Gospel Story Finder

One such athlete is 25-year-old Milton Queiro da Paixao—affectionately known to his fans as Tita—a member of the Brazilian national soccer team. Tita says he owes a great deal of his success and ability to observing the Word of Wisdom.

“Since I was baptized,” he says, “I have diligently followed the principles of the Word of Wisdom. A good diet and a morally clean life have been of great value to me in keeping in excellent physical condition.”

Being in top physical condition is necessary for Tita and his teammates as they participate in soccer matches in various temperatures and climates and at various altitudes. Known for his diligence and concentration in practice and training—he is always one of the last to quit—Tita lives his religion comfortably, and he never misses an opportunity to explain why he doesn’t join others in smoking or drinking alcoholic beverages or tea and coffee.

Luiz Ziwi Pires, a reporter with the publication Zero Hora has commented that Tita is a “well-mannered, clean-cut young man. He treats people courteously and he is always willing to respond to questions about his religion.”

If you’ve ever wished somebody would make a movie from a Jack Weyland story, your wish has come true. The youth and leaders of the Cypress California Stake have turned Brother Weyland’s story “The Award,” published in the November 1979 New Era, into an exciting video production that has touched the hearts of many thousands of viewers with its special magic.
“The Award” is the story of several high school football stars who decide to reward the ugliest girl in their school with a corsage and a poem extolling her ugliness. They assign Kevin, the only Latter-day Saint on the team, to deliver the “award.” When Kevin reads the poem to his girl friend, Colleen, she begs him not to go through with the cruel joke, but he is afraid of losing his friends if he backs out. Before he can deliver the award, however, he has an opportunity to meet Mary Beth, the “ugly girl,” and discovers that she is really an outstanding person who donates much of her time to helping handicapped children.
Kevin and Colleen decide to go ahead and give Mary Beth an award, but they change it from a cruel put-down to a tribute for her acts of service. When the rest of the football team discovers the change, things become interesting.
Eventually, they too have a chance to meet the real Mary Beth. Some of them, led by the fullback, are unimpressed. “There are winners, and there are losers,” he says. “We’re the winners, and the girls we date are winners. The rest are all losers.”
But Craig, the quarterback, says, “We pick the person in school who everybody agrees is a loser, but then she turns out to be okay once we get to know her. … What if every one of them turns out to be special in some way?”
The video has been seen in many seminary classes and firesides, and it has changed people’s lives. “I thought about it all day long, and I saw people differently,” a ninth-grade student said. A local seminary teacher said that the video was the best visual aid she had used in seminary all year. Another seminary teacher says that her students now refer to Matthew 25:40 [Matt. 25:40] (“Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me”) as “the Mary Beth scripture.”
Group W Cable TV of Buena Park was so impressed that it is airing The Award on 15 of its community networks in southern California. Representatives of other religions have asked permission to use it with their own congregations. Chuck Coronado, a city councilman who is not LDS, has said, “We are going to give it as much exposure as we can.”
For the cast, it was a learning experience, not only in film production, but in compassion.
Cheryl Pence, who plays the part of Mary Beth, is a senior in computer science at the University of California at Irvine. She is most definitely not ugly. In fact, she is downright pretty. But her performance in the play gives chilling evidence of how stooped shoulders, downcast eyes, and a frightened expression can transform even a pretty girl into a drab shadow of herself. “It has been difficult at times to play the role of ‘the ugliest girl in school,’” she says. “If you’re not careful it can start influencing the way you see yourself. It must be devastating to suffer from that kind of a label in real life.” Back to her attractive self again after the shooting, Cheryl is not even recognized by most people as Mary Beth, but her alter ego has had a profound effect on her. “Being in the video has given me a greater appreciation for my fellowman and made me more thoughtful of others.”

