Gospel Story Finder

Shortly after my mission, while a student at Brigham Young University, I received a phone call from my dad. He told me that he had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and that although his chances of survival were not good, he was determined to be healed and return to his normal life activities. That phone call was a sobering moment for me. My dad had been my bishop, my friend, and my adviser. As my mother, my siblings, and I contemplated the future, it appeared bleak. My younger brother, Dave, was serving a mission in New York and participated long-distance in these difficult family events.
The medical providers of the day suggested surgery to try and curtail the spread of the cancer. Our family earnestly fasted and prayed for a miracle. I felt that we had sufficient faith that my father could be healed. Just prior to the surgery, my older brother, Norm, and I gave my dad a blessing. With all the faith we could muster, we prayed that he would be healed.
The surgery was scheduled to last many hours, but after just a short time, the doctor came to the waiting room to meet with our family. He told us that as they began the surgery, they could see that the cancer had spread throughout my father’s body. Based upon what they observed, my father had just a few months to live. We were devastated.
As my father awakened from the surgery, he was anxious to learn if the procedure had been successful. We shared with him the grim news.
We continued to fast and pray for a miracle. As my father’s health quickly declined, we began to pray that he could be free of pain. Eventually, as his condition worsened, we asked the Lord to allow him to pass quickly. Just a few months after the surgery, as predicted by the surgeon, my father did pass away.
Much love and care were poured out upon our family by ward members and family friends. We had a beautiful funeral that honored the life of my father. As time passed, however, and we experienced the pain of my father’s absence, I began to wonder why my father had not been healed. I wondered if my faith was not strong enough. Why did some families receive a miracle, but our family did not? I had learned on my mission to turn to the scriptures for answers, so I began to search the scriptures.
But here is the greater lesson I learned. I had mistakenly believed that the Savior’s healing power had not worked for my family. As I now look back with more mature eyes and experience, I see that the Savior’s healing power was evident in the lives of each of my family members. I was so focused on a physical healing that I failed to see the miracles that had occurred. The Lord strengthened and lifted my mother beyond her capacity through this difficult trial, and she led a long and productive life. She had a remarkable positive influence on her children and grandchildren. The Lord blessed me and my siblings with love, unity, faith, and resilience that became an important part of our lives and continues today.
But what about my dad? As with all who will repent, he was spiritually healed as he sought and received the blessings available because of the Savior’s Atonement. He received a remission of his sins and now awaits the miracle of the Resurrection. The Apostle Paul taught, “For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive.” You see, I was saying to the Savior, “We brought my dad to You to be healed,” and it is now clear to me that the Savior did heal him. The balm of Gilead worked for the Nielson family—not in the way that we had supposed, but in an even more significant way that has blessed and continues to bless our lives.

We were still living in our home country, Argentina, when my husband and I started our family. We were returned missionaries and knew it was a blessing to be married in the Lord’s temple. We were excited to walk the path back to Heavenly Father together.
We knew that the plan of salvation included trials, but we trusted that we would be able to overcome anything through faith and prayer. But we did not expect adversity to come upon us without stopping. Trial after trial seemed to rain down upon us.
One afternoon I was alone, feeling very sad and crying inconsolably because of our trials. I didn’t know what to do. Every time I tried to stop crying, I only felt more depressed and anguished.
I then thought about the many men and women who shared with me how valuable prayer had been for them during difficult moments. I had a testimony of prayer, but my mind and spirit were so tormented that I thought I wouldn’t be able to find the words to say.
In tears, I knelt by my bed and with all of my heart, I asked Heavenly Father for comfort and peace. I didn’t ask for a solution or even for the trial to disappear. I just asked for peace.
While I was praying, I heard a knock on my front door. I opened it, with tears still in my eyes, and saw a sister from Relief Society. She told me she was working in the area and had stopped by on her motorcycle. All I could do was hug her. She said, “I don’t know why, but I felt I needed to stop by and see you.”
We sat at my kitchen table and she helped me calm down. After talking with her for a few minutes, I finally started to feel that I wasn’t alone and that Heavenly Father had heard my prayer.
It is a blessing to be able to talk to my Heavenly Father through prayer. He listened to me in my hour of need and sent one of His children to help me. I’m grateful this sister heard the inspiration of the Spirit and followed it.

