Gospel Story Finder

Mickey Mantle, the great baseball player, once told of a little five-year-old boy who had grown up with a great fear of the barber. His parents tried to cut his hair at home, but that never seemed to work out well. Even if the boy held still, which he seldom did, their haircuts always looked worse than if his hair were left long and shaggy.
One afternoon the boy’s father said that they were going to the barber to get a haircut. The boy replied, “No, I’m not going to get a haircut!”
“Yes, you are,” his father explained, “but don’t worry about it now.”
The father and the boy went to the shopping center and parked the car. They stopped for a few things that they had to buy, and several times the father reminded his son that they were going to stop for a haircut too. Each time the boy answered, “No, we’re not!”
Suddenly they were in front of the barbershop door, and the boy froze in his tracks. He held onto his father’s hand and stared straight ahead. The father looked down at the boy but didn’t say a word. The boy’s face was solemn and serious as he stared through the glass of the shop. Finally he softly said to himself, “I am going to get my hair cut.”
The father opened the door, and together they walked inside. They had to wait a few minutes, and so they sat down on the chairs along the wall. The boy sat on the edge of his chair without saying a word.
Finally one of the barbers called, “Next please.” Then the boy turned and looked at his father, and his father nodded. The boy got up, walked slowly to the barber chair, and climbed up onto the little seat that barbers put across the arms of their big chairs for children. The boy let the barber put the sheet around him as he sat still as a statute.
No one said a word until the haircut was finished. Then the young boy took a deep breath and climbed down from the chair. His father paid for the haircut and the two of them left the shop.
Outside the boy stopped and looked up at his father. “I got my hair cut!” he said proudly.
This father later told Mickey Mantle that the bravest act he had ever seen was when his little boy stood up to something that had terrified him.

