Gospel Story Finder

Grandma was a naturally happy person. She was positive in her outlook and very social in her love for other people. Yet as a young mother she knew deep sorrow. Tragedy struck twice–first with the death of little, Hawaiian-born Barbara, their firstborn child, and then later with the untimely death of another little daughter, Helen Margaret. Grandma tells in intermittent journal entries a few details about the circumstances and her feelings about the deaths of these two little girls. She says about 6-year-old Barbara:

“Oh, the whole thing is such a horrible nightmare. On January 30 Mother stayed out here and [Barbara] was very sick, so the next morning we took her in, intending to go right to the hospital, but [the doctor] advised us not to so we stayed at Mother’s. . . The next day we went to the doctor and . . . he was very reassuring. . . . She seemed so much improved. However after dinner she began going delirious and by 5 o’clock was right out of her head. The last word she ever said was “That’s all.” When I think of that night I turn cold, for dear little Babs nearly died. . . she was taken to the hospital immediately. . . five nights I spent at the hospital. She never regained consciousness and it was pitiful to watch her. Tuesday she nearly died again, but rallied. They got meningitis serum in her and she seemed better. . . . It first helped but Saturday she became worse, and Saturday night she was gone. When she was gone there was no hope, but before I had never given up hope. I just felt at first like I couldn’t stand to live without her, but when I saw Ed (her husband and my grandpa) and the boys I knew I would have to live for them.

“It is now nearly two months after and oh, my heart just aches. I sometimes think I am unequal to the task of going on without her. I am sure I couldn’t have stood it if Ed and the kiddies and everyone hadn’t been so nice. Oh, but I loved Babs and miss her so. Little would anyone dream from the outside appearances just how lonesome I am for my darling.” (Journal of Alma Eliza Cannon Winder, in family’s possession).

When I read this journal, my heart also aches. But I feel Grandma’s great inner strength as she carries on and continues to care for her other family members in the midst of her sorrow. Giving that needed service was actually crucial in helping her cope with her sadness.

Timmy was so excited! Today was his first day in school. His teacher, Mr. Griffin, showed everyone the classroom and then they went outside. Mr. Griffin told the children that the small playground outside their classroom was just for them. The bigger playground on the other side of the school yard was for the older children.
Mr. Griffin asked Timmy’s class to stay on the small playground. If they didn’t, they might not hear or see Mr. Griffin calling them to return to class. After everyone promised to stay in the small playground, they went to play.
Timmy met lots of children in his class. He played on the slides and swings and then found a ball to play with. He kicked the ball as far as he could. He laughed and chased it. He didn’t notice that each time he kicked the ball, he got closer to the older children’s playground.
After a while, Timmy wanted to ask his new friends to kick the ball with him. But when he looked up, all the children around him were bigger than he was! Timmy looked back and saw that the small playground on the other side of the school yard was empty. His class must have gone back inside already! He ran back as fast as he could.
He went to the door and tried to open it. It was locked. Timmy was scared. He decided to pray. He closed his eyes, bowed his head, and said, “Heavenly Father, I’m scared out here all by myself. Please help me find a way back to my classroom. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
After his prayer, Timmy’s fear was gone. He felt calm. He tried the door again, and the handle turned. The door opened, and there was Mr. Griffin, looking for him.
Timmy was very happy to get back to his classroom. He was even happier to know that Heavenly Father loved him enough to calm his fears and answer his prayer. Timmy knew the peace that filled his heart while he was alone on the playground was Heavenly Father’s love. He said a silent prayer, thanking Heavenly Father for helping him. After that day, Timmy stayed on his playground and remembered to pray when he needed help.

When I arrived on Sunday morning, I was well received by the members. I was impressed with the organization of the Church. I felt peace and joy in my heart during the meetings, and I asked the missionaries to come to my house to teach me. I returned home and told my mother that I had found the right religion.
The missionaries taught me about the Restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ. I already knew the story of Joseph Smith, so when they invited me to pray to learn the truth, I told them I had already received an answer and told them about my experience. They were impressed with my testimony and suggested a date, May 15, 2004, for my baptism. In the meantime, my friend Julyette was also baptized. My baptism was the greatest joy of my life, and my friend and I are very happy we found the true Church of Jesus Christ.