I love the temple because it’s a place where you can truly feel the Spirit. It’s a place of purity where you can really feel the love of Christ.
I had the opportunity to live in the United States for a year. After I got there, for a while I was really lonely. I missed my family and my home, but I struggled with more than just that. I didn’t have a lot of friends at school, I was having a hard time with the language and culture, and I had a little trouble with the family I was living with.
Even at church I sometimes felt alone. I felt like going home. I really wanted to see my family again.
But I started to think about Jesus Christ and how He suffered for me. I prayed, and God comforted me. Where I was staying, the temple was so close—just six minutes away. So I decided to go to the temple once a week, and that really was a blessing in my life.
Things began to change. I found some good friends, and God made it possible for me to continue to the end of my time away from home. I know that I felt comfort because of Jesus Christ. He gave me help and strength, and that gave me courage. People sometimes think that the Atonement of Jesus Christ is just about repentance. But Christ is also a source of great comfort. I know I can’t possibly understand everything He endured, but He understands me.
Yona C., 17, France

Because of a lawsuit filed by some local residents who objected to the temple’s proposed steeple, the temple was dedicated without a steeple. Yet in a press conference on the eve of the dedication, President Hinckley expressed optimism concerning the issue.
“We wish the steeple were on it. I regret that it isn’t. But we can get along without it while awaiting the outcome of the legal action,” he said. “In the meantime, we’ll go forward performing the ordinance work of this sacred house.”

Sometimes coaches are convinced that one or two athletes are indispensable to their team’s success. Can we be justified in overlooking flagrant violations of BYU standards in order to protect such athletes? If so, we make a mockery of the values that underpin the university.
Perhaps this can be put in perspective by an event that took place in 1954. BYU’s basketball team was 3-11 in the early season and going nowhere. Our most outstanding player was dismissed from school. When this athlete left the team, attitudes changed, discipline was restored, and another player, Herschel “Bones” Pederson, replaced him. The season was turned around: the team finished second in the conference with a 10-4 record. How could this be? Interestingly, “Bones” was one of those, rare for his day, returned missionaries.
It is clear to me that it is appropriate at times to dismiss athletes who will not abide BYU’s standards, notwithstanding the condemnation of the press. Upholding the Honor Code will not result in unsuccessful seasons. I remember when Coach Clarence Robison dismissed an All-American from our track team. This athlete’s removal from school happened because a coach was committed to BYU standards. Coach Robison asked the young man to leave because his behavior clearly demonstrated he would not change.

As bishop of our ward, I encouraged parents to give their children opportunities to teach in family home evening. My wife and I decided to do as I had said.
Our son taught first, and we enjoyed his lesson on prayer. The next Monday was our daughter’s turn. She had been baptized only a few months before. Her topic was God’s creation. She asked a series of questions, which we answered in turn. She then bore her testimony and concluded.
My son exclaimed, “You’ve not taught us yet; you were only asking questions.” But I told my family that I had been moved when my wife, answering one of the questions, said that she is grateful to God for creating family units and giving her a wonderful family with a loving husband. I told them that my heart was full of gratitude when my youngest daughter answered the question “Who created the world?” by exclaiming, “Jesus.” I found many other answers overwhelming in their insightfulness.
So even though my daughter did not “teach” as my son expected, her lesson—and others my children have taught—are my favorite family home evenings.
Richard Ikpegbu, Nigeria

“My brother drove an ox team for a widow and her little girl. The little girl was very sweet and amiable, the mother rather peculiar. He said that she would ask more questions in a day than ten men could answer in a week. He was a born joker and could no more help joking than he could help breathing. He could never tell her anything so absurd or ridiculous but what she believed it. He got so tired of her questions, such as ‘Riley, I wonder how far we have traveled today?’ and ‘I wonder how far we will travel tomorrow?’ ‘I wonder if we will get to water?’ ‘I wonder if we will see any Indians?’ and ‘I wonder what they will do?’ ‘Will they be friendly or savage?’ Her wondering got so monotonous he could hardly stand it.
“At last he had his revenge when we came in sight of Chimney Rock. Anybody who has crossed the plains either by wagon or rail will remember seeing this—a land mark—it is very tall and shaped something like a smokestack and probably centuries old. At the rate we traveled it could be seen several days before we reached it. [When] she began her speculations about the rock, he told her in a most confidential way that as soon as we got to it, he was going to push it down, that he was sick and tired of hearing so much about Chimney Rock, that it had stood there long enough anyway. As soon as he got his hands on it, over it would go. Well, she begged and implored him to let it stand that other emigrants might see it who came after us, but he was obdurate. She then threatened him to tell Brigham, when she got to the Valley. That was always her last resort. Well, he kept her anxiety at fever heat for two days until we were within about a half mile of it. He then gave in to her pleadings and said he would let it stand. She was so delighted that she gave him an extra good dinner and supper that day.”

