Gospel Story Finder

Photograph by Christina Smith
When 17-year-old Parker J. was preparing for his senior wrestling championship, he trained for any maneuver his opponents could throw at him. But although he’s been building his strength with wrestling, football, shot put, and even accordion for years, Parker’s most important preparation had nothing to do with physical muscle. It took spiritual strength to make this tournament a win in God’s eyes.
“Feeling God’s love always fueled me,” Parker says. But for some reason, he wasn’t feeling very close to God in the weeks leading up to the tournament. In the past, he says, “gratitude toward God really helped me strengthen my testimony, so I didn’t know if it was me just not being as grateful or if God was actually withdrawing His hand a little bit.”
The plan for tournament week was simple: Parker’s team would take a bus on Thursday to compete in the tournament on Friday and Saturday. Unfortunately, a nasty snowstorm complicated things. The tournament got pushed back a day, meaning wrestlers who won their Saturday matches would have to compete on Sunday. And Parker’s skill and strength gave him a high chance of making it that far.
Sitting on the bus with his teammates, Parker knew he had a choice to make: wrestle in the Sunday finals or honor the Sabbath. And since he would graduate after this year, it was his last chance to wrestle with his team.
“It was a really tough moment for me to make that decision. I just hadn’t been feeling God’s hand those weeks before the tournament,” he says.
But remembering past experiences with God gave Parker the strength he needed to decide. “Though I hadn’t felt His hand recently, I knew that I had felt His hand before. I promise every week when I take the sacrament to always remember Him, not just when I feel like it. So I decided not to wrestle on Sunday.”
I promise every week when I take the sacrament to always remember Him, not just when I feel like it.
Parker showed up Saturday morning knowing he wouldn’t wrestle in the finals on Sunday, even if he won every Saturday match. But surprisingly, he didn’t feel disappointed anymore. “I was at peace with my decision,” he says. “It was interesting, because the whole season I had just felt so much pressure to win. But at that meet, I was just happy to be there with the people I love. I just wanted to do my best.”
And he did. Parker’s practice paid off, and he won every match that Saturday. But as he forfeited the Sunday match, Parker felt like he won something far more valuable. “That first-place medal would have gotten dusty on my shelf,” he says. “But the clarity and peace I got from choosing God and being able to recognize His hand was just so worth it.”
Parker’s true victory wasn’t in any medal or trophy. It was in choosing God and being able to recognize His hand.
Parker says, “This experience made me realize what I was capable of. A lot of youth don’t believe in their ability to make difficult choices. I’ve been there. But you always have the choice to do the right thing, even if you’ve messed up in the past. God knows you and believes in you. He knows you have the ability to do it.”
You always have the choice to do the right thing, even if you’ve messed up in the past.
Soon after Parker’s spiritual victory, he received his mission call to Romania. He knows that choosing to keep God’s commandments will have a positive influence on his mission and the rest of his life. He says, “Now I know that setting aside one day of the week for God blesses you triple, quadruple more. It’s not ‘Well, I forfeited this final tournament, so I’m going to heaven.’ It’s that my ability to serve, sacrifice, and be closer to God has increased.”
Parker is excited to serve the Lord as a full-time missionary in Romania.
The next time Parker has to wrestle with an important decision, he’s more prepared than ever. “Not a lot of people will have the chance to forfeit the final match of a state wrestling championship,” Parker admits. “The applicable part is sacrifice. Being able to just let something go for God and dedicate it to Him gave me a sense of power that I’ve never had before. God knows you better than you know yourself.” He says, “God will allow you to experience situations that are difficult but never impossible to overcome with His help.”
God knows you better than you know yourself.
Find bonus content about Parker’s story on the Gospel Living app this month.

The next week they had a zone conference. They met in a ward meetinghouse 40 miles away. President Snowden was there and interviewed each missionary.

Scott was one of the first to be interviewed. President Snowden was intensely interested in the work being done in the new area.

Before Scott left after the interview, he asked if he could talk to President Snowden about something that was bothering him.

“President, what do you say to someone who asks if you know Jesus Christ?”

“I guess I’d need to know the circumstance.”

Scott described the incident.

“Why does the question still haunt me?” Scott asked.

“Is it such a difficult question? Since you were a child, you’ve been taking the sacrament, promising to always remember the Savior.”

“I felt such an emptiness when that man kept hammering away with that one question. Why?”

“You have a notebook with goals written in it, don’t you? Do you have any goals that relate to the Savior?”

“In a way, they all do.”

“Let me see if I can explain. The Savior once asked the question, ‘What manner of men ought ye to be?’ Do you remember the Savior’s answer?”

“He said that we should be like him.”

“That’s right. Do you have any goals to become more like the Savior?”

“No, sir.”

“What if you tried to radiate love for others the way Jesus did? What if you tried to carry out your priesthood assignments the way the Savior would? Do you think it would make a difference in your life?”

