bishop is just honoring the responsibility you have as a teacher. We have a good ward, but we’re not perfect. There is some backbiting. Not much, but some. Why not honor the bishop’s request and see what ideas you can come up with?”
Kevin reluctantly agreed to do what he could.
At first he couldn’t think of anything, but then things started to change. On Monday after family home evening, he swallowed his pride and went to Emily. “Do you ever see any backbiting or evil speaking in our ward?”
“Sometimes.”
“What causes it?”
“Not every girl comes from a family with enough money for expensive clothes. That can cause people to talk.”
“I don’t see how I can stop that,” said Kevin.
“I try to stop it,” Emily said. “Whenever anyone starts saying bad things about a girl, I try to say good things. You could do that too.”
“That’s not going to stop it.”
“It will if more people look for the positive instead of the negative.”
Kevin felt a twinge of conscience. One of the boys in the deacons quorum was Justin Evanston. Everyone else in the quorum liked sports and camping, except Justin. The boys sometimes made fun of Justin, especially when he tried to play basketball. He was uncoordinated and awkward. Kevin himself had made fun of Justin. He felt bad about it now.
At school on Monday, Kevin saw Jon Dunford in the halls. Jon lived in their ward but didn’t come anymore. He’d gotten into drugs in the seventh grade and a few months later was arrested. He spent six months in a juvenile correction facility and then came back to live at home. Kevin had seen him the first day after he got back. “I’m going to start back to church,” Jon had said.
“Right,” Kevin had replied sarcastically.
Jon came to church once but never returned. Eventually he went back to his old friends. Kevin figured it was only a matter of time before Jon would be put away again.
Kevin decided to talk to Jon.
“Jon, that time you came to church after you first got back, what was it like for you?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“I just want to know.”
“Okay. I’ll tell you,” said Jon, an edge in his voice. “A lot of cold stares, a lot of whispering behind my back, and nobody my age talking to me. A lot of the adults said they were glad I was back, but nobody my age did. Not even you.”
Kevin swallowed hard. “Sorry.”
“When I first came back, I really wanted to change my life,” he sighed. “But it’s too late for that now.”
“Give us another chance,” said Kevin. “Come to church with me next time. I’ll do better.”
Jon looked at Kevin for a long time. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
“Maybe sometime,” Jon said, starting to walk away.
“What about tomorrow night? We’re going to a TV studio to see how they do the news.”
Jon pursed his lips. “That doesn’t sound too bad. Maybe I’ll go.”
The next day before school Kevin found Jon in the parking lot behind the school with the guys he partied with. “Is tonight still okay?”
Jon smiled. “I’ve never seen you out here before.”
“What about tonight? We could pick you up a little before seven.”
“That’d be okay.”
When they stopped by later that night, Jon wasn’t home, but Kevin wasn’t discouraged. He’d just have to keep asking until Jon gave in and went with him.
The next Sunday after church, Kevin waited to see the bishop. He no longer felt bad that the bishop had asked him to come back; in fact he was glad. This time, when the bishop asked him what a teacher could do to see that there was no backbiting or evil speaking, Kevin had some things to say.
He could hardly wait to see the bishop.

Whenever my mother and father planned a vacation, they always took our family to the temple. We lived in Oregon, USA. The nearest temple was 600 miles (965 km) away in Cardston, Alberta, Canada. Our car didn’t have an air conditioner. My brother and sister and I sat in the back seat. We would hang a wet washcloth outside the car window. Then we put it on our necks to cool off.
It was a thrill when we finally saw the temple. I didn’t know very much about what happened there, but my parents were always happy when they came out. I knew the temple was very important. I knew it was the Lord’s house. (In the photo, that’s me in the white shirt.)

I hadn’t been reading the scriptures until my Young Women president suggested that I work on Personal Progress. It asked me to read the scriptures every day for some weeks. After doing this, I never stopped reading them. My best advice is that you ought to work on your Personal Progress or Duty to God. Challenge yourself to read the scriptures more and more, and you will see a change within yourself. I tell you this without a doubt—you will see that you have a stronger testimony.
Paola S., age 16, Cortés, Honduras

I was one of the 13. My dad was not ready for baptism at this time. The missionaries were still teaching him because he was not ready to let go of his family’s traditions. He was born a Baptist and he said he’d die a Baptist. Our mother said, “I’m going to wait for your dad.” So, she was not baptized with her children.