At first I thought seminary would be hard. I had to change schools, and seminary was early in the morning. I didn’t think it would work because I had a lot of homework and other things going on.
But when I started going to seminary, time just opened up for me. Now I always have enough time for my homework. And I’m always excited the next day to get up and go back to seminary. My friends and I support each other and learn a lot while we’re there.

Sixteen-year-old Mai-Anh Doan, her older sister, and two young brothers were separated from their family during the confusion and chaos of the Saigon airlift in April 1975. The entire Saigon Branch of the Church, some 250 men, women, and children, was on the approved evacuation list, but the airlift came to a sudden halt when shelling of the airport damaged the runway so heavily that transport planes could no longer use it. Helicopters were sent in to evacuate as many as they could hold until even they could not safely enter or leave the area.
Mai-Anh and her sister, members of the Saigon Vietnam Branch, waited at the airport for three days to be evacuated. They sat together praying and crying and hoping for the best as incoming shells whistled overhead and exploded on and near the runway. The war had never been so close to them.
Like most others in the Saigon Branch, Mai-Anh was happy with her life in Vietnam. She loved the Church and her country. She did not want to leave but could not and dared not stay. As she took her place on one of the helicopters to be evacuated to safety, her thoughts were of her parents and family who were still on the ground waiting for their turn to board one of the helicopters. She was very much afraid. As the huge, dual-rotored helicopter lifted her through the clouds, she could not hold back tears of despair even as she, with happiness and great relief, thanked God for her safe passage out of Vietnam.
Mai-Anh, her sister, and two brothers were reunited with the rest of their family in Guam about a week after leaving Vietnam. It was a week they will never forget, traveling into the unknown due to circumstances they did not understand. The U.S. Navy ship Deluth was packed stem to stern with thousands of Vietnamese in similar circumstances. As crowded as it was, Mai-Anh’s loneliness nearly consumed her. The fate of her family was a mystery; the life she had known was in shambles. This was surely the lowest point in her young life. As hungry as she was, on Fast Sunday, far out in the Pacific Ocean, she and her sister fasted and prayed for the safety of her parents and other family members. How great was her joy when her father met the bus which took her from the ship to the refugee camp! All of her family were safe! About 60 of the displaced Vietnamese LDS were taken to Guam after the airlift and shared the same barracks.

I went on a fathers and sons’ campout with my ward. My friends and I hiked down a canyon. We chose the oldest boy, Hunter, to be our leader. When we came to a curve in the canyon, Hunter warned us that we shouldn’t go around the curve. He had a feeling that something bad would happen if we did. So we turned around and walked in the other direction. Later, when we were hiking with our dads and we went around that curve, Hunter’s dad almost stepped on a rattlesnake! A rattlesnake’s rattle is a warning, but the Holy Ghost can warn us about all kinds of danger. I am thankful Hunter listened to the Holy Ghost so we could all be safe.