When school started, Dian did not care for learning to read as much as she enjoyed going with her father or working on her projects. Reading just wasn’t interesting for her. Reading was a burden all through grade school, and her opinion of herself began to suffer because of it.
“Because I wasn’t good at reading, I let that affect my self-image,” said Dian. “I was probably more creative than most kids, mainly because I spent so much time figuring out how to make things work. I think the worst thing I did was consider myself inadequate in school because I couldn’t read or spell very well. I let that penetrate into my self-esteem. I let it affect other areas of my life which I shouldn’t have done.”
When Dian reached seventh grade, her family moved to Salt Lake City. Having been raised in the country, Dian had to adjust to life in a city. She was still having problems in school, but she was determined to make friends and be successful in her new home.
“I was put in a remedial reading group. I watched my friends and could see that they could read well. I just didn’t know why I couldn’t, but I didn’t give up. I just kept plodding. I figured out ways to get through my classes. I would study with friends, and I worked on ways to help myself. I found it really helped to write things on a blackboard and go over and over them. I did a lot of things other kids didn’t have to do. There were times I really got discouraged and wanted to quit, but I just didn’t.”
When it came time to go to girls’ camp, Dian found an area in which she was skilled and had things to teach others. She taught fun ways to cook over a fire and efficient ways of setting up camp. Little did she know that doing this thing that she loved would become her profession.
One event that sticks out in Dian’s mind took place in the tenth grade. Aptitude tests were given, and based on the results, counselors advised the students on the areas they should stress to prepare for college or a job. When Dian talked to the counselor, it was a disappointment. “They suggested that I would probably have trouble with college. I remember my scores. In reading skills, I was low. But in logic and reasoning, I was in the 98th percentile. In one area I felt like a failure, but in another I was so skilled. When he told me not to go to college, I didn’t even consider it. I said I am going to college. They can measure a skill at certain levels, but nobody can measure determination. I learned that everyone has an area in which he feels inadequate.”
What made Dian so determined to do her best? She remembers specifically as a teenager hearing a radio talk given by President David O. McKay, who was president of the Church at that time. “I remember him saying that we only have one life to live, and we have to do the best we can with this life. I remember thinking, ‘If I only have one life to live, then I have to be the best I can be. It doesn’t matter what everyone else can do; I can’t give up.’”
With a realistic grasp of her limitations, Dian entered college and signed up for remedial help in reading. “I was tested, and my reading speed was slow. The lady who tested me said I probably wouldn’t make it through college. I remember walking out of there feeling frustrated. I thought, ‘Nobody can tell other people what they can do and what they can’t.’”
It was hard. It was discouraging. Dian charted a course of college study that took advantage of her creative skills and did not require an exorbitant amount of reading. She studied home economics hoping to become a teacher. She often had to work twice as hard as other students to complete papers and read assignments. Her parents helped in every way they could. Sometimes they would drive to Provo for the weekend and read Dian’s assignments with her. Yet Dian’s research and teaching projects showed her creativity and innovation. In moments of discouragement, this thought kept coming back to her, “You only have one life. You’ve got to be the best person you can be.”
Dian loved doing things. “If I saw an idea I liked, I’d go home and do it. It became part of me. I slowly built up a repertoire of things I could do. A creative idea is often just putting two things together to make a new thing. It’s often just a twist on something else.” It is this ability to do things in a new way that is Dian’s real talent. And she loved sharing them with others. She is a natural teacher and has charm that reaches beyond the camera.
For her master’s thesis, she organized and wrote a curriculum guide to teach outdoor skills. This became the basis for her national best-selling book, Roughing It Easy. But getting the book published was also an exercise in perseverance. She approached BYU Press to take on the job, but they turned it down. She kept working with an editor until the press reconsidered the project and agreed to publish the book. To promote the sale of her book, she started a series of lectures combined with local television, newspaper, and radio interviews. She prepared herself to go after opportunities. She made proposals to companies about how she could help them with product promotion. She became a favorite of the television talk show circuit not only because of what she talked about but by the force of her personality. Now she is a popular lecturer crisscrossing the nation regularly, talking to businessmen in Alaska one week and a group of teachers in Pennsylvania the next. She attributes her success to preparation. “I would watch for opportunities and be prepared. Sometimes I’ll think and work on a proposal for months before approaching a company.”
Where does Dian get her ideas? Since reading is not the best way for her to do research, she learns by talking to people. Whenever she travels, she strikes up a conversation with the person in the seat next to her. Whenever she’s standing in line, she talks to those around her. If she’s working on new party ideas, she’ll let that guide her conversation with strangers. She’ll ask, “What was the best party you’ve ever been to?” That not only gets the conversation going, it helps Dian learn about new ideas from which she can develop her own unique variations. “I can’t tell you how rewarding just talking to people will be. Everyone likes to talk about themselves, and I am genuinely interested.”
Even though Dian can tell you how to make an outdoor grill out of a tin can or how to take a shower under an umbrella, some of the ideas that still amaze her audiences are the ones she learned a long time ago. One of her favorites is boiling water in a paper cup. “I love to do things that stretch people’s imaginations,” says Dian. “At first they say you can’t boil water in a paper cup. But you can. When water in a paper cup is placed directly in a fire, the water keeps the paper below the combustion point.”
Another favorite idea is starting a fire with double O steel wool and batteries. If two batteries are held end to end and steel wool is stretched to make the connection on both ends, it causes a spark capable of starting a fire in shaved kindling.
Dian also likes to cook eggs and bacon in a paper sack. In fact, this skill was the one she demonstrated to Johnny Carson on his late night television talk show. Based on her appearance on that show, she received dozens of invitations to talk, essentially initiating her nationwide popularity.
Growing up, Dian learned a lot about not letting other people’s opinions of her abilities influence what she did. Every time she met an obstacle to her learning or development, she put her talent of figuring things out to work. She would watch and listen until she found a way to succeed.
“If only people would just prepare themselves to succeed,” Dian wishes. “It’s their lives, if they would just do something with them. They are the captains of their ships. Sometimes people don’t realize their own value. I think the Church teaches us so beautifully that each of us is someone special.”
Discouraging times come to everyone, and Dian has had her share. She has learned of ways to deal with those “down” times. “When I was going to school, I didn’t bury myself. I had trouble in one area, but I was succeeding in another. To cheer myself up, I would get out of where I was and get with people. That is the biggest solution to life. When you are discouraged, get out of the environment you’re in and go help somebody. When you come back, you can face your problems a little better.”
Now it seems ironic that a little girl who didn’t read very well is the author of nationally best-selling books. Dian Thomas worked on her enormous creative talents instead of being stymied by what she couldn’t do as well. “Instead of saying I can’t do it, I learned to say, how can I do it.” Succeeding as a writer and lecturer defied what some people believed about her. Her success is just like boiling water in the paper cup: people say it can’t be done, but it can. Dian discovered the combustion point of her talent.