Ross Anslow said glowingly to his wife, “Ann, our three sons will make fine farmers. I’ll buy more land for Sam and Joey. And when Bob is old enough, he’ll have his share too.”
Sam and Bob smiled happily, but Joey said quickly, “No thanks, Dad, none for me. I’m going to be an ice skater.”
Bob snickered. “A skater!” he hooted. “You don’t even have a pair of skates!”
Sam laughed too. “What’s wrong with you, Joey? Why would you want to spend your time twirling around on the ice like a top, when Dad’ll buy you land to work?”
Joey answered his brother, “I don’t want land to work. I want to skate on the ice in a fancy costume and have crowds cheering for me.”
“Just because you went with your school to see an ice show,” his dad said irritably, “doesn’t mean that you’re going to make a career of ice-skating. You’ll get over it.”
Joey’s mom wasn’t so sure their son would get over it.
“Joey is different,” she cautioned her husband later that evening when the boys had gone to bed. “It could be that farming isn’t for him.”
“Certainly he’ll be a farmer,” Joey’s dad continued stubbornly, “after he gets this silly notion out of his head. I’ll let him grow a calf for the boy’s club. Then maybe he’ll show more interest in farming.”
That night Joey dreamed that the sun was hidden by a heavy mist and that he was running through it. Always ahead of him, just out of reach, moved a pair of glistening silver skates.
Joey thought about his odd dream all the next day. Will it always be like this for me? he wondered. Will I never get a chance to wear those silver skates?
When his dad told him he could have Nellie’s calf, Joey was pleased. He supposed it would be interesting to watch it grow, but he didn’t dance for joy like his brothers would have.
Joey began to daydream about the skates gleaming in the fog—leaping, twisting, bounding along just out of reach. He next imagined that he was clad in a sparkling costume and white boots with shimmering silver blades attached to them. Joey signed. Maybe it was best to forget his dream.
One cold winter morning Joey’s mother asked him to take a loaf of freshly baked bread to some new neighbors. To his delight Joey found that they had a girl his own age. She had sparkling brown eyes and dark hair. Her name was Sabrina.
Sabrina’s parents were pleased to find that they had friendly neighbors, and asked Joey to stay for lunch. When they were through, Joey and Sabrina talked about sports, and Joey found himself telling her about his longing to become a professional ice skater someday. Then with a rueful smile he admitted, “I don’t own any skates. I’ve never even had any on. But I always dream about skating.”
Sabrina’s eyes sparkled. “I’ve something to show you,” she said, disappearing into another room. When she returned, Sabrina was holding up a pair of shining silver skates exactly like those in Joey’s dream!
“They’re my dad’s,” Sabrina explained. “He used to be a professional skater. He’s Don Carber—have you ever heard of him?”
Joey was excited. “Wow! He’s your dad? I’ve read about him!”
Sabrina nodded. “Would you like to see his scrap-books?”
“Would I!” was all Joey could manage to reply.
While they were going through the books, Joey imagined that he was Don Carber—leaping, spinning, and waving to the enthusiastic crowds.
Before Joey left, he told Sabrina, “I’m going to wear silver skates, too, someday. I want to be like your dad was—a star on ice.”
Sabrina smiled. “I know you’ll be a star, Joey, and I’ll help you.”
That night Joey summoned up the courage to ask his dad for a pair of skates.
Joey’s dad was unbending. “You’ll have to forget this nonsense, Joey,” he said. “No son of mine is going to waste his life scooting about on the ice.”
Joey persisted. “If I keep up with my chores and schoolwork, then earn the money for skates, may I sweep the snow off the pond out in the pasture and try to skate on it?”
His dad was going to say no at first, but then he thought that Joey might come to his senses and forget about ice-skating after a few falls on the ice. So he replied, “Go ahead, Son, but remember—chores and schoolwork first.”
“Yes, Dad.”
“Don’t expect me to pay for lessons either; you do this on your own.”
The boy nodded. He decided not to mention that he was being encouraged by Sabrina and her father.
Joey worried about a job to earn the money for skates. If it had been summer, he’d have had longer evenings. But now the days were so short that by the time he finished his chores, he didn’t have time for a lengthy job. Joey asked his neighbors about a job, but any available work either took too long or was too heavy for him.
Then Joey remembered that he hadn’t asked Bill Jones about a job.
Luckily for Joey, Mr. Jones said that he could use some help during the evenings. And when Joey had earned enough money, Mr. Carber offered to help him choose the right skates to learn on.
His brothers teased Joey when they saw him with his skates. “We’ll likely be watching you on TV tomorrow,” they joked.
Joey smiled and answered good-naturedly, “Not tomorrow, but maybe someday.”
Dad remarked, “I could understand getting excited about playing hockey or skiing—but figure skating!”
Mom smiled and said, “They’re lovely skates, Joey.”
At first Joey was awkward, and he fell a lot. But whenever he became discouraged, Sabrina was usually there, skating with him and encouraging him.
Mr. Carber sometimes came to watch and to coach. He was amazed at how quickly Joey learned. Figure-skating movements seemed to come to the boy naturally.
With a broom and shovel kept close by to clear the ice of snow, Joey spent every available moment on the pond. Early mornings and late afternoons he practiced the motions suggested by Mr. Carber. Joey’s family took neither the time nor the interest to watch him.
Once, when she saw him hurrying out of the house with his skates slung over his back. Mom called to him, “Don’t try to learn everything in one season. You have years ahead of you.”
Joey answered, “No, Mom, I haven’t. I was late starting.”
His mom sighed. With Dad against the boy’s skating, and his brothers always teasing, things weren’t easy for Joey.
One Saturday afternoon Joey was busy sweeping the pond when he saw the tall figure of Don Carber striding between the snow-laden cedars. Mr. Carber took the broom from Joey and said, “You won’t be needing this today. You’re going to have a chance to try some better ice. I have business in town, so if it’s all right with your folks, I’ll drop you and Sabrina off at the rink for the afternoon.”
Joey felt so happy he nearly shouted for joy as he ran home. Rink ice for the first time!
When Mr. Carber finished his business, he went back to the rink to watch the children going through the movements he had taught them on the pond. He thought Sabrina was good, but Joey had a special talent. If only his parents could see him skating …
The remainder of the winter Don Carber took Joey and Sabrina to the rink often. Sometimes he skated with them, and Joey eagerly copied his movements.
In the spring a notice was posted in town announcing that an amateur skating contest would be held.
Before the contest Don Carber went to the Anslow farm to talk with Joey’s parents. He invited them to come and watch the competition.
Joey’s dad sputtered, “Really couldn’t. Chores, you know. Lambing time. Then there’s—”
His wife interrupted. “We’ll be there, Mr. Carber,” she stated firmly.
“Good!” Don Carber said happily. “And let’s surprise him.”
But it was Joey’s family who were surprised. When Sam and Bob saw their brother swoop down the ice, they were truly astonished.
Even before Joey won a prize, everyone at the rink knew that his sharp routine was the best one seen during the competition.
As the crowd cheered, Ross Anslow smiled proudly at his son.