Well, my dad, died at the age of 98. He was buried fully clothed in the garment of the holy priesthood and his sacred temple clothing. He was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, May 31, 1979. He promised my mother he would marry her in the Temple. They were married and sealed in the Mesa Arizona Temple June 7, 1983.

My dad struggled with accepting the Book of Mormon because he had been taught all his life, that the Bible was the only true word of God.

As he continued to read the Book of Mormon for himself, through the power of the Holy Ghost, he came to know the Book of Mormon as another testament of Jesus Christ.

Because my dad continued to pray and study the Book of Mormon, the power of God strengthened him to overcome his family traditions and other personal challenges that held him bound from accepting the restored gospel.

Building anything in Alaska in the winter can prove quite a challenge, and constructing a temple is no exception. When work on the Anchorage Temple had to be delayed because of the weather, the youth in the area decided to give themselves a preview of what having a temple in their city would be like.
So they built a scale replica of the temple out of snow bricks, complete with an Angel Moroni statue on top. With a little help from the temple’s architect, who gave a youth fireside prior to the project, they came up with a pretty good likeness. The snow replica is about one-fifth the size of the real thing, which the youth can hardly wait to see.

The Book of Mormon was a means of introducing Wannipha Thongchalerm, to the Church. First introduced to Christianity by a United States serviceman, she received a copy of the Book of Mormon from a friend. The book led to visits by the full-time missionaries. “Learning the gospel was a happy experience for me,” she says. “The missionaries would visit me every other day, and I would make notes of what they told me. Each time they came, I would repeat the previous lesson back to them. I was baptized in 1976.”
Sister Thongchalerm married a nonmember whose work required him to travel a great deal. After five years of marriage, they were divorced. Prior to the divorce, Sister Thongchalerm began studying to be a nurse, a profession she still follows at one of the local hospitals. Three years after her divorce, she married Anan, who had been baptized in 1981. With their two children, Ariza, 4, and Aachanoon, 3, they were among the group that went to the Manila Temple.
“When I came back from the temple, I felt a greater need to share the gospel with others. I decided I would try to bring at least ten other people into the Church, a goal I reached within two years.”
Sister Thongchalerm, who teaches in seminary, Sunday School, and Relief Society, treasures her testimony. “I feel that no matter what happens, no one can take away my testimony of Jesus Christ.”
The Thongchalerms live in a multilevel house in Udorn—a house Brother Thongchalerm will completely finish “some day.”

Let me share just one brief account of an unintended and unfortunate example that had a significantly negative impact. Just a few years before President Wheelwright became president of the England London Mission, I had some responsibility for all of the missions in that part of the world. A serious concern was raised with me and I had to investigate the situation.

In a neighborhood in the central part of the city there was a little shop near one of the main train stations. Every day people would stop to make small purchases of various sorts and among the somewhat regular customers was a companionship of our missionaries who lived nearby and often bought a candy bar or other treat as they went back and forth in their missionary activities.

A young woman in her late teens who worked in the shop had been befriended by an exemplary older woman who was an active Latter-day Saint. Apparently this good sister let the young woman know that she was LDS, but did not try to push her with respect to our teachings. Nevertheless, the young clerk was impressed and became determined to find out something more about the Church and perhaps why this older woman had been so kind to her. One day while the missionaries were in the shop, this young woman realized that they were from the same church. Not wanting to ask what might be embarrassing questions in a store loaded with customers, she arranged to take a break from her duties and followed the elders out on to the street where she might speak with them in some privacy.

As the elders left the shop, she quickly took off her working smock and then ran from the store to catch up with the missionaries. They, of course, were oblivious to what was happening and made their way along the street. This is where the story becomes both more interesting and, frankly, disheartening.