Several months ago, Sister Sitati and I were in the home of a member family. The topic of ministering, just announced by President Russell M. Nelson, came up. The father wondered in what ways ministering would be the same or different from home teaching.
As the discussion progressed, Sister Sitati suggested that we do a mock ministering visit and learn from it. The suggestion was accepted, and so Sister Sitati and I became a ministering companionship and the family of six—comprising (not their real names) father Jack, mother Cindy, twenty-year-old son Amos, sixteen-year-old daughter Winnie, thirteen-year-old son Paul, and nine-year-old daughter Charity—became our assigned family for the purpose of the mock ministering visit.
The conversation went something like this:
Elder Sitati: Jack, Cindy, and children, Sister Sitati and I are thrilled to be assigned as your ministering brother and sister. Thank you everyone for making the time to meet with us in your home today.
Sister Sitati: After praying about it, we felt that on this first ministering visit, we want to explore together with you where you feel you currently stand temporally and spiritually as a family and individually and where you want to be.
Cindy: I think temporally, the Lord has blessed us, and we are very grateful. Quite frankly, we are all in different places in our spiritual progress, and so each one of us will likely have a different answer to where they are.
Elder Sitati: Let us begin with family prayer. How do you feel about how that is going?
Jack: Our schedules are crazy. For most of the week, because of the different activities in which we are involved, some of us are coming—while others are going—and it is difficult to find time to be together for family prayer.
Sister Sitati: How do you feel about continuing that way?
Jack: Clearly, we can do better. We want to do better. Today for example, we were able to coordinate our schedules so we could all be here at this time for your visit. So, we will try and coordinate better, to be together more often.
Elder Sitati: How can we help you to be better coordinated as a family?
Cindy: I would love it if Sister Sitati could call from time to time and just ask how we are doing with praying together.
Sister Sitati: What about reading the Book of Mormon daily?
Cindy: I think the same approach we use for prayer will work.
Eelder Sitati: Are there any other aspects of your discipleship that you wish to improve as a family?
Jack: Cindy is quite diligent with temple attendance, and the girls often go with her to do proxy baptisms. I have been a bit careless and have been without a current temple recommend for the last few months.
Elder Sitati: How can we help?
Jack: Your question is enough! I will repent and go and see the bishop next week.
Sister Sitati: What if we could plan to go to the temple together with your family?
Winnie: I would love that!
Cindy: Jack, would you like us to look at some possible dates?
Jack: Yes, of course. We can coordinate that over the phone. But the first week of next month looks like a good possibility. I will have renewed my temple recommend by then.
Elder Sitati: Amos, you have been quiet. How are things going with you?
Amos: Well, I don’t know. I don’t seem to feel much of anything these days.
Sister Sitati: What are the things that capture your interest, in which you find that you are usually fully engaged?
Amos: I like biking, especially going up and down mountain trails.
Elder Sitati: One of our sons likes mountain biking as a hobby. He is a member of a national internet biking community that you may be interested in. We would be happy to connect you with him.
Sister Sitati: Amos, the bishop mentioned that you have been thinking about going on mission lately.
Amos: Yes, but I am not sure. I don’t want to go just because of the bishop or my parents!
Sister Sitati: You don’t have to. Have you considered the covenant you made with the Lord when you received the priesthood? What did you promise you would do for the blessings the Lord offers you as a priesthood holder?
Amos: To serve Him.
Elder Sitati: And from Moroni 7:13 and 7:17, you can learn why you are not sure about serving, and then do something about it. Would you like to read it and let me know what you find out?
Amos: Sure. I can text you?
Elder Sitati: Yes, sure. Here is my cell phone number.
Sister Sitati: What about you Winnie, Paul, and Charity? Are you working on any personal spiritual goals?
Winnie: I am working on some goals in Personal Progress. Mum is helping me.
Sister Sitati: Excellent! (Looking at Paul.)
Paul: Boys don’t do Personal Progress!
Elder Sitati: You are right Paul. They do something else.
Paul: Last year, one of the teachers talked about Duty to God. When I looked at the book, the stuff in there was boring!
Elder Sitati: Most things are boring until we take an interest and really try them out. Then the Holy Ghost can help us. (Looking at Jack) I am sure your dad can help you.
Jack: Of course. I should have done that earlier, but my priorities were kind of upside down.
Charity: In Primary, we are memorizing the Articles of Faith. I can say them without reading up to number seven!
Sister Sitati: Excellent! (Gets up and hugs Charity.)
Elder Sitati: Well, that is the end of our short mock ministering home visit. What do you think? You all did so well!
A spirited discussion followed on the merits of the ministering approach versus message-based home teaching.
Each family or person to whom we minister is unique and has a specific set of needs. Our role as ministers is to—under influence of the Spirit—discover those needs, offer some solutions, and commit, as needed, to new behaviors. The mock visit above is but one way in which ministers can learn our duties and fulfill the sacred responsibilities with which we have been entrusted.
Postscript: As I have reflected back on that true experience from time to time since arriving in the Africa South East Area, I have felt that our conversation with Jack, Cindy, and the family could have been greatly enriched if we had used a resource like the pocket size 2019 Area Plan card that has been provided to every member.