At first glance, it looks like a rainbow is running wild. It’s twisting and turning and flowing all over a lush green hillside, in seemingly random motion.
But take a closer look, and you’ll see that the rainbow is made up of hundreds of girls in brightly colored T-shirts. They’ve come to this campground near Richmond, Virginia, for a three-day mother-daughter gathering, and each stake has been assigned certain colored T-shirts that correspond with each of the Young Women values.
The motion of the rainbow is actually being orchestrated by a small airplane flying overhead. It’s strafing the girls with packets of candy, and they follow its erratic flight over the hillside in hopes of catching extra sweets for their mothers and friends.
The theme of the encampment is “A More Excellent Way,” and all the activities, meetings, and programs focus on how living the Young Women values can help make lives better.
Included are songs, dances, talks, cheers, and even a rap by “Run LDS” that stresses the Young Women values.
But nowhere are those values more apparent than in the lives of the girls themselves. They are the values personified, each adding her own unique color to the rainbow that could only be formed when nearly 1,000 LDS women collect in one place.
Most doctors would be stunned to see Maria Turman at the encampment. As a matter of fact, they would be surprised to see her alive and smiling at all. Just a few short weeks ago, they were sure she was dying of brain cancer.
“I could barely stand the thought of what she would have to endure through whatever time she had left,” said her mother. “So we went home and called everyone we knew and asked them to pray for her. People of every faith joined us in prayer, and her name was in many of the temples.”
People fasted for her. People prayed for her. And they supported her in other ways too—like those who stood by her in the hospital, and the friend who told her that if she had to shave off her beautiful hair, he would shave his head too and, who knows, maybe they’d start a fad.
After a grueling two weeks of treatment and testing, her doctor came to her in total shock. “There’s been a miracle,” he said. “This girl does not have brain cancer. She does have another disease, but it is not fatal.”
Through all this Maria and everyone involved developed an incredible amount of faith—faith in the power of prayer, faith in the power of the priesthood from which blessings came that said she would be restored, and faith in the power and love of Heavenly Father.
Maria adds a sparkling, pure white to the rainbow.
Things don’t always go perfectly for everyone. All prayers aren’t always answered in the way we expect. Such was the case for one Laurel who would have given anything to have her non-LDS mother at the encampment with her.
“I prayed all summer long that my mom would share this weekend with me,” she said. “She didn’t. I cried, and I felt pretty down. I saw all the love between the mothers and daughters here, and I wished I could have that too. I have a friend here who was in the same position, so we decided to kneel down, just the two of us, and pray.
“I’ve never felt the Spirit so strong in all my life,” she continued. “I knew that Heavenly Father was right there with me. I knew that I’m his daughter and that I’m loved by him.”
Her mother did not attend the encampment with her, but she was able to learn about the love of another Parent. Knowing of that love and of her own divine nature will sustain her through trials for the rest of her life, and enables her to add a magnificent blue to the rainbow.
The women in the Perkins family were sorely missed back home. Their men were sitting silent in their plantation house at the end of a long, dirt road. The family plays bluegrass music together, but Susan, who plays the piano and upright bass, wasn’t around.
Lynda, the mother, who had never been separated from her husband except to give birth to a child, wasn’t there either. And Stacey, who adds the smile and sparkle, was also absent.
With the fuss the men put up about their leaving, there was no doubt in the women’s minds about their individual worth.
But they knew they needed to learn more about their lives as daughters of a Heavenly Father who loves them.
So off they went to the encampment, where they add their vibrant red to the rainbow.
Knowledge made the difference in Denver Mendiola’s life—knowledge of the English language, which she learned only two years ago, and, most important, knowledge of the truthfulness of the gospel.
Twelve-year-old Denver has not had an easy life. She was born in the Philippines, and her family was introduced to the gospel by missionaries tracting there. When Denver was ten, her mother was shot and killed, and her family divided. Denver came to the U.S. to live with her sister.
But Denver is not bitter. In fact, she was one of the happiest, most energetic girls at the encampment. Even when a minor accident caused her to need stitches, she was smiling and had a ready laugh. She’ll tell you it was because the doctor who sewed her up was gorgeous, but her positive attitude goes deeper than that. “I know that I’ll see my mother again, and that makes me happy,” she says. “I love being Mormon, and I know that the Church is true.”
That knowledge gives Denver a merry green to add to the rainbow.
It’s a critical time for Leah Guzman. The decisions she’s making now will affect her forever.
For most of her life, Leah attended her father’s church. But recently, since her parents split up, she’s been going to church with her mother at the Virginia Beach Third Ward. Although she’d attended LDS meetings when she was younger, it’s still a bit new to her, and she’s in the middle of deciding just how important the Church will be in her life.
The decision to come to the encampment was a big one for her, and she’s happy she made it. “I’m glad I came,” Leah said. “At the other church they had carnivals once a year and a church fair, but nothing like this, where you really get to know each other and learn things. I’ve decided to start coming to this church all the time. It’s different and I like it.”
Leah has many other important decisions ahead, but the one she’s already made adds a beautiful, bright orange to the rainbow.
Shanon Graber of Virginia Beach is the type of person who dives right into things with energy and enthusiasm. That’s why she was so successful with the fund-raising projects the youth in her ward sponsored all year long.
They did pizza sales and Valentine cookie sales and doughnut sales and garage sales. The girls in the ward needed money for girls’ camp and youth conference, as well as the mother-daughter encampment, and it was taking an awful lot of work.
But Shanon shined. She put her shoulder and her heart to it and ended up making more than enough to cover her expenses. So what did she do with the excess? “Sister Murdock?” she asked her adviser, “do any of the other girls need any help?” Shanon, a Mia Maid, ended up donating enough money for two more girls to come to the encampment.
Those good works help her add a brilliant yellow to the rainbow.
“It was the first time I’d performed in public in four years,” said Gretchen Williams, from Newport News, when talking about her performance the night before in the opening program. She danced a ballet solo while a friend sang a song. What most people didn’t know is the she’d given up her beloved ballet several years earlier because she was afflicted by painful arthritis.
When Gretchen arrived at the encampment, she discovered that the stage would be much smaller and shaped differently than the one she’d rehearsed on. It would have been easy to back out, using her physical pain or the unfamiliar stage as an excuse. After all, under the given circumstances, there was no way she could perform her best, and hundreds of people would be watching. But Gretchen wouldn’t think of pulling out.
She realized, as the program she performed in said, “Integrity is doing what you know you should do, even it it’s inconvenient or difficult.”
And with that she adds a deep, rich purple to the rainbow.
Each girl at the encampment contributed her own, unique shade, and the mothers helped mix them together. “This is so good for our girls—being able to come here and share with so many other people who have the same morals and standards as they do,” said Linda Floyd of Waynesborough. “We’re all just walking around about two feet off the ground.”
Nothing could dampen their spirits, not even the warm Virginia rains that came and ended the encampment a day early. The rainbow colors ran a bit, but only to become beautifully blended.
People worked together to make sure that everyone left dry and happy.
“It’s programs like these that make mother-daughter relationships that last for eternity,” said Tara Romney, from Newport News.
The commitments, the decisions, and the loving relationships that were made and cultivated that weekend certainly do have eternal significance. They create a brilliant, beautiful rainbow that will span from this life into the next.