Immediately in front of the missionaries was another young woman who was walking in the same direction as they were and was very provocatively and immodestly dressed. Of course the missionaries had no responsibility for that or control over their immediate environment, but they did have complete agency with respect to their response. As the young lady from the shop almost caught up with them to ask her questions about the Church, she overheard the elders commenting on the inappropriate woman in front of them in the most uncomplimentary and even vulgar terms with laughs of derision and conduct certainly inconsistent with servants of the Lord.

The young woman from the store immediately backed away in great disappointment and returned to her work without asking her questions. This experience was very troubling to her and when her older, LDS friend was again in the shop, she related the experience. This good sister then shared her concerns with her priesthood leaders and you now understand how it was that I got involved.

The details following this event are not germane to my point except to emphasize that these missionaries had no idea that they were being watched and were dismayed that they had been such an effective example of negative missionary work. I mention this account to you because, whether we like it or not, virtually all members of this campus community are well-known as representatives of Brigham Young University-Hawaii and its sponsoring Church all across this island and beyond. All of us need to understand that we are always "on stage," not just when we are trying to create a good impression.

A group of young members of the Church with recommends were going to the Salt Lake Temple to be baptized for the dead. One of them was hesitant because she felt that she didn’t really understand what temples were about. Her teacher said, “If you don’t feel that you’re ready for this experience, maybe you’d be willing to help a young lady in a wheelchair. Would you go with her, help her dress, help her into the font, and take care of her?” The girl said that she would.
In helping the young lady in the wheelchair, whom she hadn’t even known before, this girl became close to the Spirit of the Lord. She was so touched that she asked for the privilege of doing baptisms herself.

For the fifth year, the Adventurers of the Cleveland Ohio Stake hit the Appalachian Trail for the backpacking adventure.
Preparations were intense as the girls planned the most creative menus that would fit in backpacks. Fettuccine Alfredo won raves while the mountain mush was voted the meal most likely to be skipped.
The Adventurers started on the South Mountain section of the Appalachian Trail in Maryland. They were soon into lush, green forest that was a relief from the heat. For the next three days, the girls with their Young Women and priesthood leaders marched 22 miles, carrying their own water supply most of the way. Along the hike were areas that became well known during the Civil War. At the completion of their hike, they visited Harpers Ferry, a town well known in American history.
On their way home, Wanda Bublik, stake camp director, said, “We learned that just as we had a destination and followed a plan each day to reach our chosen campsite, we must also have a plan and destination in mind in our daily lives if we are to reach our chosen glory.”

Anela (14), Chiyo (11), and Daniel (10) from the Philippines have a brother, Bien (12), who has cerebral palsy. They see him as a unique person with his own strengths. They wish others would get to know Bien the way they do.

“Where we live, there’s a steep hill that my siblings and I call a ‘mountain,’” Anela says. “We enjoy riding our bikes up the hill and racing back down. Bien has a hard time going up, so we help him. Sometimes people stare at him. It bothers me when that happens. But Bien doesn’t seem to mind. He smiles and waves at them as we pass by.

“I wish people would know when they see Bien that he’s friendly and enjoys being around other people. He’s shy at first, but he’s a lot of fun once he feels comfortable. He can’t do what able-bodied people can do, but he loves to learn. I’ve learned from Bien that we shouldn’t worry so much about what everyone else thinks about us, and we should treat everyone with kindness.”

“Sometimes it’s hard to be patient with David, especially when he won’t listen,” Lucy says. “Sometimes he can’t help it, so I don’t want to get too mad at him, but I also want to make sure he learns and understands. It’s important to find balance. It helps me know how to help my brother.”

Chiyo has found that patience helps Bien learn. “I help teach my brother the alphabet, colors, numbers, and animals,” Chiyo says. “Sometimes he has a hard time identifying animals. I keep working with him, and after a while, I noticed he’s improved. I’ll name an animal, he’ll point to a photo, and he gets some of them right! Bien’s example teaches me that it takes time to learn new things and it can be hard, but if you have patience and keep practicing, you will eventually get it right.”

“I love that my family thinks about my brother before we do an activity so he can have a good time too,” Anela says. “We also include Bien in helping around the house,” Chiyo says. “He can fold some of his clothes and sweep the floor.”