Raish smiled as she walked out of the chapel. She heard piano music coming from down the hall. It was time for Primary!
“Choose the right way and be happy,” Raish sang with the other children. “I must always choose the right.”
After singing time, Sister Aquino stood at the front of the room. “Does anyone still have their CTR ring?” she asked.
Raish raised her hand. “I do!” she said. “I keep mine in my drawer at home.”
“That’s great, Raish,” Sister Aquino said. “I remember when I was young, my mom always told me, ‘Remember who you are and what you stand for.’ I hope all of you will do your best to choose the right.”
When Raish got home from church, she ran to her drawer and pulled out her CTR ring. She wanted to wear it more often to remind her to choose the right.
The next day at school, Raish carried her lunch to the table where her friends always sat. She always loved talking with Julia and Bituin!
Raish and her friends were laughing about their favorite show when a new girl walked over. She sat down next to Julia. “Hi,” she said quietly. “I’m Imelda.”
“Um, excuse me!” Julia said. “This is our table.”
Imelda stood up. “Oh,” she said quickly. “Sorry.” She looked down at the ground and walked away.
Raish scrunched her forehead. “Why did you say that?” she asked Julia. “We should be nice to her. She’s new, and she probably needs friends.”
“But it’s our table,” Julia said.
“Yeah,” said Bituin.
Raish looked down at her food. She felt bad for Imelda. But she was afraid to say anything more. What if Julia and Bituin got mad at her?
That night, Raish kept thinking about Imelda. She decided to say a prayer. “Heavenly Father, please help me know what to do about my friends. Help me to choose the right.”
As the week went on, Raish looked for Imelda every day during lunch. And every day, she saw Imelda sitting alone. Raish felt sad for her. She wanted to invite Imelda to sit at their table, but could she stand up to Julia and Bituin? Raish just didn’t know what to do.
One day Raish saw Imelda walk by their table. “Look at the new girl,” Julia said loudly. “Her lunch is wrapped in a banana leaf. Gross!”
Bituin laughed. “Her family doesn’t even have money to buy a lunchbox.”
Imelda bit her lip. She started walking faster.
Raish looked at the CTR ring on her finger. She did want to choose the right. Then something else popped into her mind. It was what Sister Aquino had said in Primary. Remember who you are and what you stand for. She wanted to always be kind and stand for the right.
Raish turned to her friends. “Please stop,” she said. “Imelda’s not doing anything to you. Just leave her alone.”
Julia gave Raish a mean look.
Raish stood up. “I’m going to sit with Imelda,” she said. She carried her food to the empty table where Imelda sat. Imelda looked surprised.
“Hi,” Raish said. “I’m sorry we haven’t been very nice to you. I want to be your friend.”
Imelda smiled. “Thanks,” she said softly.
Raish smiled back. She was glad she could be Imelda’s friend. And she was glad that she chose the right.

My name is Claudio Lico Villa, I have been a member of the Church for 11 years and belong to the Consuelo Branch, San Pedro Dominican Republic District.
I was born in 1982 in the province of Seibo, Dominican Republic. When I was three months old, my parents gave me to my grandmother to raise. At eight years old we left Seibo, and I was not able to finish school there. A few years later with very limited means I began working because of a need and a desire to be independent. Although this was long before I would join the Church, the self-reliance principles were ingrained in my heart.
“The Lord has declared, ‘It is my purpose to provide for my saints’. This revelation is a promise from the Lord that He will provide temporal blessings and open the door of self-reliance, which is the ability for us to provide the necessities of life for ourselves and our family members”.
I knew I wanted to be independent and could be. I had to work. At the age of 14, I started working in a mill to be able to support myself and to help my grandmother who gave me all the love in the world. I finished high school and started my first business, looking for any items I could find to sell on the street in my neighborhood. Eventually I was able to sell dishes and tableware. A few years later, after working with a friend in his hair salon, I started my own hair salon.
At the age of twenty-seven, I was diagnosed with eye cancer. When I thought all was lost and without any purpose in living, two missionaries came to my home. I had always been God-fearing, so I listened to the lessons. I struggled to make up my mind, but after three months I was baptized. My life with this disease has not been easy. I walk with my cane everywhere. I continue with medication and treatment. I have remained true to what I have come to know as the Lord’s self-reliance principles. I support myself with a business selling sheets and household items, plus help from the government and the generous members of our Church.
I can say today that my strength comes from the knowledge I have of Jesus Christ. I thank those missionaries who came to me. The Church is my family. I invite everyone to know Jesus Christ who brings hope and love to our lives.

Maybe you have felt similar as your efforts at sharing the gospel have seemed to come to naught. Ross Pooley of the Bridlington Ward felt so as he came to the end of his two-year mission to Scotland. Speaking to his Mission President he said, “I was very emotional and expressed my love for my mission, but also some feeling of regret in failing to baptise during my two years of service.”