Hsieh’s road to that goal was long and arduous. He attended a Catholic seminary in Wuhan for four years. Then he studied at a Catholic university in the capital city of Beijing [Peking]. A year later, the communists took over the city, and Hsieh escaped to Shanghai, where he attended the Aurora Jesuit University. When the communist forces invaded Shanghai, he moved to the Catholic seminary in Hong Kong. Then, because of the political situation, the seminary was transferred to Macao. While there, Hsieh was ordained a priest in the Catholic church.
Following his ordination, he was assigned to Rome, Italy, where he studied Italian, Latin, and law for four years. Next he moved to Paris, France, where he studied French, Greek, Hebrew, English, Spanish, and German so that he could better understand the original texts and the various translations of the Bible. He wanted to learn all he could about the Savior.
Finally, in 1967, Hsieh’s original desire to teach his people about Jesus Christ became a reality. Cardinal Yu Ping, president of Fu Jen Catholic University in Taipei, invited him to become a member of the faculty as a professor of philosophy and French. In this assignment, Hsieh began to share his growing testimony of Jesus Christ.

Having lived legally on the East Coast of the United States for a few years, I was acquainted with some of the cities, and they were mostly small.
When I read or heard about the events leading up to the First Vision, crowds of people were mentioned, which did not make sense to me.
Questions began to arise in my mind. Why did the Church have to be restored in the United States and not in Brazil or Italy, the land of my ancestors?
Where were those crowds of people who were involved in the revivals and in the confusion of religions—all of which had happened in such a peaceful and calm place?
I asked a lot of people about it but got no answer. I read everything I could in Portuguese and then in English but found nothing that could calm my heart. I continued to search.
In October 1984, I attended general conference as a counselor in a stake presidency. After, I went to Palmyra, New York, eager to find the answer.
Arriving there, I tried to understand: Why did the Restoration have to be here, and why such a spiritual uproar? Where did all the people mentioned in Joseph’s account come from? Why there?
At that time, the most reasonable answer to me was because the U.S. Constitution guaranteed freedom.
That morning I visited the Grandin Building, where the first edition of the Book of Mormon was printed. I went to the Sacred Grove, where I prayed a lot.
There was hardly anyone on the streets in that small town of Palmyra. Where were the crowds of people that Joseph had mentioned?
That afternoon I decided to go to the Peter Whitmer farm, and when I got there, I found a man at the window of a cabin. He had an intense glow in his eyes. I greeted him and then began to ask those same questions.
He then asked me, “Do you have time?” I said yes.
He explained that Lakes Erie and Ontario and, farther east, the Hudson River are located in that region.
In the early 1800s they decided to build a canal for navigation which would pass through that region, stretching more than 300 miles (480 km) to reach the Hudson River. It was a great enterprise for that time, and they could rely only on human labor and animal power.
Palmyra was a center for some of that construction. Builders needed skilled people, technicians, families, and their friends. Many people began to pour in from the neighboring towns and places farther away, such as Ireland, to work on the canal.
That was such a sacred and spiritual moment because I had finally found the crowd. They brought their customs and their beliefs. When the man mentioned their beliefs, my mind was enlightened and my spiritual eyes were opened by God.
At that moment, I understood how the hand of God our Father, in His immense wisdom, had prepared in His plan a place to bring the young Joseph Smith, putting him in the midst of that religious confusion, because there, in the Hill Cumorah, the precious plates of the Book of Mormon were hidden.
When leaving the Whitmer farm, I do not remember saying good-bye. I just remember tears running freely down my face. The sun was setting in a beautiful sky.
In my heart an immense joy and peace calmed my soul. I was filled with gratitude.
I now clearly understood why. Once again the Lord had given me knowledge and light.
During my trip home, scriptures continued to flow into my mind: the promises made to Father Abraham that in his seed all families of the earth would be blessed.5
And for this, temples would be erected so that the divine power might be conferred upon man once again on the earth so that families could be united, not until death do us part but together for all eternity.
“And it shall come to pass in the last days, that the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established in the top of the mountains, and shall be exalted above the hills; and all nations shall flow unto it.”6