Lucy has also seen how teachers and friends at church make David feel welcome. “It’s nice to see people try and learn about David’s interests,” Lucy says. “Right now, he really loves Star Wars, so ward members will ask him about it. They know it’s something he’ll be willing to talk about. One of his teachers tries to incorporate what David likes into the lessons in some way. This helps him pay more attention in class.”

Someone may look different, act different, or have different abilities, but we all belong. There are many ways to help everyone feel included and important. The more we strive to do so, the more we will all learn and grow.

We all belong.
Christ and the Palsied Man, by J. Kirk Richards

I noted that we also bear our testimonies by our lives. In World War II I was stationed at an army camp in Pennsylvania. We lived in a little ward in which our stake patriarch also lived. His name was William G. Stoops. Brother Stoops worked at a machine shop in the little town of Waynesboro, Pennsylvania. Everyone called him “Pappy.” He was a kindly, gentle, wonderful, exemplary member of the Church. All who met him honored and admired him. One time a nonmember with whom he worked said something like this: “I don’t know much about the Mormon church. I have never met with the missionaries, and I have never studied the doctrine. I have never been to one of their services, but I know Pappy Stoops; and if the Church produces men like Pappy Stoops, it has to have much good in it.” We never know the power of our own example for either good or bad.

When Jack tripped over his feet, he didn’t worry.
When he dropped his pencil, he didn’t worry.
But when he fell off his bunk bed, he worried. That hurt! Why was he being so clumsy?
Mom took Jack to the doctor.
“Walk down the hall while I watch,” said the doctor. Jack thought it would be easy, but he fell down. A few days later, he couldn’t use his arms very well either. The doctor discovered that Jack had a virus that made his arms and legs stop working. He would need to stay at the hospital for a while. Jack was nervous about staying overnight—especially since visitors weren’t allowed to stay.
“Would you like a blessing?” asked Dad.
Jack nodded. Dad laid his hands on Jack’s head and blessed him to get better. Jack felt peaceful during the blessing, but he still didn’t want to stay in the hospital. He wanted to sleep in the bedroom that he shared with his brother.
“Sorry, honey. The hospital says we can’t stay,” Mom said. “But we’ll be back tomorrow morning.”
Jack couldn’t get out of bed by himself. He couldn’t get a drink. He couldn’t go to the bathroom. There was no one here he knew. Jack felt scared.
After a few days, Jack got to know the nurses and doctors, so he wasn’t as afraid. But he was bored.
A few weeks later, Jack’s arms got stronger. He could push himself around in a wheelchair, so he wasn’t as bored. But he was lonely. His parents came to visit every day, and sometimes his brothers and sister pushed him around in his wheelchair too. But Jack’s family couldn’t always be with him. They lived a long way from the hospital. His dad had to work. His brothers and sister went to school. Jack wished he didn’t feel so alone.
One day a nurse smiled and said, “You have a visitor.”
In walked Jack’s bishop! “Hello, Jack! How are you doing today?”Jack grinned. He felt happy that the bishop knew his name.
“I brought you a present,” the bishop said. He gave Jack a toy and some candy.
“Thank you,” Jack said. At first he didn’t know what else to say. But soon he was telling the bishop about how he had tried to do tricks in his wheelchair. He had tipped over and couldn’t get up until a nurse came to help him. Jack didn’t try tricks in his wheelchair anymore! He also told the bishop about the books he’d read, his favorite hospital foods, and the schoolwork he’d done. Jack was grateful for someone to talk to.
When the bishop stood to leave, he said, “We miss you at church. Get well soon.”
The ward members had noticed Jack was gone, and they cared about him. Knowing that made Jack smile even after the bishop had left.
After six weeks, Jack pushed his wheelchair down the long hallway to the hospital’s front doors. He got in the car and rode home.
After a few more weeks, Jack climbed the ladder to the bunk bed all by himself. He did not slip. He fell asleep to the sound of his brother breathing quietly below.
A few weeks later, Jack made a card with the bishop’s name on it. He did not drop the pencil. He poured some candy inside the envelope and sealed it.
Jack was grateful for priesthood blessings. He was thankful for legs that could walk, arms that could climb, and hands that could write. And he was grateful for a bishop who let him know he was not alone.