Fast forward forty years and the picture looks very different. Thinking about a family he taught while on his mission, but who never committed to baptism, he decided to look them up. Deeply religious and long-time investigators of the Church, they started to attend Latter-day Saint meetings in 1999 while living in Independence, Missouri and twenty years later were baptised.
While serving in Dundee, Ross and his companion reactivated a young man and his mother. “I didn’t realise the impact until ten years after my mission when I met him at a reunion of all British missionaries. He had served a mission in America and baptised twenty-four people, was married with children and working at the Church offices in Frankfurt.”
Another great man that Ross worked with sadly stopped attending church many years later and was excommunicated. “On trying to keep up with people from those days, I found out from members that he had returned and through communication with him, I was able to be with him in the Preston Temple on the day his endowment was restored for him.”
Shortly after returning from his mission Ross went to work for a packaging and printing company in West London. During break times the men would meet in a smoke-filled room to play darts. Ross chose to stay at his workstation and read the Book of Mormon. One of the female packers asked him why he didn’t join the others and Ross took the opportunity to tell her about the word of wisdom and shared gospel principles with her. Not long after that conversation he changed jobs.
A couple of years later, while serving as a bishop, he received information about a new family moving into his ward. He felt he knew the name and to his delight found it to be that of the lady with whom he’d had the gospel discussion. Along with her husband and son she had joined the Church not long after her breaktime discussion with Ross.
Years later in York, whilst serving as a home teacher with his son, they were assigned to a less active family who would not let them into their home. On birthdays and at Christmas they would leave gifts and cards hoping for an opportunity to teach in their home. One day, as they went out to visit others, they felt prompted to try once more. As they knocked on the door, their son informed them that the family were all at the hospital where their daughter was giving birth. Quickly buying flowers and a card they headed to the hospital to offer any support or help they could give the family. Because of this they were able to minister to the family who gradually returned to activity.
Ross said, “As I reflect on the many experiences I have had in sharing the gospel, I wonder what effect it has had on those people. There may be in our lives hearts that have been changed without us even knowing. Each of us is placed with opportunities to further His plan. There is no accident as to where we live and who we meet. We are all involved in Heavenly Father’s plan and should take every opportunity to share the gospel at all times and in all places. He will make the changes in the lives of His children at the best time for their progress, whether it be in this life or in the spirit world.”
Samuel Smith felt he had been a failure, but the one Book of Mormon he managed to give away made its way into the hands of Brigham Young, who passed it to Heber C Kimball. We too can see amazing results if we but try.

My dad had been doing a lot of family history work. I loved hearing about my ancestors who were pioneers, ancestors who fought in the American Revolutionary War, and ancestors who had been kings and knights in Europe.
“How would you like to come to the Family History Library with me on Saturday?” Dad asked one day.
“Sure!” I couldn’t wait to see for myself the royal names on our pedigree chart.
We arrived in Salt Lake City and enjoyed the summer morning sunshine as we walked to the library. I became more and more excited the closer we got. There inside that big building were the names and stories of my own family—pioneers, soldiers, knights, and all.
Once inside, Dad pulled up a couple of chairs in front of a computer. We sat down, and he began navigating through databases to show me where our family tied into a royal line.
“Hmmm.” His forehead furrowed. “I can’t seem to find it today,” he finally said.
I was very disappointed. We spent the rest of the morning looking through books that held stories of my pioneer ancestors. I enjoyed that too, but I still wanted to learn about my other ancestors.
“Don’t worry,” Dad said. “We’ll come back next weekend.”
The week flew by, and soon Dad and I were sitting in front of a computer in the Family History Library again. This time, Dad said, “Aha! Found it.”
He scrolled through names of kings and queens from all over Europe recorded there in my family history! There were so many names and dates that it would take many days to get them all into our family history software. “We’ll have to come back a lot to get all the information we need,” I said.
A woman working on the computer next to us glanced over and saw what we were doing. “I’m related to that line too,” she said. “I’ve been working here every day to get information about those ancestors.” Within minutes, she copied all of her information onto a disk and handed it to Dad.
As we walked back to the car, I thought hard. “Heavenly Father must really want us to find our ancestors, don’t you think, Dad?”
He smiled. “I think you’re right. If we had found the ancestors we were looking for last week, we may not have met our new friend here today. And had we not met her, we would not have been able to find so many of our ancestors so quickly.”
I knew that Heavenly Father had helped us discover almost 1,000 years’ worth of family history in one morning. He loves our ancestors as much as He loves us. We needed to help them just as He had helped us—by finding their names, learning about their lives, and making sure their temple work was done. Someday I will meet them, and we can be an eternal family.