You might say, “I am ill-equipped; my talents are so few.” Then I would ask you to take a little journey with me—a journey to a hospital in Salt Lake City, the University Hospital, where I had the privilege of being summoned to the side of a man, a man who was an inactive member of the Church and who had many weaknesses, a man who was in danger of dying. As I walked to the hospital ward, I noted the sign on the doorway, “Intensive care. Enter only with permission.” I sought the required permission, then went to the bedside of this good man.
The great machines of medical science were by his side, mechanically taking over when his heart would falter. An oxygen mask covered his face. He turned toward me, but there was no glimmer of recognition in his eyes, because the man in whose presence I stood was totally blind. Yet, as he heard my voice and thought back on more pleasant times, tears flowed, and he requested a blessing.
At the conclusion of the blessing, I recalled how this man had been blessed with a beautiful voice. While he was not a regular attender at church, he would come—particularly on Mother’s Day—and sing the beautiful number “That Wonderful Mother of Mine” and other songs honoring mothers. No person who ever heard him sing left without acquiring a deeper appreciation for his own mother that resulted in his honoring her and all womanhood. Similarly, he would participate in Christmas programs and would sing “O Holy Night.” No person who heard him sing this song came away without dedicating his life to better serving the Lord and keeping Christmas rather than spending Christmas.
The thought came into my heart that here is a man who, in his own humble way, has used the talent God had given him to bring joy and happiness into the lives of others. Multiply his talent (a beautiful voice) by the many talents you possess—then plan where your Christmas opportunity might be this very year. Your opportunity may come at a time when you least expect it.

There is another aspect to Kent’s studies beyond the intellectual and aesthetic. Living with these magnificent birds has strengthened his testimony of his Creator. One winter day he took an atheist friend to a canyon where he knew there would be eagles. As they stood in the snow watching some 50 bald eagles soar above them, Kent looked at his open-mouthed friend and said quietly, “That didn’t just happen by accident.”
“Boy, I know it!” his friend said, his voice small with awe.
If anybody wants to know why eagles are worth saving, maybe that’s why.

Two boys in the Olathe Second Ward, Olathe Kansas Stake, recently completed unusual projects in order to earn their Eagle Scout Awards.
Quilting might not sound like a typical Boy Scout activity, but after Michael Ross visited a shelter for abused children, he wanted to give the children something comforting they could call their own. Mike enlisted the help of the Scouts, Young Women, and Relief Society in his ward to create 30 quilts for the children.