Christmas was just two weeks away. We had just moved to Moab, Utah, and our family of 11 was living in a three-bedroom trailer without utilities. My parents’ company had gone bankrupt, and there was no back pay. The situation was dismal, to say the least.
My singles ward was planning a service project called “The 12 Days of Christmas.” The bishops in the stake had prayed and selected a family for us to help for 12 days. Considering my family’s situation, I was disappointed that no one had offered to help us. I agreed to buy a gift for a boy in the family, but I couldn’t help but wonder what my own brothers would get for Christmas.
The day came for me to purchase a gift for this boy, and I wanted to get him something special. I decided to go to the local department store to see what toys were popular. After 30 minutes I was getting discouraged because no toys seemed just right for the child.
Then a young boy came into the store. He was about the right age, and his appearance suggested that his family was probably struggling financially. I noticed the thrill on his face as he came across a train set. I knew I had found my gift.
As this little boy’s brother came into the store to get him, I realized that this was the boy I was buying the gift for. I knew this was Heavenly Father’s way of telling me that the stake had picked the right family to serve. I was glad that I had agreed to help them rather than put my own needs first. But I had no idea that more blessings awaited my family.
My father found another job a couple of days before Christmas, and my parents managed to get a small gift for each child. And things were about to get even better.
The day before Christmas, a brother in the ward called the bishop and offered to rent a house to a needy family. It was a large, five-bedroom home with the utilities already working, and best of all, he didn’t expect rent until the next month. The bishop told us about the house, and we moved in that very morning.
Around the corner from the house was a little bar. Someone there noticed us moving in and was touched by our situation. He started collecting donations and brought over a mug filled with cash from perfect strangers.
Another miracle occurred when my father left work for the night. The bosses were passing out Christmas bonuses, but my dad had only been there for two days, so he assumed he wouldn’t get anything. He started to leave, and they said they had something for him. He was surprised to see that each of the men had given up part of their bonuses to share with our family. His company matched the donations. My dad was humbled by their generosity.
That evening, I helped drop off the gifts for our service project. When I got home, my mother told me about the mug of cash and the bonus from work. She had just finished when we heard horns honking. We ran outside and, to our further amazement, dozens of gifts decorated our lawn. We were touched and humbled by the love of strangers for our family. What began as a very meager Christmas had become, instead, a Christmas that we would never forget.
Later, as I thought about the events of the previous month, I realized that Heavenly Father knows each of us. He knows our needs, and He often uses others to meet those needs. But He blesses us the most when we put others first. When I sacrificed my family’s needs to help another family, my family was blessed more than I could have imagined.

“We explained at a fireside what we planned to do at the conference,” Jacie said. “We told them we were going to work and work hard, but we explained how they could help and how much good it would do for the farm.”

Evidently the appeal was convincing. “This is the biggest turnout we’ve ever had for a youth conference,” Jacie said. And Gary, who served on the steering committee with her, noted that more than 500 attended an activity originally planned for 300. “At first we were afraid people would be turned off by the idea of working, but it turned out to be one of the best ideas ever.”

On occasion, mission leaders can postpone serving due to business or family concerns. When Heidi and I were being considered as mission leaders, we had previously discussed that if we were given that option, we would delay going for one year because this change could be a significant struggle for our daughter who was going to be a senior in high school. We weren’t even sure that this daughter would go with us on the mission.

With that as background, we met with President Oaks. As we walked into his office, he said, “I’ve been studying about you and asking the Lord two questions: First, does He want you to serve? And second, if He does, when would He want you to serve?”

President Oaks continued: “I have felt impressions about those two questions, but before I share my feelings, I would like to know yours.”

Now I have felt pressure before in my life, but this was low-key next-level!

I was grateful that President Oaks turned to Heidi first.

“I don’t know the answer to the first question,” she said, “but about the timing of when we should go, I think we should go now.”

My jaw hit the floor. I turned to Heidi and whispered, “What did you say? I thought we talked about this.”

She whispered back, “I know. I’m sorry!”

To which I replied, “Well, that’s just not gonna cut it!”

President Oaks began to be amused at this. He chuckled and finally said, “Well, my feelings align with Sister Shumway’s.”

Now I felt about two inches tall. But I found the courage to express our concern for our daughter.

President Oaks tenderly replied: “I understand. I’d like to visit with her.”

We were stunned. With President Oaks’s busy schedule, how would he ever manage this?

Still, we set up this meeting with two of our daughters. In the meeting, President Oaks again asked us to share our feelings. Heidi and I went first, followed by our younger daughter Sophie.

Then President Oaks turned to Callie, and she began to cry. It was difficult for her to say anything.

President Oaks lovingly said: “Oh, sweet Callie, I have all the time in the world for you. When you are ready, we can chat.”

Then he patiently waited and kindly listened to Callie.

Did President Oaks have all the time in the world? No! And yet he took time to love and minister to the one.

He blessed me. He blessed my daughters. He blessed our family. And now, as God’s living prophet, he blesses the entire world!

Yes, President Oaks is the Lord’s voice “unto the ends of the earth.”5 To accomplish the mighty work of dispelling darkness that I spoke of earlier, you will need to know this truth deeply for yourself. But I also hope you know that President Oaks is a loving and compassionate disciple of Jesus Christ who is personally interested in helping each one of us return to live with God.

I saw this truth with our Callie—who did decide to join us in the mission field and had a life-changing experience.