Academic conferences provide an important setting for contributing to religious freedom. Let me describe a few incidents that have grown out of this type of activity. Each fall for the past several years we have held an international conference at BYU dealing with religious freedom. The minister of justice from Peru attended one of these two or three years ago. At the time the Church had just learned that it had exhausted missionary quotas for the year in Peru. A Church official working with visas mentioned this to the minister of justice during a break at the conference. He was quite surprised that such a quota existed at all and indicated he would check into the matter when he returned home. Within a few weeks there were no more missionary quotas in Peru.

Missionaries had always been my heroes. Since my baptism, I wanted to be like them. I promised Heavenly Father that when I got a job I would save money and serve a mission. As I moved up in my job, I began to rationalize about the need to serve a full-time mission. I said to myself that since I supported my mother and my grandmother every month from my salary, I could continue working and not fulfilling my promise and God would understand. One evening, I read in Matthew chapter 19:29, where the Savior said, "And every one that hath forsaken houses, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands, for my name's sake, shall receive an hundredfold, and shall inherit everlasting life." This scripture sank deep into my heart. I knew the Lord would never lie to his people, and I put my faith in Him and decided to serve a fulltime mission. I got my mission call signed by President Spencer W. Kimball.

My friend Melinda and I were trying to decide who to share a batch of freshly baked cookies with. After a minute of thinking, we both looked at each other and said, “Sister Cobabe!” She had been our Mia Maid adviser, and I often baby-sat her two young children. She was one of our favorite people.
We wrapped the cookies up and wrote a short note. It read: “We think you are a wonderful person. Thanks for all you have done. We hope you have a wonderful day. Love, Wendi and Melinda.”
We left the cookies on the doorstep, rang the doorbell, and ran, leaving our surprise on the Cobabes’ porch.
In Young Women class the next week, Sister Cobabe approached me and handed me a card. I walked over to Melinda, and we read the card together. It said:
“I wanted to thank you both for the cookies. They were so good! I also wanted you both to know that I think the love you show to me and others is wonderful. I really needed a lift the day you brought the card and the cookies over. The next day, I had a death in my family. It was such a comfort knowing someone was thinking of me. Always remember you deserve only the best in life. Love you both, Sister Cobabe.”
I felt a warm feeling blanket my heart. A large smile crept onto my face. We had really helped her.
Melinda and I recalled that her name had seemed to occur to both of us out of nowhere. Now we realized that we had received a prompting to give the cookies to her.
My heart swelled as I read the note again. Even though it was only a small gesture of kindness, Sister Cobabe had really needed it. The Lord had used me to help someone else.

Whoa, your painting is really cool!
Thanks! It’s a golden lion tamarin. It’s a kind of monkey that lives in the Atlantic Forest. It has orange fur, and—
Sorry. I always talk too much. I’m not good at making friends.
Yes, you are! You just made one. Her name is Margo. That’s me.
You’re new here, right? What’s your name?
I’m Julia.
Tell me more about your monkey! I love animals. I want to be a veterinarian someday.
Really? Me too!
Then you should meet my parrot, Kiwi! And my brother Paolo. He’s a good artist, like you.
That would be fun!
Illustrations by Katie McDee

In my high school media class, we heard about a video contest where a popular music group would come and perform at the winning high school’s prom. Some other students and I made a video and entered it on behalf of a neighboring high school that was recently destroyed by a tornado. Even though the other school is our rival in sports, we wanted to help give something special to those students who had lost so much.
Our video won the national contest. It felt amazing to help this school. It made me feel good to know that my classmates and I could make a difference in others’ lives.
Luke G., Indiana, USA

The youth of the American Servicemen’s District of Okinawa had no idea that Brother Toshimitsu Kina’s broken leg would lead them to fighting off nasty snakes and wielding big knives, but that’s exactly what happened when they volunteered to help him with his sugar cane harvest.
The crop had to be brought in, so the district members took to the fields, learning how to cut the cane using “kamas,” and how to avoid “Habu” snakes. But would you believe they had a great time doing it? “It’s hard work, but it feels good,” said Leslie Sousley, 15.
“This harvest is pretty fun because we’re helping someone, we get to eat sugar cane, and it’s a new experience,” said Troy Baker, 13. What could be sweeter?