For Oksana Fersanova, that’s exactly what the Church is like. Oksana, who lives in Khmel’nyts’kyy, Ukraine, was one of the first people to be baptized when her city opened for missionary work in 2006. Not long after her baptism she was called to serve as Primary president for the small group that meets in her city.
Oksana is typical of Latter-day Saint teenagers throughout the Church here—deeply involved in serving and eager to share the truth in a land where the message of the gospel is now taking hold. In areas like Khmel’nyts’kyy, the young converts provide energy, optimism, and unwavering testimonies of the gospel, which strengthen the Church in Ukraine.
Oksana had a testimony of Jesus Christ, but it wasn’t until her friends gave her a copy of the Book of Mormon that she gained a testimony of His restored gospel.
“As I read about Jesus Christ talking to the Nephites, a strong feeling came over me, and I knew that He loved me. I prayed and had a witness that He is my Savior and the Book of Mormon is true,” Oksana says.
“I knew that if Joseph Smith translated the Book of Mormon and the Book of Mormon was true, he was definitely a prophet of God and had restored the gospel of Jesus Christ,” she says.
Her friends taught her more about the gospel because there were no missionaries in Khmel’nyts’kyy at that time. For four years she studied the gospel and lived its principles as best as she could, praying for the missionaries to come.
Finally, in March 2006, they came. Oksana and her friend Sasha Kubatov were the first two people baptized in Khmel’nyts’kyy.
Sasha was only 14 when he received a Book of Mormon from his older sisters, who had joined the Church in another city.
“They emphasized the fact that I was 14, just as Joseph Smith was when he had his First Vision. He was greatly blessed at a young age, and I could be too,” he says.
So he started reading. He read until he got to the Isaiah chapters in 2 Nephi, and then he stopped. He read the Book of Mormon again a year later, but as a historical document, not with a desire to know if it was true.
But when he read the Book of Mormon the third time, Sasha focused less on its history and more on the work of God it recorded.
“As I read it, I thought it was true, but I didn’t have a firm testimony yet,” he admits. “I wanted to talk to the missionaries.”
When the elders arrived a few years later, they answered all of his questions and helped him prepare to be baptized and confirmed.
“As I walked into the waters of baptism, all my doubts were gone, and I knew that Joseph Smith was a prophet and the gospel is true,” he says. “I was not afraid, even though I knew the rest of my life would be different.”
His life is different now. As a home teacher Sasha is learning how to magnify the priesthood he holds and serve in the Lord’s kingdom.
Within a year of his baptism Sasha baptized his mother and his grandfather. His entire family has now joined the Church, and Sasha is excited to bring the gospel to others.
“I am preparing to serve a mission so that I can preach the gospel and bring someone else to God,” he says. “His work must go forward.”
Misha Sukonosov never imagined that attending English classes with the missionaries in Chernihiv would lead him to the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. But that changed after several months of attending the classes.
Misha loved the spirit he felt as the missionaries taught him English. And when he finally accepted their invitation to attend Church meetings with them, he was surprised to feel the same spirit at church.
Finally, one of the elders invited Misha to simply do what he knew was right and be baptized.
Misha knew it would take a great deal of courage to go against his family’s traditions. In Ukraine most people are lifelong members of the predominant church. His family was no exception.
His mother wanted him to wait a few years to be baptized, so he agreed to wait until he turned 16. In the meantime he attended church every week and began serving as branch pianist.
“That helped me come every Sunday, because I had to come or there would be nobody to play,” Misha says.
Finally, when the wait was over, Misha was baptized in the Desna River on July 1, 2006. At the time, he had no idea how quickly his family would follow his example.
His mother, Olga, started coming to church to learn more about her son’s new religion. She came so often that the branch president asked her to play the organ in sacrament meeting so Misha could be called as the music director.
After six months of hearing the members’ testimonies, including her son’s, Olga developed a testimony of her own. Misha baptized his mother in December 2006.
Olga still plays the organ every week. Misha, now 17, keeps busy by helping the branch presidency, serving as a branch missionary, and leading the hymns in sacrament meeting.
“I know the Church needs me,” he says. “I am so grateful for these chances to serve. The Church helps me as I help others.”
In L’viv, a city in western Ukraine, Yuri Voynarovich and his family started searching for truth when he was just 10 years old. For years they visited different churches. Then his uncle invited them to attend a branch of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and Yuri’s parents were soon baptized and confirmed.
“I didn’t go at first,” Yuri says. “I kept searching on my own.”
But his parents, who knew the Church was true, didn’t give up on their son. They invited Yuri to English lessons and youth activities as well as Sunday meetings. Finally, the missionaries themselves invited him to English classes.
“I couldn’t say no to them,” Yuri says. So he went. Then he went to church. Eventually he too was baptized.
“Since that day I’ve had many more experiences that have built and molded my testimony and character into who I am today,” he says.
“I often see people who suffer from bad choices they’ve made,” he says. “I understand sometimes it’s hard because of temptations and peer pressure, but we shouldn’t give up. Later we can see the blessings that come from obedience.”
Yuri, now 17, serves as the branch mission leader and branch clerk in L’viv.
“I am so thankful for the Church and all it has done for me,” Yuri says. “I love this Church. I encourage everyone to hold to the iron rod and never let go.”