The Holy Ghost also confirms the truthfulness of the scriptures and prophets. When Sister Flori Cobo de Lumbreras of Cádiz, Spain, read the Book of Mormon, she “had strong desires to ask God if this book was true, if Joseph Smith was truly a prophet, and if God wanted me to join the Church.
“I tossed and turned in bed, disturbed for four or five hours, and finally knelt at the side of my bed and began to raise my voice to my Father. The answer came with great strength to my heart. What joy! What peace! A warm feeling covered me.”

Mara bounced happily on the tall kitchen stool as she watched Grandma get out the ingredients for her wonderful tarts. Grandma hummed as she worked, and by the time she rolled out the dough, Mara was humming along with her. “These tarts will be good for your sister’s wedding reception tomorrow,” Grandma said.
“Why can’t I go inside the temple for Alyse’s wedding, Grandma?”
Grandma stopped rolling for a minute. “Well, because you’re not old enough to understand the special covenants we make there.”
“What’s a covenant?”
“A covenant is a promise you make with another person, Mara. In the temple we make special promises with Heavenly Father, and He promises us great blessings when we do our part. All this is part of what we call the endowment.”
Grandmother began rolling out the dough again. When the dough was thin enough, she cut out small circles and carefully fit them into the muffin cups.
Mara watched her grandmother’s wrinkled hands creating the beautiful little tarts. “Grandma, what’s it like inside the temple?”
“There are beautiful flowers and pictures to see. It is beautiful and peaceful, Mara. Everyone is dressed in white, and it feels as though you are surrounded by angels. We learn about Heavenly Father and Jesus there, for the temple is God’s house.”
“I know,” Mara said. “In Primary we sing a song about it called ‘I Love to See the Temple.’ It makes me feel quiet and reverent inside. Is that what the temple feels like?”
“Yes, dear,” Grandma replied. “When you sing that song from the Children’s Songbook, the Holy Ghost helps you have those quiet, reverent feelings. And when you visit the temple, those peaceful, reverent feelings are even stronger. As we worship God in the temple, we can feel His love and peace.”
Grandma spooned fruit filling into the little dough cups, then wove strips of pastry on top of each one. Her white hair bobbed as she moved back and forth. She looked up and smiled at Mara.
“I have another question,” Mara said, smiling back. “Why does everyone wear white in the temple?”
“Wearing white clothes helps us to remember to have thoughts that are pure and clean. Then we can better understand the instruction and guidance we receive there.”
Mara twirled around on her stool. “Dad said that when you get married in the temple, you are married for eternity, not just until you die. Is that why Alyse and Paul want to get married in the temple?”
“That’s one reason. And when they have children, each one will automatically be sealed to them in a ‘forever family.’ Some people get married, then have to work to become worthy of temple blessings, and many people have died without even knowing about them. Once living people are worthy, they can receive the temple ordinances for themselves and for the dead. That way, if they are worthy, everybody who lives or who has lived on earth can be joined together as families and as part of God’s eternal family.”
“Wow! I sure want to be married in the temple when I grow up, Grandma. Will you make your tarts for my reception too?”
Grandma winked at her. “I’m looking forward to it!”