“I’ll never be like him.”

“Wouldn’t it make a difference if you tried?”

President Snowden came around the desk and put his arm on Scott’s shoulder. “We have mission rules. We have commandments to obey. We have counsel from our leaders to follow. But the final requirement is to learn to follow the Master. Can you put a goal like that in your little notebook?”

They had lunch in the cultural hall after the morning meeting. As he sat down at a table, Scott’s companion called over to him, “Hello, oh hairless one!”
The elders within hearing range smirked.

“My companion is the only one in the mission who takes 30 minutes to wash his face. It’s because it goes clear to the back of his neck.”
More laughter.
Scott ate quickly and left. He found the chapel open and vacant, so he sat down and began reading the scriptures.

“Looks like you’re busy as usual.” Scott looked up to see the wife of his mission president. “Are you all right?” she asked with kindness.

“Do you know any way to make hair grow back?” he asked her.

“The elders can be cruel, can’t they?”

He felt the pent up frustration pouring forth as he talked to her about his problems.
She listened to him attentively, and just talking about it made him feel better.
Missionaries began to file into the chapel for the meeting. Before she left to go up on the stand, she showed him a book she was reading. “It’s by Brother Stephen Covey. Look at his picture on the inside cover. You can see he’s bald, but do you see any fear or shame on his face?”

“No,” Scott said, looking at the picture.

“He’s a very positive man and, I think, handsome too. You know, Elder, you really have a nicely shaped head.”

“I do?” Scott said.

“Sure you do. It’d be a shame to hide that with hair.”
The next morning Scott cut his hair very short.

“What have you done?” his companion gasped as he came out of the bathroom.

“I’ve decided to quit hiding my good looking head.”
Before he knew it, there were only six months left of his mission. Scott felt that there still was so much to learn. For the first time in his life, the scriptures seemed to come alive for him. He cherished reading the New Testament.
He was beginning to feel a closeness to the Savior.
Now, as they traveled in the car, Scott avoided the usual light conversation and instead talked enthusiastically about Jesus.