Everyone can find ways to offer Christlike service. My counselor Sister Carol F. McConkie recently told me about her 10-year-old granddaughter Sarah who, when she realized that her mother was ill, decided on her own to be of help. She got her little sister up, helped her dress, brush her teeth, fix her hair, and eat breakfast so her mother could rest. She quietly performed this simple act of service without being asked because she saw a need and desired to help. Not only did Sarah bless her mother, but I am sure that she also felt joy in knowing she had lightened the burden of someone she loved and, along the way, strengthened her relationship with her sister. President James E. Faust said: “Serving others can begin at almost any age. … It need not be on a grand scale, and it is noblest within the family.”4

June 7, 1955
This afternoon I watched the girls play outside. They were having so much fun making necklaces out of dandelions. They laughed and giggled at the silly things each would say and do. As I quietly watched, Elizabeth noticed me and ran over to give me a big, yellow dandelion. “I love you, Mom,” she said.
In my heart I thanked Heavenly Father for such precious children. They are like the sunshine that lights my day. I continue to pray and work toward the blessing of being sealed as a family in the temple. Until that day arrives, I will put my trust and faith in the Lord.

My brother and I were driving home from work on a long, dark stretch of highway. We hadn’t passed a car for miles. I was exhausted, and in an attempt to stay awake, I began looking at the layout of the road. We were in a hilly area, and there were two lanes going up the side of the hill we were climbing. Only one lane came down in the other direction. The extra lane in our direction was a passing lane because of the steep grade.
I began wondering about the downhill side. Sometimes on a steep incline, I knew, large trucks lose their brakes. I wondered what would happen, with only one lane, if a truck lost its brakes and a car was in front of it. It could be a serious situation. I was glad there was no other traffic on the road that night.
After a few moments I again thought about the situation. I was driving in the passing lane and figured a truck without brakes would have to veer into my lane to pass a slower vehicle. A thought came into my mind that the right lane would be safer, just in case something like that happened. But I rationalized that it was late and there was no traffic, so it didn’t really matter where I drove. The thought came again as I approached the top of the hill. I realized that I couldn’t see the oncoming traffic, and it couldn’t see me either.
Suddenly a sharp voice shouted, “Move!” I was so startled that I jerked the steering wheel abruptly and veered into the right lane. In that instant lights came over the hill and a horn blared. My brother woke up just in time to see the truck pass us in the middle lane. A moment later a station wagon came over the hill in the far lane. I was so shaken I pulled over on the shoulder of the road to steady my nerves. The realization that my brother and I could have been killed was very frightening.
I was amazed; I had heard that the Holy Ghost speaks with a still, small voice, but this voice had shouted. It was several years later when I realized that the Holy Ghost had indeed spoken in a still, small voice. He had spoken to me as He brought to my mind the possibilities of where a large truck might go, and He had spoken again when He suggested I move to the far right lane. I was dismayed when I realized I had not recognized the still, small voice. Finally there was no time left, and the Spirit had to shout.
After that experience I vowed to always live my life so that I am in tune with the Spirit. I decided I would never again question a prompting but would follow the still, small voice immediately.