Last year during a trip to Europe, I visited my old place of employment, Lufthansa German Airlines at the Frankfurt Airport.
To train their pilots, they operate several sophisticated full-motion flight simulators that can re-create almost any normal and emergency flight condition. During my many years as an airline captain, I had to pass a check flight in the flight simulator every six months to keep my pilot license current. I remember well those intense moments of stress and anxiety but also the feeling of accomplishment after passing the test. I was young then and loved the challenge.
During my visit, one of the Lufthansa executives asked if I would like to give it a try again and fly the 747 simulator one more time.
Before I had time to fully process the question, I heard a voice—sounding astonishingly like my own—saying, “Yes, I would like that very much.”
As soon as I said the words, a tsunami of thoughts flooded my mind. It had been a long time since I flew a 747. Back then I was young and a confident captain. Now I had a reputation to live up to as a former chief pilot. Would I embarrass myself in front of these professionals?
But it was too late to back down, so I settled into the captain’s seat, placed my hands on the familiar and beloved controls, and felt, once again, the exhilaration of flight as the big jet roared down the runway and took off into the wild blue yonder.
I’m happy to say that the flight was successful, the aircraft remained intact, and so did my self-image.
Even so, the experience was humbling for me. When I was in my prime, flying had become almost second nature. Now it took all my concentration to do the basic things.

Illustration by Brad Teare
“Oh no! Here comes Pedro!”
Everyone at school knew that Pedro was a bully. He was big, and he was mean! He called other kids names, took their lunches, and chased them around the school yard. No one wanted to be around him.
Pedro walked by Lucas and his friend Arthur. He called them “losers” and pushed Arthur.
Lucas was tired of Pedro being so mean. Without even thinking, he shouted, “Stop it, Pedro!”
Lucas couldn’t believe it. He’d just stood up to the biggest bully in school!
Pedro stormed up to Lucas and grabbed his shirt. “What did you say?” Lucas’s heart beat so fast it felt like it would jump out of his chest! “I’ll give you one warning,” Pedro said. “But you’d better watch out!” He shoved Lucas and walked away.
After that, Lucas did his best to avoid Pedro, but Pedro always found him. He kept Lucas off the swings, pushed him during dodgeball, tripped him in the cafeteria, and always said mean things.
One day Lucas and Arthur were playing with Arthur’s soccer ball. Pedro jumped out from behind a tree and grabbed it.
“Please give it back,” said Arthur.
“Who’s going to make me?” Pedro pushed Lucas and laughed.
Lucas could feel his stomach twist in knots. He was so angry! “You know what, Pedro?” Lucas said. “You’re the meanest kid I know! Nobody likes you. Everyone wishes you’d go away!”
Pedro stopped laughing. Lucas felt great about what he said … until he saw the look on Pedro’s face. Was he about to cry? Pedro quickly looked down and walked away.
Lucas instantly felt terrible. For the rest of the day, no matter how hard he tried, Lucas couldn’t get rid of the terrible feeling. That night, he tossed and turned in bed. He kept thinking about how sad Pedro had looked.
How could Pedro feel bad? Lucas thought. He doesn’t care if he’s mean to other kids. I had to say something, right? The more Lucas thought about it, the more he realized he was right to stand up for himself and his friend. But he was wrong to say those mean things.
Lucas knelt by his bed and asked Heavenly Father to forgive him. He told Heavenly Father that he never wanted to hurt anyone like that ever again. He wanted to be kind. When Lucas said “amen,” he knew what he had to do.
After lunch the next day, Lucas found Pedro standing against a wall by himself. Lucas was nervous. What would Pedro do? Lucas took a deep breath and walked over.
“Um, I’m sorry about yesterday.”
Pedro looked surprised. “You’re sorry?”
“Yes. I said some really mean things to you, and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”
Pedro stared down at his shoes. “It’s OK.”
The bell rang. Lucas started walking back to class. He felt so much better. But there was one more thing he wanted to say. He turned back around. “We could play soccer at recess tomorrow if you want.”
A small smile crossed Pedro’s face. “That sounds good.”
After that, things got better with Pedro. He was still a bully sometimes, but he wasn’t as mean. He even played with Lucas a few times at recess. And it was actually fun! At the end of the school year, Pedro told Lucas that he was moving away. Then he said something that really surprised Lucas.
“Thanks for being my friend,” Pedro said. “Even when I wasn’t nice.”
The warm feeling in Lucas’s heart let him know that being kind is always the right choice.

The years 1998 and 1999 were a period of somber events in the Congo. I fled my village because of war and spent more than seven months traveling in the wilderness with a group from my village. We had no way to return home.
Every evening our group prayed and sang together, and each person took a turn suggesting a hymn. When it was my turn, I suggested “How Firm a Foundation” (Hymns, no. 85). Even though no one else knew this hymn, I felt that it answered our concerns exactly.
I sang “How Firm a Foundation” many times in those seven months. It comforted me in my moments of isolation and suffering when life was so difficult with sickness and famine in the wilderness. I sang it alone, but the words and music penetrated the ears and hearts of the others: “In ev’ry condition—in sickness, in health, / In poverty’s vale or abounding in wealth, / At home or abroad, on the land or the sea— / As thy days may demand, … so thy succor shall be.” Because of these words, others told me they wanted to learn more about the Church.
One of the men in our group was the leader of a church in our country. After we returned to our village, this brother told me he wanted to find out more about the gospel. I responded to him, following the example set by Alma in Mosiah 18 (see Mosiah 18:8–10). In the end he joined the Church.
The hymn “How Firm a Foundation” touched my soul and brought me great joy and comfort while I was in the wilderness, and it brings me joy today knowing that it helped a good brother to join the Church.
Thierry Alexis Toko, Republic of Congo