“You know,” he said one morning as they drove to their tracting area, “I think the Apostles were probably always trying to keep the Savior on a schedule. I think they had so many miles to travel to get to a place to stay, and they didn’t want to travel at night. But there were so many interruptions.
“One time Jesus and the Apostles were going to Jericho. There was a blind man sitting along the road, maybe begging. He heard the sound of the crowd coming. Someone told him that Jesus was coming. He began shouting for Jesus. The people told him to shut up, but he yelled even louder. I think the people traveling with the Savior were really mad because they wanted to make good time. If it had happened in modern times, they’d all have been looking at their watches. They were behind schedule.
“But the Savior stopped. He asked them to bring the man to him. They did. He asked the man what he wanted. The man said that he wanted to be able to see. Jesus looked with compassion on the man and healed him.”
Scott drove in silence for several blocks. “That man was probably considered by many to be the scum of the earth. Jesus could have walked away from him—like I walked away from a man once—but he loved others so deeply.”
Four weeks later they baptized a family of four. Then the brother of the wife of the first family joined. Then his wife. Then his parents. Soon they had ten members meeting in a home for a sacrament meeting.
Then it was time for another zone conference. It was a rainy April day as they got on the interstate to travel to the conference.
Scott was driving. As he rounded a curve, he saw a car pulled over to the side of the road. A young mother wrestled with a tire jack while two small children peered out the back of the station wagon at their dripping mother.
Scott slowed down.
“We’ll be late if we stop,” his companion warned.
“I know.”
“If we help, we’ll get wet.”
“I know,” he said, pulling off the road.
“Then why are you stopping?”
“She needs some help.”
“Maybe it’s a trap. How do you know there’s not a couple of guys hiding, ready to take our money?”
“We don’t have any money,” Scott smiled.
Scott stepped outside into the pouring rain. “Can I help?”
“I can’t figure out how to work the jack.”
“Why don’t you get out of the rain? No use both of us getting wet.”
He worked quickly changing the tire. As he worked, he realized that he was singing. He looked up once and saw the faces of the two children pressed against the back window of the station wagon. He winked at them and made a silly face. They both giggled.
When he was finished, he opened the back door of the station wagon and put the flat tire and jack in the back.
The woman got out to thank him. “Can I pay you something?”
“No, but there is something you can do,” he said, running back to his car. He picked up a copy of the Book of Mormon and ran it back to her.
“Read this,” he said, thrusting it into her hand.
Then he turned and ran back to the car.
He had never felt so happy in his life.
“You look like a drowned rat,” his companion complained as they continued down the road.
“At least my hair isn’t wet,” he answered, smiling.
“I suppose you know that we’re going to be late for the meeting.”
“I’m sorry for making you late. It couldn’t be helped.”
“Yes it could. You could’ve passed her by. Someone else would have come along.”
“Will that lady ever have a better reason for reading the Book of Mormon?” Scott asked with a wide grin.
“She doesn’t even live in our area. Even if she’s baptized, someone else will get the credit.”
Scott found himself humming.
“Why are you so happy?”
“Because I’ve just done something that the Savior would have done.”
They arrived a few minutes late. Scott’s suit was soaked. Sister Snowden saw them come in and hurried over to Scott. She wouldn’t let him stay in wet clothes. She talked to the custodian, who found an extra pair of coveralls for Scott to wear while his suit dried. Scott sat in the back of the chapel and listened to the conference.
President Snowden interviewed Scott while he was still in the borrowed coveralls.
“How’s my goal setter?”
“President, I’ve changed some of my goals. I’ve replaced some of them for one goal—to try to become more like the Savior.”
“That’s a lifelong goal,” President Snowden said.
Scott agreed. “President, I’ve found out that it’s true what you said. It’s not where we serve; it’s how we serve.”
A few minutes later, President Snowden asked, “How would you feel about serving as a zone leader for the remainder of your mission?”
“I don’t need it anymore. I’m content where I am, in our little branch.”
“It is the will of the Lord that you labor as a zone leader.”
“I’ll serve wherever he wants me.”
A few more baptisms, a few more meetings, a few more washings of the same eight white shirts and it was over.
He walked back into the mission home for his last night before flying home. President Snowden had it arranged so that the missionaries going home and the missionaries just coming into the mission field could have a testimony meeting together the night before they went their separate ways.
“I guess this has been the happiest 18 months of your life. Right?” one of the new elders asked him after the testimony meeting.
“What?” Scott asked, coming out of his deep thoughts.
“The happiest 18 months of your life—that’s what all the elders say in our ward when they return.”
“Happy?” Scott said. “Yes, I guess it has been happy.”
“You’ve lost all your hair, haven’t you? How are you going to find anyone to marry?”
“I’ll set a goal, Elder,” Scott said with a smile.
“They tell me you were a zone leader. How long did it take you to be a zone leader?”
“Why do you want to know?” Scott asked.
“Oh, nothing.”
“I hope you’re not planning on that as some kind of a goal.”
“I want to succeed on my mission,” the elder said with determination.
“Look,” Scott said firmly, “let me sum up 18 months of my life. Jesus Christ stands at the head of this church. We are commissioned by the Savior to teach the gospel. He loves the people in this mission. You must focus your entire energy on serving Jesus by loving and serving the people.”
“I know that already,” the new elder said confidently.
“Don’t worry about artificial goals—like being a zone leader. That kind of a goal has no place in this work.”
“Sure, you can say that,” the new elder said. “You are a zone leader. How long did it take you?”
Scott shook his head in frustration. “Elder, you’re going to learn a great deal out here.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve pretty much got the discussions learned already.”
Scott reached out and shook the elder’s hand. “I wasn’t talking about the discussions.”
“You never told me how long it took you before you became a zone leader,” the new elder called after Scott as he ascended the stairs to his room.
Before he went to bed, Scott read 1 Corinthians 13 [1 Cor. 13] and Moroni 7 [Moro. 7].

Her question didn’t exactly startle me, but it was unexpected. While waiting for others to join us to perform temple sealings, we spoke of this and that—about the snow, the chandelier—and then, after a moment, the young woman turned to me and asked, “How long have you been a sealing officiator?”
“I’m beginning my 19th year,” I said.
“And what have you learned?” she asked.
I had no reply at first. I’d never thought that question through.
I searched my mind for possible answers. I thought of saying, “I’ve learned how perfect people can seem here in the temple.”
I thought of answering, “I have learned to appreciate the ordinances themselves—their simplicity, their antiquity, their profundity.”
But I knew she was asking for the essence of my experience. And suddenly I found the words to express what I knew.
“I’ve learned that the basis of eternity is the family,” I said. “The essential purpose of the Church and all that we do is to make it possible for families to be together forever.”
She sat motionless, her eyes meeting mine.
“The ordinances performed in the temple empower people,” I said. “They make eternal family relationships possible. In the temple, I find that family and love are synonymous. That’s what I’ve learned.”
Sensing a need, I turned the question back to her. “What have you learned?” I asked.
Her lip trembled for a moment. “I’ve learned that what you are saying is true,” she said finally. “Family is what the Church—and the temple—are all about. That’s why I’m here—for my family.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“My father was good to me, but my mother died when I was tiny,” she said. “They were never married. When I was 13, my father died. And then I found the gospel—or it found me.”
Her face brightened. “A few months ago I got back from my mission and began the temple work for my father and mother. I was sealed to them for eternity. For the first time, I am whole. Knowing I am sealed to my family gives me a place to be. The day I was sealed to my parents was, for me, the beginning of eternity. I feel so happy when I am here in the temple.”
I looked into her smiling face. Through my tears, I could see hers. Now each time I go to the temple, I think of that sister’s face and of the eternal blessing it is to be sealed to our families forever.