I live on the island of Lifou, one of the islands of New Caledonia. I was baptized on a Saturday afternoon by my father. We had to travel to another tribal area called Luengóni for my baptism because my tribe lives on the high ground, and we don’t have any beaches. When I went down into the water, I was afraid, and my heart was heavy. Coming out of the water I felt very light and full of joy. My heart was pounding with joy, for I knew that my church is the true Church of Jesus Christ. I love singing the hymns of the Church and reading the Book of Mormon. I bear you my testimony in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.Wajo Elenne Xowi, age 8, Lifou Island, New Caledonia

These early seeds of faith sprouted still further when, as a young Aaronic Priesthood boy, I received a firsthand confirmation of the remarkable testimony of the Three Witnesses concerning the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon. My stake president was President Henry D. Moyle, and his father was James H. Moyle. In the summertime Brother James H. Moyle would visit his family, and he would worship with us in our little ward in the southeast of the Salt Lake Valley.

One Sunday, Brother James H. Moyle shared with us a singular experience. As a young man he went to the University of Michigan to study law. As he was finishing his studies, his father told him that David Whitmer, one of the witnesses of the Book of Mormon, was still alive. The father suggested to his son that he stop on his way back to Salt Lake City to visit with David Whitmer face-to-face. Brother Moyle’s purpose was to ask him about his testimony concerning the golden plates and the Book of Mormon.

During that visit, Brother Moyle said to David Whitmer: “Sir, you are an old man, and I’m a young man. I have been studying about witnesses and testimonies. Please tell me the truth concerning your testimony as one of the witnesses of the Book of Mormon.” David Whitmer then told this young man: “Yes, I held the golden plates in my hands, and they were shown to us by an angel. My testimony concerning the Book of Mormon is true.” David Whitmer was out of the Church, but he never denied his testimony of the angel’s visitation, of handling the golden plates, or of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon. Hearing with my own ears this remarkable experience directly from Brother Moyle’s lips had a powerful, confirming effect upon my growing testimony. Having heard it, I felt it was binding upon me.

Many years ago I took our only son on his first camping, fishing trip. He was just a boy. The canyon was steep, and the descent was difficult. But the fishing was good. Every time I hooked a fish I would give the pole to the eager boy, and with shouts of joy he would reel in a beautiful trout. In the shadows and coolness of the late afternoon, we began our climb back up to the rim high above us. He scrambled rapidly up the mountain ahead of me with a challenging, “Come on, Dad. I’ll bet I can beat you to the top.” The challenge was heard but wisely ignored. His small frame seemed literally to fly over, under, and around every obstacle, and when every step that I took seemed ridiculously like my last, he had reached the top and stood cheering me on. After supper we knelt in prayer. His small voice rose sweetly heavenward in benediction to our day. Then we climbed into our large double sleeping bag, and after a bit of pushing and pulling I felt his little body snuggle and settle tightly against mine for warmth and security against the night. As I looked at my son beside me, suddenly I felt a surge of love pass through my body with such force that it pushed tears to my eyes. And, at that precise moment, he put his little arms around me and said, “Dad.”
“Yes, son.”
“Are you awake?”
“Yes, my son, I am awake.”
“Dad, I love you a million, trillion times!”
And immediately he was asleep. But I was awake far into the night, expressing my great thanks for such wonderful blessings clothed with a little boy’s body.

Now my son is a man with a son of his own. Once in a while the three of us go fishing. I look at my little red-headed grandson beside his father, and I see in my mind’s eye the image of that wonderful moment long ago. The question so innocently asked, “Dad, are you awake?” still rings in my heart.