In our little Finnish town, the ski race was the biggest event of the year.
It’s part of Russia now, the village in Karelia where I spent my childhood. The Russians annexed it, along with the rest of the Karelian region, after the two countries fought a war in 1939–40. But when I was young, the land of lakes, marshes, streams, cold weather, and hills was part of Finland. And that meant it was a land of skiing and of ski races.
Each February, when the worst of the winter chill was over, the townsfolk would come out of hibernation and gather at a large sand pit on the outskirts of the village. The sand pit was the site for the finish line of the cross-country ski competition, and for good reasons. For one thing, the hole torn from the side of the hill by summertime construction workers was large enough not only for the finish line, but for a food stand as well. One race day, the air was full of the aroma of gooey, steaming meat pies and sausages. For another thing, the snow-covered sides of the sand pit formed a natural amphitheater. Standing around its sides and rim, spectators could clearly see the final stretch of the course, and the entire town knew who the winner was the moment he crossed the line.
There were many preparations for the contest. Race officials tied blue paper armbands on some of the older children, authorizing them to monitor the crowds of people and keep competition lanes uncluttered. Trails were marked for the different events—short courses for younger children, longer courses for older children; separate trails for male and female teenagers and for men and women; and even a grandpa trail for the older folks, who always performed well in their own special race. Each group followed its own path, clearly marked by colored paper streamers. But the biggest event of all was the men’s 30-kilometer race. The winner was the hero of the village for a year, the man who had proved what he was made of. Many a quiet farmer, shoemaker, or storekeeper imagined himself gliding past his neighbors and on to victory.
As children, though we had a hero of our own. We called him Tappi-Eiska. He was the smallest and shortest possible full-grown man without being a midget. He was also the nicest, fun person we knew outside our family circles. Maybe his shortness helped us relate to him, because we could look at him eye-to-eye. Maybe we understood the struggles he’d been through because of his size. “Eiska” is probably a shortened form of Einari, which could have been his true first name. But “Tappie,” in Finnish, means “stump” or “shortie,” and it might well be that originally the nickname was intended as an insult. It didn’t matter to us children. He was the one we felt should be the best skier of the year.
The problem was, Tappi-Eiska wasn’t a very good skier. The first year he raced in the men’s division was a complete failure. The men had to go around a ten-kilometer course three times, and when the winner came in, Tappi-Eiska was just finishing his first time around the course. By the time Tappi did finish, the other skiers were all in the bath house or on the way home. Only a few disappointed children waited for their tired friend at the finish line.
The rest of that winter and all of the next one, Tappi-Eiska spent every spare minute skiing on that trail. In the summer he swam and rowed a big army boat around in the Vuoksi River. He didn’t grow taller, but he did grow muscular. We children were excited, certain that all those muscles and all that practice would make him a winner at last. We thought a man should win just because he was nice. It always happened that way in the movies.
But Tappi-Eiska didn’t win that year, either. This time, he crossed the line with the last group of skiers. At least he wasn’t hours behind, and some other people besides us saw him complete the race. We figured his legs were just too short to compete with the big men. Maybe he’d even stop trying now.
But during the next year, Tappi-Eiska showed us what the Finish word sisu means. It means determination or courage. And that’s what this man had. He went on training and training and training. By the time of the next ski contest, we knew Tappi would win. Of course, we had felt that way every year, but this time it seemed possible all over again.
The striding skiers kicked up snow as they raced into the forest. Through one lap, through two, and back into the forest again. When we knew they would be coming into sight, some of us, on skis ourselves, moved out from the sand hole to meet the winner, sure that it would be our hero, Tappi-Eiska.
We waited in the cold. The trees were white with frost. Smoke from the few visible chimneys stretched straight up in gray ribbons. Our cheeks were red. But then, suddenly, we were warm all over! Emerging from the edge of the forest was the shortest man in town, now the biggest man in town—Tappi-Eiska! He was ahead of everyone! Even the adults rose to their feet to cheer him on.
He came to the hill. We could see his short legs pumping so fast we could hardly focus on them. Then behind him came another man, a huge, lumbering giant! I’m sure many of us wished inside that somehow this long-legged pest would trip or break a ski, anything to keep him from passing. But as the two neared the top of the sand hole, the larger skier slipped past and crossed the line first.
How often in the years since then have I felt sorry for the man who came in first. Few of us cheered the winner. But when Tappi-Eiska crossed that line, there was much noise and confusion. We followed him on our skis down into the pit, and no older children with blue armbands could have stopped us. We gathered around Tappi-Eiska, then threw him into the air, skis and all. Many townspeople, who knew of Tappi’s struggles, joined us. Some were weeping without shame. We completely forgot that he had come in second, not first. This stubbornly determined little man had shown us the value of not giving up and had become the hero of my childhood.
That was 1938. World War II came the next year and took many things away. There were no ski contests. I never got my chance to be one of the older children wearing a blue armband and monitoring the crowd. And Tappi-Eiska never got another chance to prove he could cross the finish line first. But for me, and for the others, he would never have to. He had already proved he was a true winner in every sense of the word.