From my infancy I had heard the Word of Wisdom stories about tea and coffee and tobacco, etc. Nearly every Sunday School day and Primary day we sang lustily, I with the other boys:
That the children may live long,
And be beautiful and strong,
Tea and coffee and tobacco they despise,
Drink no liquor, and they eat
But a very little meat;
They are seeking to be great and good and wise.
We sang it time and time again until it became an established part of my vocabulary and my song themes, but more especially my life’s plan. Occasionally some respected speaker said he had never tasted the forbidden things we sang against and then I made up my mind. Never would I use these forbidden things the prophets preached against. That decision was firm and unalterable. I would not and did not deviate.
In 1937 my wife and I were touring in Europe. In France I sat at a banquet table of the Rotary International convention in a fashionable hotel. The large, spacious banquet room held hundreds of people. The many waiters moved about the tables, and at every place, besides plenteous silver, linen, and fancy serving dishes, were seven wine glasses. No one was watching me. The temptation nudged me: Shall I drink it or at least sip it? No one who cares will know. Here was quite a temptation. Shall I or shall I not?
Then the thought came: I had made a firm resolution as a boy that I would never touch the forbidden things. I had already lived a third of a century firm and resolute. I would not break my record now. …
Now is the time to set your life’s goals. Now is the time to set your standards firmly and then hold to them throughout your life.

About fifteen years ago a large flock of quail selected four blue spruce trees near the side of our house for their nightly roosting place. Our family decided to feed the quail every day during the winter months so they would live with us permanently. In back of our house we have a patio and a large lawn. Glass doors open directly to the back from our living room, and we always have a perfect view of our patio and lawn. We decided the patio would be an ideal place to feed quail and any other birds that came during the winter months.
I built a bird feeder about six feet high so snowbirds and other small birds could enjoy eating where they felt more secure off the ground. Each day we scattered milo on the patio for the quail, and we also put milo in the bird feeder for the smaller birds.
Shortly before sunrise a number of male quail would begin to crow and give their whistles and commands. The flock of quail soon grew to about seventy-five birds and would fly down from the blue spruce trees to the patio for their morning feeding. On days when there was no snow on our back lawn, the quail would finish their meal and then would usually lounge around on the lawn for about two hours to sun themselves. Then they would go out our back gate and up on the hills to spend the day gathering seeds.
Shortly before nightfall the large flock of quail would return through our east gate, pick a few seeds from the lawn, and then come down to the patio to have their final fill of milo before flying into the blue spruce trees to roost for the night. What a joyful experience our family had day after day as we watched these birds!

During the Christmas season last year, I found myself praying for a lot of things for myself. But as I prayed on the night of 23 December, I felt something wonderful inside, an indescribable joy. The feeling grew as I continued my prayer. I didn’t say anything about the things I wanted. In fact, my prayer changed completely; I started praying for other people, for all those around me, and I asked Heavenly Father to forgive me for my selfishness. When I finished, I realized that an hour had gone by. I had never felt the Spirit so strongly.
From this experience, I learned that Christmas is a time to give, not to receive. I didn’t give anything material to anyone, but I later realized that my humble prayer had been answered. Almost everyone I had prayed for on that night, when my heart was overflowing with joy, received what I had asked for.

What a comfort it is to know that if we live our lives in righteousness, sealed to one another, we can spend the eternities together.
On August 27, 1982, my brother, Howard Pack, died of a heart attack while running a cross-country race. At the age of 17, he was taken from our family of 13. We love him so very much. He was an example to us all.
Howard exemplified the words, “Don’t wait to be a great man; be a great boy.” Howard accomplished things, not to be noticed by the world, but to better himself. He completed all the requirements for his Eagle Scout Award yet never bothered to turn in the necessary papers. The recognition just wasn’t important to him.
An excellent debater, Howard carried the district team to a division championship. The local paper heralded the news, but somehow they listed his name as “Harland Pike.” Howard’s response was simply, “Oh well, I know who I am.” What an assurance for us to “know who we are.”
Howard’s list of achievements includes playing the clarinet, being seminary class president, winning trophies in debate and speech, making the honor roll, and being listed in Who’s Who among American High School Students. But through everything, his family came first. Though busy, Howard would make time to pick me up from work or dry the tears of a younger brother and sister. Howard honored his priesthood and kept the Lord’s commandments. In a recent conversation with mother, Howard assured her, “Mother, I am worthy to serve a mission.” When as a young boy, Howard cut his face, a clerk asked if he had received the scratch from fist fighting. Howard responded, “I don’t fight!”
Yet, for a good cause, Howard gave all that he had. He spent several hours of piano practice so that he could play a few hymns for seminary. When others smoked, drank, or told lewd stories, he walked away from it. Howard loved the Lord and is now serving him in the heavens.
How I love my younger brother. Although I am two years older, I looked up to him. He was such a good friend. We mourn the passing of a loved one, but my family knows that “families are forever.”