At 5 a.m. on a Tuesday morning in April 2022, a group of youth and leaders gathered at Heathrow Airport. Although there were a few tired faces, everybody was excited for the trip ahead of them. The travelers were members of the Staines Ward, Staines England Stake, and they were getting ready to board a plane heading for Stockholm, Sweden.
The ward’s Swedish bishop, Örjan Olsson, and his family had moved to England a few years prior. Ever since then, he had dreamt of taking the youth to his beautiful homeland. Now, it was finally time.
After the plane landed in Stockholm, the group traveled by train to the Stockholm Sweden Temple. They would be staying in the temple accommodations for the duration of their 3-night trip. Bishop Olsson’s parents, who lived in the area and worked at the temple, were there to greet the group and had lunch prepared for the starving teenagers. Once physically fed, the youth walked over to the temple where they would spend the afternoon being spiritually fed while performing proxy baptisms and confirmations.
Every morning of the trip would be spent in the same manner—food and temple work. After breakfast (and sometimes before), the eager youth would go in groups to the temple to perform baptisms for the dead. They had a goal to perform 1,000 baptisms. In preparation for the trip, the youth had searched their family trees to find ancestors in need of temple work and had collected names from ward members. The pile of names grew even larger once in Sweden, as other temple patrons heard about the group and asked if the youth would be willing to perform the work for some of their ancestors. The youth worked hard to reach their goal. One morning, each young man and young woman performed 25 proxy baptisms. By the end of the trip, the youth had exceeded their goal and completed 1,250 baptisms and confirmations.
A particularly special moment occurred one morning while a group of youth were in the temple. A couple entered the baptistry and asked the youth if they would be willing to perform the proxy baptisms for the woman’s sister who had passed away. Tears flowed down the couple’s cheeks as they watched a priest and young woman enter the font and perform the proxy baptism. The Spirit could be felt by everyone in the baptistry as the Holy Ghost bore witness of the importance of the work being done.
When not working in the temple, the Staines party enjoyed learning about Sweden’s sights and culture and getting to know the members of Sweden. One afternoon was spent exploring central Stockholm where the youth were able to try Swedish food (the Swedish meatballs were delicious), take in the colourful buildings, buy souvenirs, and enjoy each other’s company. The youth also had the chance to get to know the youth of the local Swedish wards. They laughed their way through the nerves and awkwardness of speed dating and had fun playing games. On the last evening, the youth came together for a testimony meeting where they bore powerful testimony of Jesus Christ and His gospel in both English and Swedish.
Before heading to the airport, the travelers had to make one more stop—a Swedish pick-and-mix candy store. Once everybody had a bag full of Swedish candy, the group headed to the airport and headed back to England, where they landed safely late that night.
This unique temple trip was a cultural and spiritual feast for all those who had the blessing to attend. Of course, none of it would have been possible without the wonderful efforts of many people—the hard-working and positive youth, the leaders who helped organized the international trip, those who served in the kitchens, the dedicated temple workers, the kind temple president who taught spiritual truths (as well as cycling and competitive badminton), the entire Olsson family, and the welcoming members of Stockholm. Bonds were formed and strengthened, and everyone who made the journey returned with hearts full of love—for Sweden, for each other, and for the Lord.

I really liked the advent calendar (Dec. 2008) and focused a family home evening on it. My family and I started planning and decided on a task: my sister and I made homemade mincemeat pies and took them to an elderly woman in our neighborhood. That made her very happy, and we decided to visit her more often. My mum, sister, grandmother and I also sang the song “Little Baby” at our ward’s Christmas party.
Alice T., Scotland