Gray dawn had come. Pacha, a mountain boy of Peru, went out from his thatched hut to the place where the llamas rested at night. His whistle was low, his voice gentle. “Come, llamas!”
The six long-necked, woolly animals rose slowly to their feet while Pacha explained the new day. “When the sun comes,” he told them, “we will go with Papá down the mountain—to the market fair in the valley.”
The llamas made no sound, but Pacha felt sure that they understood. As they marched in stately file from the stone-enclosed corral, he stroked the thick fur of each one, calling it by name. “Ocli … Astro … Yana …” They were brown llamas with patches of yellowish white—all but Nubi, the smallest and youngest. Nubi was pure black.
Pacha loved them all. They were his friends, his companions. But he couldn’t help wishing that one of them was his very own. He wished it more than anything else.
A boy living farther up the mountain owned a llama. It had been given to him the day he brought his father’s string of llamas safely around a dangerous mountain landslide.
Ever since, Pacha had tried hard to think of something he might do—a deed so big and important that he would deserve a llama of his own. “I would choose you,” he whispered into the velvety ear of Nubi, the last to leave the corral. And Nubi’s small head gently nudged Pacha’s shoulder.
Outside the corral, the llamas formed a circle with their heads turned inward, waiting patiently for the loads to be tied to their backs. First Pacha and his father folded into a bunch the long coarse hair that grew on each animal’s back. This made a soft padding for their loads, which today would be lighter. Instead of the usual dried corn and hard mountain potatoes, the woven carrying bags were filled with llama fleece.
“It is good wool. We can trade it for many things we need,” said Papá as he tied the last bag in place. Only Nubi carried no load. She was still too young.
The man and the boy now turned their faces toward the eastern sky, waiting for the sun. Ay, but the wind was strong and cold! Shivering under his red and blue poncho, Pacha pulled the earflaps of his tasseled cap closer.
At last a rosy glow came up from behind the farthest snow peak. “It is time,” said Papá.
Pacha’s whistle was low, his voice gentle. “Come, llamas.”
Ocli had been chosen leader because he could pick the best way. The golden bell around his neck tinkled. Although the trail zigzagging down the mountain was rocky and very steep, the padded hoofs of the llamas never stumbled. Pacha stayed close behind Nubi, the last in line. Papá followed.
As they descended into the valley, the air grew warmer. Wildflowers bloomed purple and yellow and crimson. Then they saw the red roofs of the town in the valley, and soon they were making their way along a narrow, turning street. Their sandals slap-slapped on the worn cobblestones, and the hoofs of the llamas swish-swished.
An automobile, its horn blaring, crowded them. But the llamas strode on in perfect order, their heads high. Even Nubi stepped with pride and dignity all the way to the market fair in the center of town.
Pacha sniffed. “Mmmm!” How good the fresh pan (bread) smelled! “Mmmm!” How delicious it tasted when his father, smiling at Pacha’s eagerness, sold some wool, then bought a loaf.
Their next stop was a fruit stall where they bought big, yellow-orange papayas. Farther on, they added sugar cane and rock salt to their purchases. Also a shepherd’s knife for shearing the llamas, and a round clay cooking pot.
Now they had only enough time to get the clothing they needed: white trousers and new caps—a red one for Pacha, a white one for his father.
“We will take the rest of the wool to our friend Don Jacinto,” said Papá, “then buy our clothes at the indoor market.” He led the way down another street to a building with arches and pillars before it.
After taking as many bundles of wool as he could carry, Papá carried them into the store, saying, “Stay with the llamas, my son.”
The llamas quietly folded their legs beneath them and lay down to rest. Pacha was about to do the same, when a boy in town clothes hurried up. “Haven’t you heard?” he cried. “Foot races! They start over there!” He pointed to a nearby fountain. The first race was for boys their size, he quickly explained, and it would start pronto. As he ran off in the direction of the fountain, he called back, “The winner gets a prize! A fine prize!”
Pacha’s thoughts were awhirl! He had never run a race, but he knew that his legs were strong from climbing mountains. To win a race and a fine prize would be something big and important for him to do. At last his chance had come!
Pacha’s heart thumped with excitement. He started running to catch up with the boy.
Then suddenly he stopped. The llamas! They wouldn’t understand being left alone. Something might happen to them. He couldn’t run this race, after all. A lump too big to swallow came into his throat. He started to run again, this time back to the llamas.
All six animals stared at him with dark, sad eyes that were full of questions. Pacha spoke soothingly. “Of course I wouldn’t leave you, llamas.”
He stooped and put his arms around black Nubi. He hugged and patted each woolly animal. Even when he heard the loud boom that signaled the boys’ race, he stayed with them. The llamas, comforted, softly hummed.
A man’s deep voice spoke. “Ah, Pacha, why are you not running with the others?” It was Don Jacinto. He had come with Papá from the indoor market.
Before Pacha could explain, his father spoke. “Pacha was left in charge of the llamas. He could not leave them, not even to run a race.”
To Pacha’s amazement, Papá seemed very pleased that his son wasn’t trying to win a race. All at once his heart felt light again.
Don Jacinto had turned to look at the wool still tied to the llamas’ backs. His eyes fell on Nubi. “A fine black one!” he exclaimed. “When you have fleece from this llama, I will pay extra.”
Pacha’s father was silent for a long moment. Then he said, “The black one now belongs to Pacha. Her fleece will be his.”
At first, Pacha couldn’t believe what his ears had heard. Nubi his? A llama of his own?
Papá turned to Pacha. “Our llamas serve us well. In return, we must take care of them, my son. Now that I’m sure you understand this, I give you Nubi.”
It took Pacha a while to find his voice. “Gracias (thank you), Papá. Oh, gracias!” he exclaimed. He looked up at Don Jacinto and said, “When Nubi is sheared, I will bring the black fleece to you.”
It was time to start the homeward march. The sun, warm now, would set quickly. The stinging chill of the wind would return. The travelers needed to reach their mountain home before the trail darkened. Pacha’s whistle was low, his voice gentle. “Come, llamas!”
Ocli’s golden bell tinkled. The carrying bags, repacked with new possessions, swayed lightly on the animals’ backs.
Pacha, staying close to Nubi, thought over the happenings of the day. It had been a wonderful market fair, and he had learned something he would always remember: Small deeds can be as important as big ones.