A few years ago, when Elder Merrill J. Bateman of the Presidency of the Seventy was in Japan, the missionaries introduced him to a young Japanese brother who had just joined the Church. He was from a non-Christian background. When he met the missionaries, he was interested in the message, but he could not understand or feel the need for a Savior, and he didn’t have a witness regarding the gospel. One day the missionaries decided to show him a film about the Atonement. The young man saw the film, but still he didn’t have a witness.

“The next morning he went to work. He worked in an optician’s shop making eyeglasses. … An elderly woman came in. He remembered her coming in a few weeks before. She had broken her glasses. She needed a new pair. When she had come in earlier, she didn’t have enough money and had gone away to save more in order to purchase the new glasses. As she came in that day, she again showed him her spectacles and showed him the money that she now had. He realized that she didn’t have enough yet. Then a thought came to him: I have some money. I don’t need to tell her. I can make up the difference. So he told her the money she had was adequate, took her glasses, [and] made an appointment for her to return when he had finished making the spectacles. …

“She returned later. He had the glasses ready for her. He handed them to her, and she put them on [and exclaimed] ‘… I see. I see.’ Then she began to cry. At that point, a burning sensation began to grow within his bosom and swelled within him. He said, ‘… I understand. I understand.’ He began to cry. Out the door he ran, looking for the missionaries. When he found them, he said, ‘I see! My eyes have been opened! I know that Jesus is the Son of God. I know the stone was rolled away from the tomb and on that glorious Easter morning He arose from the dead. He can make up the difference in my life when I fall short.’”2

As a small boy on the farm during the searing heat of the summer, I remember my grandmother Mary Finlinson cooking our delicious meals on a hot woodstove. When the wood box next to the stove became empty, Grandmother would silently pick up the box, go out to refill it from the pile of cedar wood outside, and bring the heavily laden box back into the house. I was so insensitive and interested in the conversation in the kitchen, I sat there and let my beloved grandmother refill the kitchen wood box. I feel ashamed of myself and have regretted my omission for all of my life. I hope someday to ask for her forgiveness.

I might mention here an experience of a young couple, graduates of this university. This young lady and her husband (they had two children, a tiny girl and a baby two weeks old) graduated, as many of you will, and he had a business opportunity in Salt Lake City. So they moved to Salt Lake City.

They, of course, were active in the Church, and Bishop Bowles—it was in the Belvedere Ward—called them in the first week they were there. The bishop said, “We’re building a new building and we need all the help we can get. Are you willing to serve?” They both said they would. And he said, “Would you like to suggest where you’d like to serve?”

That’s a little unusual in the Church, but she was happy for that. She was a teacher. In fact, she taught here for a quarter or two. She said she’d like to teach. She’d like to teach in the Sunday School or in the MIA. So the following Sunday she was sustained as a second counselor in the presidency of the Relief Society! Now, she protested and used the word shocked, and this is a quote: “That organization is for my mother, not for me.” She said she had no experience, and I quote again, “And I have no desire to learn.”

Well, the bishop prevailed, as bishops will, and she answered the call. They held Relief Society in a dismal room in the basement of the chapel, because of the remodeling and construction. It was in the furnace room. While the furnace was on it was terrible, and when the furnace was off it was intolerable. Her children caught cold. On at least two occasions she went to the bishop and asked to be released. On both occasions the bishop said he’d think about it.

Finally, she was in a very serious automobile accident. After some period of treatment, she was recovering at home. Part of the injury was a terrible laceration of her face. This became infected and they called a doctor one Sunday night. He made some preparation for some further attention, but he said, “I think we can’t touch this surgically; it’s too close to the nerve in your face.” He gave her what attention he could and explained how grave the situation was.

It was as the doctor was leaving that late Sunday night when the bishop appeared at the door, after a long busy day, as Sundays will be for a bishop. He said, “I was just on my way home from some interviews and saw the light on and wondered if there was trouble here.” This woman, in her agony, when the bishop said, “Is there anything we can do for you?” answered from her pain and with tears, “Yes, Bishop. Now, will you release me from the Relief Society?” He said he would pray about it. And the answer came back: “Sister Spafford, I still don’t get the feeling that you should be released from the Relief Society.”

This great and lovely woman, who for many years has presided over our Relief Society in the Church, was tested in those early days of her life. I think that something like that can come to many of us, most of us, when we’re being tested, as it were.