As the only member of the Church in her school, Angela has plenty of opportunities to be a missionary. At a birthday party she attended, the girls began watching an inappropriate movie. “I told them, ‘I can’t watch this, because I’m a member of the Church,’” she remembers. She left the room, and another friend who was not a member soon followed. Together they watched a better movie. “When I left, I saw that I was wearing my CTR ring,” Angela says. She is glad she was able to choose the right and set an example for her friends.

Youth in Longview, Texas, had a blast last summer painting their community rodeo arena and corral—and each other! More than 250 young people from the Longview Stake and the Gilmer Texas Stake got the job done in just about four hours, to the amazement of city officials.
“When we got there it was really trashed. I couldn’t believe it. We never thought we could get it done, but it only took four hours. The people from the city were amazed,” says Amber Davis, a Laurel from the Longview Second Ward.
The job included painting a Texas flag on the north bleachers and an American flag on the south bleachers.
“The fun part was that there was a lot of team work, so if you weren’t finished with your project, other people came and helped you,” says Amber.
City officials were so pleased with the job the youth did that they mailed each of them a thank-you note with a picture of the newly painted arena.

I rolled over and threw back my sheets. Why wasn’t I asleep yet? The house had been dark for hours while I was still lying here, wide awake. I gave up on sleeping and walked over to my window. From here I could easily see the city stretching out from my house to the desert, and the desert stretching out from the city to the horizon.
From the windowsill, I looked over the city. This was the first time I’d watched it so closely, and though it was dark, I seemed to see it more clearly than ever before. I could trace streetlights shining along roads and traffic lights signaling at intersections. Lights glowed from houses, blazed from signs, and flickered from cars.
As I stared at the city I was amazed by it all: by all the life happening under those lights, by the civilization symbolized by those lights, by the progress that had created those lights. Except when using candles or fires, our ancestors had to go to bed when the sun went down. But we have harnessed energy to light our streets, power our ovens, run our TVs and telephones and toasters. What could be more miraculous?
Even as I thought about those triumphs, I looked out past where the city ended in darkened mesas and extinct volcanoes and then up to the sky, where millions of stars twinkled and sparkled and glittered in the heavens. Starlight came from billions of miles away and was hundreds or even thousands of years old. It didn’t need to be turned on or transmitted by wires. And it was more beautiful than any lights display could ever be.
The city lights, which took thousands of us to create, didn’t begin to compare with what Heavenly Father had made. Thinking about the vastness of what I was seeing, I expected to feel myself drop to insignificance. Instead I had a feeling that I was Heavenly Father’s daughter. He knew I was sitting in a little bedroom looking at the sky and thinking about Him. And I knew that even though He created so many worlds and galaxies, He cared about me.
I stayed by the window for a long time. When I got back to bed, I was filled more with feelings than thoughts: feelings of amazement and love, excitement and peace.

The noise was so loud it woke Christina Foster up—a roaring like a midnight train rumbling through the town. She cowered in her sleeping bag, afraid that the window near her would shatter from the violent vibration.
Christina, 16, of the Monck’s Corner Ward, Charleston South Carolina Stake, was living through the nightmare of Hurricane Hugo. Her family was camping out in the stake center, along with other ward members warned by civil authorities to evacuate their homes.
After a few minutes, Christina got up and joined her parents and sisters as they tried to see what was happening outside. It was the darkest, blackest night she could remember.
“All we could hear were things moving around, and the snap, snap, snap of trees falling,” said Christina. “I was more scared than I should have been. But everyone at the church was calm, so I felt safe.”

When she was 26, Cristina’s health quickly declined. She went to São Paulo for some tests. There she learned she needed another surgery. During the operation, Cristina suffered a heart attack that caused brain damage. Months passed, and she did not improve. As a family we gathered together to fast and pray for her recovery, but she did not improve. We decided to fast again, this time asking for help to accept the will of our Father in Heaven. The following day Cristina passed away.
This was not what we hoped for, but we realized this was a miracle too. Cristina no longer had to suffer. The gospel gave us joy and peace, even in moments of deep sadness. Because we have been sealed, we know we can be with Cristina again.