“But they won’t want to go,” Tad insisted.
Brother Feagin thought for a moment and then said, “Do you know how many years Sister Arnold has been a widow?” We shook our heads.
“Thirty-five years. Her husband was killed when she was 42. She had eight kids under 18. She went back to college, got a degree, and then taught for the next 19 years. She didn’t have much time for a social life. Have you ever wondered what it would be like to go 35 years without a date? That’s twice as long as you’ve been alive. People never outgrow their need for doing things with other people. Oh, she’s gone to a church dance occasionally, but always with a couple, always feeling like a fifth wheel. Now she has a chance to go out and be the main wheel. Going with someone young enough to be her grandkid won’t be ideal, but it beats staying home for 35 years.”

Just a few weeks ago a young man, while at a Scout camp in the mountains east of Salt Lake City, was struck by lightning, which took his life. His parents, grief stricken and devastated at the sudden loss of their son, struggled quietly and asked why this happened. Because their hearts were submissive and their faith strong, there came a great outpouring of love from the Lord. In the midst of their grief came a quiet, tender resolve to accept without anger the outcome of this experience. With their acceptance came a larger vision of the purpose of life and a remembrance of the covenants that were in place. Though still filled with anguish from their sudden loss, they found themselves standing on a higher plane, committed to hold even faster to their covenants and to live such that they might be assured of a joyful reunion with their son.

Near my home was a hotel we often went to that had an arcade, a bowling alley, and a good restaurant. I spent many fun times bowling with my brothers and our friends. To get to the bowling alley, we had to go through the hotel’s casino. There is a distinct image in my mind to this day of the smell of cigarette and cigar smoke and the dropping of coins into the metal basins from the slot machines. The image of countless people sitting in the same place for hours playing cards or pulling levers on slot machines seems to be a constant reminder to me of the shallow habit of gambling.
One day a friend of mine, while leaving the bowling alley, tried his luck at a game of chance they called “Megabucks.” The winnings were well over a million dollars. You had to play several dollars at a time to have a chance at winning. Of course, he lost, and he kept on losing. Within five minutes he lost $60, and the only thing he had to show for it was his contribution to the grand total that would eventually go to someone else. My friend lost $60, yet I gained a greater distaste for the gambling habit and a greater resolve to keep the Lord’s commandments. Like other occasions in my life, this became a defining moment that strengthened my resolve to put my occasional past blemishes behind me and turn to the Lord with full purpose of heart.

When she was 16 years old, Sister Michelle D. Craig learned that her family would be moving from Provo, Utah, USA, to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, USA, so her father could begin an assignment to serve as a mission president.
She was happy to be with her family, but the move left young Michelle “lonely socially” during her junior and senior years of high school.
“Those were really formative years,” Sister Craig said. “Instead of relying on friends, I relied on my family and my testimony, and church became a lifeline.” She valued most her relationship with Heavenly Father and the Savior.

Five-year-old Russ Hancock climbed up onto the piano bench, made himself comfortable, and plunked out “Up We Go, Down We Go” for his teacher. She was appropriately impressed, listened carefully to his other numbers, and then gave him an assignment for the coming week. The lesson completed, Russ hopped off the bench and ran in to wash his hands for dinner. His teacher was his mom, and for the 11 years since then she has continued to be his most supportive and dedicated instructor. Music has always had a positive influence and been a favorite activity in the Hancock home. “It was during our family home evenings that I developed my love for music,” said Russ. “The six of us would gather around the two pianos in our living room and sing for hours.”
During the years, Russ has developed his talent as well as his affinity for music. He has appeared as a guest soloist with the Northwest Chamber Orchestra and the Tacoma (Washington) Youth Symphony and has performed at the Spokane World’s Fair and for Washington Governor Dixie Lee. Last summer he received first place in the Puget Sound Concerto auditions and received the honor of playing with the Northwest Summer Symphony. (He was given only a week to learn and perfect the entire Grieg Concerto in A Minor for that concert.) Russ’s family has presented concerts and lectures throughout the Northwest and has performed at various BYU Education Weeks.
Russ is the ward organist in the Kent Third Ward, Renton Washington Stake, and has earned his Duty to God and Eagle Scout awards also.

I was born in Brazil with rickets—a disease characterized by distorted bones. At 19 I weighed 50 kilos (111 lbs) and was 1.64 meters tall. As a result, I was not accepted into the military, so I began looking for ways to improve my physical condition. I began a series of exercises and ate a balanced diet.
During this time, I met the missionaries. I became acquainted with the Church and learned about the commandments, including the Word of Wisdom. It was just what I needed. It gave me guidelines of foods to eat and a list of impure items to avoid, namely tobacco and strong drinks. By reading the Doctrine and Covenants, I learned about the need for rest and sleep (see D&C 88:124).
I gained strength and weighed 78 kilos (172 lbs). I became a champion weight lifter. I also did judo and swam. Today at age 73 I am a marathon runner and have finished 30 marathons. In 2005 and 2006, I was second in my age class in Brazil. I have excellent health, and I am very happy.
I am grateful to our Heavenly Father for giving us laws that, if obeyed, will bring us blessings of health.
Antonio Olívio de Oliveira, São Paulo, Brazil