Ted Jones grabbed the bounding basketball and headed back toward the foul line. If he made this basket, he’d go home. Glancing up, he saw Coach Turner watching him. Ted hoped that the coach had seen him at his best and would let him play sometime when it really counted.
Ted blanked everything from his mind but the orange rim suspended high on the backboard. He was short, barely five feet, and made his shots from the foul line by standing with one foot back and almost lunging forward as he used both hands to push the ball from his chest toward the basket. He did so now, and the ball swished through the net.
Turning to head for the showers, Ted saw his two best friends standing by the bench. The three boys usually walked home together.
“Everybody else is gone,” Danny said. “I don’t know why you spend so much time practicing every day. You’re too short to play basketball, anyway.”
“Yeah, and too skinny!” Keefus shook his head and then burst into laughter.
Ted answered good-naturedly, “You guys laugh now. When I’m the star of the Yellow Jackets, your tune will change.”
Ted loved basketball. Even though he knew he’d probably never be very tall—both of his parents were short—he thought that he could master one part of the game. Each day he stayed after regular practice until he made at least twelve foul shots in a row, and he dribbled over, under, and around all the obstacles he could set up. Ever since he’d gotten his first basketball the Christmas when he was eight years old, he’d made Danny and Keefus—and anyone else he could find—double- and triple-team him to try to get the ball away. He wasn’t fast, but he was quick and almost always got the ball to the open player.
“How are you planning on being a hero?” Keefus asked later as the boys headed for home. “None of us have played for more than twenty seconds in a game unless it’s been so lopsided that it wouldn’t matter.”
Ted answered, “Maybe it won’t be this year, but I’ll be ready whenever it happens.”
“I sure wish it would be tomorrow night,” Danny said. “We had such a lousy start this year that I never thought that we’d even be in the intramural tournament!”
“Yeah,” Ted agreed. “It’s down to us and the Panthers—but they’re unbeaten.”
“Boy, would I like to blow them plumb out of the gym!” Keefus declared.
“I’d just settle for a win,” Ted replied, turning up the walk to his house. “See you guys tomorrow night.”
Nervous tension was as thick as pea soup in the Yellow Jackets’ locker room the next night. The starters were pacing back and forth while the rest of the team exchanged teasing remarks.
“Hey, Michael!” Keefus shouted above the banter, “you’re gonna walk a hole in the carpet!”
Ted looked at the tall center for the Yellow Jackets. Michael was the team’s high scorer. They depended on him to pull them through.
“OK,” Coach Turner called, “gather around.”
The team, dressed in black and gold, huddled around the coach and listened to his familiar pep talk. When they ran onto the floor, the Panthers, in purple and white, were already warming up. Ted got in line behind Danny to start the lay-up drill.
“They look as sharp as ever,” Danny muttered, glancing over his shoulder at the other team.
Ted was determined to think positively. “They can still be beaten, though. We’ll show everybody how much we’ve improved in the last few weeks.”
The five starters formed a circle around Coach Turner for final instructions. Ted took a seat on the end of the bench as the two starting teams met in the middle of the floor. The Panther center matched Michael’s six feet, and Ted wished for the hundredth time that he were tall.
From the first the game was fast-paced and fairly even. By halftime it was evident that it was a shooting match between Michael and a tall Panther called Irish. There were surprisingly few mistakes, and neither team had gotten into the one-and-one bonus. The only problem was that Michael had three fouls.
The score at the beginning of the second half was 20–17 in favor of the Panthers. When the clock ticked down to the final minute, the Yellow Jackets were trailing, 44–42, and Michael had picked up his fourth foul. The crowd went wild when he stole the ball from the Panthers under the Jackets’ basket and stuffed it over the rim to tie the game.
The Panthers threw the ball in and carefully worked it down to their end of the court, obviously intending to hold the ball for the last shot. Ted watched in dismay as Michael hacked Irish on the arm just as the pass came to him.
“Oh, no!” Keefus said, groaning. “Now he’s out, and the Panthers have the one-and-one!”
Ted’s hopes fell as Irish sank the first foul shot, moving the Panthers ahead by one point. The second shot ricocheted off the backboard into the hands of a Yellow Jacket player. He moved the ball past midcourt and called time-out.
Coach Turner paced the sideline, rubbing the back of his head. Suddenly he barked, “Jones!”
As Ted yanked off his warm-up suit and joined the circle crouched around Coach Turner, the coach was saying, “OK, we’re going to keep the ball in Ted’s hands and try to decoy the others so that he’s clear for a shot at the free-throw line. Ted, if nothing happens by the time the clock is down to six seconds, shoot anyway and we’ll try to get the rebound. That means the rest of you had better be close to the basket—now go get ’em!”
The buzzer sounded, and the teams moved back onto the floor. Darryl threw the ball in to Ted. A Panther guard slapped at the ball, but Ted dribbled around him as if he weren’t there. When another Panther came over to help, Ted passed the ball off. It was quickly returned to him as the clock ticked down: ten seconds, nine, eight, seven, six … Ted took aim and let it fly. The Panther guarding him blocked the shot but slapped him on the arm on the follow-through.
Ted stepped to the foul line amid dead silence. Two seconds showed on the clock. The game was up to him.
I know I can do it, he told himself. I’ve been working hard for a long time for this chance.
He eyed the basket, bounced the ball twice, took aim, and pushed it toward the hoop. The ball hit the inside of the rim, wobbled around it twice, then dropped through the net. The game was tied! And, as far as Ted was concerned, the pressure was off.
Grinning happily, Ted bounced the ball, took careful aim once more, and put up his second shot. The ball never drew iron as it swished through the net. String music!
When the final buzzer sounded, Ted was swarmed by his teammates. Later, as they ran toward the locker room, Coach Turner shouted above the uproar, “I knew you could do it. After watching you practice extra every day, I’ve been waiting for the right time to put you in. It finally came.”