Bishop Edgley has told you a basketball story. I think I’d like to tell you a baseball story. I was reminded of it while watching a program on the Public Broadcasting System one evening not long ago. It was a program on baseball, once the great American pastime.
I recognize that baseball has little interest for people in most nations of the world, but I speak of it to highlight a principle that has meaning for people everywhere.
The event of which I speak occurred in the World Series of 1912. It was an eight-game series because one of the games was called at midpoint because of darkness. Playing fields were not electrically lighted at that time. It was the last game and the score was tied 1–1. The Boston Red Sox were at bat, the New York Giants in the field. A Boston batter knocked a high-arching fly. Two New York players ran for it. Fred Snodgrass in center field signaled to his associate that he would take it. He came squarely under the ball, which fell into his glove. It went right through his hand and fell to the ground. A howl went up in the stands. The roaring fans couldn’t believe it. Snodgrass had dropped the ball. He had caught hundreds of fly balls before. But now, at this crucial moment, he dropped the ball. The New York Giants lost. The Boston Red Sox won the series.
Snodgrass came back the following season and played brilliant ball for nine more years. He lived to be eighty-six years of age, dying in 1974. But after that one slip, for sixty-two years when he was introduced to anybody, the expected response was, “Oh, yes, you’re the one who dropped the ball.”

A second principle is illustrated by two faithful Saints, each deeply desirous of finding an eternal companion. Both prayerfully took faith-filled steps.

Yuri, a Russian Latter-day Saint, sacrificed and saved to take a long trip to the temple. On the train he noticed a beautiful woman with a bright countenance, and he felt that he should share the gospel with her. Not knowing what else to do, he began reading from his Book of Mormon, hoping that she might notice.

Yuri didn’t realize that the woman, Mariya, was already a Latter-day Saint. Not knowing that Yuri too was a member, and following a prompting she had to share the gospel with him, Mariya began reading in her Book of Mormon as well, hoping that he might notice.

Well, when they simultaneously looked up, Yuri and Mariya were astonished to see the Book of Mormon in each other’s hands—and yes, after falling in love, they were sealed in the temple. Today, Yuri and Mariya Kutepov of Voronezh, Russia, as eternal companions, contribute significantly to the growth of the Church in Russia.

Mine has been the opportunity to meet many wonderful men and women in various parts of the world. A few of them have left an indelible impression upon me. I share with you a story I spoke of some years ago. I met a naval officer from a distant nation, a brilliant young man who had been brought to the United States for advanced training. Some of his associates in the United States Navy, whose behavior had attracted him, shared with him at his request their religious beliefs. He was not a Christian, but he was interested. They told him of the Savior of the world, of Jesus Christ born in Bethlehem, who gave his life for all mankind. They told him of the appearance of God, the Eternal Father, and the resurrected Lord to the boy Joseph Smith. They spoke of modern prophets. They taught him the gospel of the Master. The Spirit touched his heart, and he was baptized.
He was introduced to me just before he was to return to his native land. We spoke of these things, and then I said: “Your people are not Christians. What will happen when you return home a Christian, and, more particularly, a Mormon Christian?”
His face clouded, and he replied, “My family will be disappointed. They may cast me out and regard me as dead. As for my future and my career, all opportunity may be foreclosed against me.”
I asked, “Are you willing to pay so great a price for the gospel?”
His dark eyes, moistened by tears, shone from his handsome brown face as he answered, “It’s true, isn’t it?”
Ashamed at having asked the question, I responded, “Yes, it’s true.”
To which he replied, “Then what else matters?”
These are questions I should like to leave with you: “It’s true, isn’t it? Then what else really matters?”

I remember so well how my father would talk to the Lord when he used to call us together for family prayer. He didn’t just say a few words and then send us off to the fields. Instead he knelt with us and told the Lord about some of our weaknesses and some of our problems where we had failed.
“Eldon didn’t do exactly what he should have done today. We are sorry that he made this mistake. Kindly forgive him, and we feel sure, Heavenly Father, that he will try to do what is right. Let thy Spirit be with him and bless him so that he can be a good boy.”
In the mornings Father used to pray, “Let thy blessings attend us as we go about our duties so that we may do what is right and return tonight to make a report.” This always gave us greater strength to meet and overcome temptations for we knew that we would be reporting to the Lord at night.
I am going to report to the Lord tonight, I used to think. And this thought helped me to live a better life during the day.