Trials and tests apply to rich and poor alike. Years ago I was asked to perform an operation upon a very wealthy man. A surgical biopsy confirmed that he had an advanced cancer that had spread throughout his body. As I reported this news, his immediate response was to rely upon his wealth. He would go anywhere or do anything to treat his condition. He thought he could buy his way back to health. But he soon passed away. Someone asked, “How much wealth did he leave?” The answer, of course, was, “All of it!”
His priorities were set upon things of the world. His ladder of success had been leaning against the wrong wall. I think of him when I read this scripture: “Behold, your days of probation are past; ye have procrastinated the day of your salvation until it is … too late.”

Stacy’s seventh Christmas was one her family would never forget. It was unforgettable because it was almost so very, very awful.
One autumn day, Stacy’s family had gone for a drive to see the colorful trees. When a truck suddenly came into their lane, Dad swerved to miss it and hit a tree instead. Dad and Mom were fine, and so were Adam and Will. But Stacy was hurt. Dad called for an ambulance to take her to the hospital.
Stacy woke up in the hospital with a bandage on her head and her leg in a cast. She would need to stay in the hospital for a while until she got better.
Stacy shared a room with three girls named Jenny, Tamika, and Kelly. Kelly could get out of bed, so she played games and read stories with the other girls. Stacy was glad to meet new friends in the hospital.
Every day the doctor checked on Stacy. Her leg was healing well, and soon the nurses removed the bandage from her head.
One day Kelly went home. The girls hugged and said good-bye.
“I’m glad you’re well, Kelly,” Stacy said.
“Thanks. Now you and Jenny and Tamika get better too,” Kelly said.
Eventually Stacy was allowed to get out of bed. Walking with crutches was hard, but once she learned to get around on her own she made friends with children in other rooms. There were many children in the hospital, all with different injuries and illnesses. Some were there only a short time, while others had to stay for many months.
In December, Stacy was finally able to go home. “I’m glad I get to go home, but I’m going to miss everyone so much,” Stacy told her parents.
As Christmas drew near, Stacy’s cast was removed, and she worked hard to walk without limping. One night Mom and Dad asked Stacy what she wanted for Christmas.
“There’s really only one thing I want,” Stacy said. “I want to take presents to the children in the hospital who don’t get to go home for Christmas.”
Mom hugged Stacy. “Is that really what you want? You don’t want anything for yourself?”
“That’s really what I want,” Stacy said.
Mom and Dad explained the plan to Will and Adam and added that there wouldn’t be much money left over for family presents.
“That’s OK,” Will said. “I think it’s a good idea.”
The family went shopping and picked out toys, games, and books. Then they wrapped the gifts and piled them in the car.
On Christmas morning, Stacy and her family drove to the hospital. Stacy grinned as she passed out the gifts. Some of her friends had gone home, and now other children were in their beds. Stacy had a gift for each one. Seeing their excitement when they opened their gifts filled Stacy’s heart with joy.
“How do you feel?” Mom asked as they left the children’s wing.
Stacy hugged her. “This might sound funny, but I loved Christmas at the hospital!”

Anthonette Pearson, 14, and her German shepherd puppy Kemper go just about everywhere together—shopping malls, restaurants, parks, etc.

Anthonette is “socializing” Kemper, so he can train as a seeing eye dog when he is 18–20 months old.

When the time comes, it will be difficult for Anthonette to give up her buddy. She’s house-trained him and taught him certain commands as well. “I’ll be giving away a piece of my heart,” she says, “but I’ll also be giving the gift of sight to a blind person.” She knows it’s worth the effort.

Anthonette lives in Chatsworth, California.

Mexico City, 1972: Those Saints came from the deserts. They came from the industrial cities of the north. They came from the small pellittos in the east and west. They came from the tropical coastlines down south in Central America. Throughout the summer those Saints had saved and borrowed and sold whatever they had to try to get together the two hundred pesos per person that was necessary for bus tickets. I’ll just use one illustration. Four busloads came from a very distant area. There was no money left over for food, but that didn’t matter. This group decided that they could fast for the three or four days of the conference. Most of the Saints arriving at the area general conference in Mexico City didn’t have two pesos (about sixteen cents American currency) for a cot, and so they spent those nights on hard floors. But, oh, what an inspiration it was to witness sixteen thousand members of the Church sustain President Harold B. Lee for the first time in a general conference as the President and the prophet, seer, and revelator of the Church! There were so many choice experiences that time will not permit me to relate all of them.

The following year in seminary we studied the New Testament. One morning after I woke up, I began to read about the Savior in Gethsemane. Tears flowed from my eyes as I realized that the drops of blood He shed were for me. How I wished I had never sinned! The words of Isaiah that I had studied the previous year came into my mind: “He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him” (Isaiah 53:5). As I read about the Crucifixion and the Resurrection, my mom came into my room. I shared with her my feelings, my testimony, and my desire for my father to know what I had learned in seminary.
My testimony continued to grow the next year as we read the Doctrine and Covenants. I obtained a testimony that Joseph Smith was a prophet. I also decided to follow his example and ask God if the Church is true. Although I already had conviction in my heart, one afternoon I found myself alone and sincerely prayed. As I did, I realized that the testimony I was asking for had been developing as I studied the scriptures and attended seminary.
The Lord opened my mind and my heart that year, and I understood the Doctrine and Covenants as I never had before. I also learned of the great value of souls (see D&C 18:10–16) and began to share my growing testimony with those who did not know about the gospel, including my father.
I knew that studying the Book of Mormon during my final year of seminary would also fortify my testimony. As I truly studied, I felt Heavenly Father’s love for me. The stories inspired me to the point that all I wanted to do was read the Book of Mormon. I began to take the Book of Mormon to school and would read it during my free time. I also began to discuss what I was reading with my father.
One day after a long conversation with my father about the gospel, I challenged him to read all of the Book of Mormon. I testified that, like me, he could receive a testimony.
I am happy to say that my father read the Book of Mormon. When he did, he knew the Church is true and was eventually baptized! My family is now preparing to be sealed in the temple. I know that attending seminary and reading the scriptures helped me develop my own testimony, and I know that they bless families.

My friends and I rode our bikes down the dirt hill in my backyard every day but Sunday. But one Sunday, I rode my bike down the dirt hill. I didn’t have my helmet on. I hit a rock, causing me to wreck and almost knocking me out. I felt awful inside and out for what I had done.
When my parents found out what had happened, we all prayed together. Soon I felt better. I learned a great lesson in keeping the Sabbath Day holy, obeying my parents, and realizing that Heavenly Father is watching over me. He gives me a warm, soft feeling when I do something right. But when I do something wrong, He gives me a prickly, cold feeling. He can help with any problem and always answers prayers.
Jake Barker, age 7Sparks, Nevada

Bro. Tew: Years ago we moved to Oklahoma so that I could attend graduate school. While there, a wonderful Relief Society sister showed care for us. Like most student families, money was tight, but twice a year we would get into our car to drive 1000 miles to see our family in Utah. As we got our car loaded up to go on our trips, she would bring over an ice chest full of food to last the journey. She was a second mother to us as we lived far from our own parents. We still feel close to her because of the small and simple acts she did for our family.

The McKay family loved music and learned to play instruments. President McKay’s son Lawrence played the violin beautifully.
President McKay: What a beautiful song.
Years later, when Lawrence became a husband and a father, he sold the violin to help make ends meet.
Lawrence: Mildred and I need the money, Father, but how I hated to give up my violin! Playing it often comforted me when I was far from home.
President McKay didn’t hesitate to solve the problem.
President McKay: I understand my son recently sold you this violin. I’m here to buy it back—I prize it too greatly to let it leave our family.
President McKay composed a poem about how much he valued his son’s musical talent and the memories they had made playing music together. A few months later, he put the violin and poem in the mail.
Lawrence: Look, Mildred, a package from my father. What do you think it is?
When Lawrence recognized his beloved violin, tears streamed down his face. He played all of his favorite songs late into the night and vowed never to part with his father’s precious gift again.

As another example, take Willard Richards—educated, refined, a doctor of medicine. When Joseph and Hyrum surrendered themselves to the governor of Illinois and were placed in Carthage Jail, a handful of the brethren went with them. By the afternoon of June 27, 1844, most had left to take care of certain matters of business, leaving only John Taylor and Willard Richards with the Prophet and his brother Hyrum. That afternoon following dinner the jailer, knowing of the mob outside, suggested that they would be safer in the cell of the jail. Turning to Willard Richards, Joseph asked, “If we go into the cell will you go with us?” To this Elder Richards responded:
Brother Joseph, you did not ask me to cross the river with you—you did not ask me to come to Carthage—you did not ask me to come to jail with you—and do you think I would forsake you now? But I will tell you what I will do; if you are condemned to be hung for ‘treason,’ I will be hung in your stead, and you shall go free. [B.H. Roberts, A Comprehensive History of the Church, 2:283]
Strong and intelligent men do not demonstrate that kind of love for a charlatan or a fraud. That kind of love comes of God and the recognition of integrity in men. It is an expression of the spirit and example of the Savior, who gave his life for all men and who declared, “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13).