An adventurous three-year-old, one day I wandered out to visit my father in the fields. We lived on a farm in Kaysville, Utah, and I walked about a quarter mile down the road past our neighbor’s house and then headed out to find Dad.
I didn’t know it, but my dad was already headed home another way. So there I was, out in the middle of the field, surrounded by oats taller than I was. I had no idea how to get home.
I don’t remember being scared. I don’t even remember trying to find my way home. I just played in the fields until I got tired, then lay down and went to sleep. I didn’t know that I was lost at all.
Of course, my parents were not so calm. They began frantically searching for me, and when they couldn’t find me, they called others for help. The whole town of Kaysville spent the entire night looking for me. People drained the ponds and tramped down the crops and waded through the ditches. I had no idea I’d created such a stir!
The next morning, Ben Webster, a friend of my father’s, visited my folks. “I’ll find your boy,” he promised them. Then he headed out into the fields and walked right to where I was! I remember him picking me up and carrying me home to my mother. I learned at that young age that the Savior cares about little children—even when you’re three years old and not sticking very close to home!
The Savior knows each one of you individually. He loves you and watches over you. He knows where you are and what you need. There is no doubt in my mind that He knew where I was in that field. He also knew Ben Webster and how to guide him to where I was.
Children, know that your Heavenly Father loves you. So does Jesus Christ. They are there for you, and They will take care of you. Just as They sent Ben Webster out in the field to find a lost three-year-old, They will send you the help you need!

“Thanks again, Alanna,” Brother Tolley said. “You did a great job.”
“You’re welcome.” Alanna Johnson could barely keep the excitement from her voice.
Her first baby-sitting job had gone perfectly. She’d taken the child-care kit that she’d made at a Primary Achievement Day activity and played games with the Tolley’s three children until it was bedtime.
Brother Tolley walked her to her front door and waited while she let herself into the house.
Alanna hadn’t even looked at the money Sister Tolley had pressed into her hand at the end of the evening. She’d expected five or six dollars. Now, she saw that it was a twenty-dollar bill!
That’s eighteen dollars, she thought, after I pay my tithing. Alanna imagined her parents’ faces when she handed them the eighteen dollars.
Things hadn’t been easy for the Johnson family since Dad had lost his engineering job a year ago. Her sixteen-year-old brother, Steve, had found an after-school job at the supermarket. And, for the first time Alanna could remember, her mother had taken a part-time job.
Still, the family struggled to make ends meet. There had been no new clothes or movies in the last year. They no longer went out to eat on Fridays or to the bowling alley on Saturdays. Alanna didn’t really mind, as long as their family was together.
But now she could help. Eighteen dollars! That was enough to fill the car with gas or to buy a bag of groceries.
Her excitement faded as she wondered if Sister Tolley realized how much money she had given her. Could she have made a mistake? Alanna frowned as she remembered that Sister Tolley had simply pulled the money from her purse without looking at it.
Maybe Sister Tolley meant to give me the twenty-dollar bill. Baby-sitting three children is a lot of work. Alanna remembered that the Tolleys didn’t seem to have much money, either. But, she silently argued with herself, they gave me the money. I didn’t steal it. Alanna looked around the living room. Though the room had only a few pieces of furniture, her mother had hung pictures of the Savior, the Prophet Joseph Smith, and President Gordon B. Hinckley on the walls. Alanna remembered helping her mother cut the pictures from the Ensign and put them in frames they’d found at a garage sale. President Hinckley seemed to be looking intently at her from his framed picture.
He wouldn’t keep the twenty dollars, she thought. Not if it didn’t really belong to him.
She found her parents in the kitchen. Her mother was cooking; her father was paying bills at the table.
Alanna took a deep breath and told them what happened. “I wanted to give the money to you, to help out the family, but I think Sister Tolley made a mistake.” She swallowed hard. “I’m going to give it back to her.”
Dad settled his big hand on her shoulder. “You just gave us the best gift there is, Alanna. Knowing that you want to do what is right is worth far, far more than eighteen dollars.”
Mom kissed her. “We’re very proud of you, sweetheart.”
When her family arrived at church the following morning, Alanna looked for Sister Tolley. “I think you overpaid me last night,” she said and handed the twenty-dollar bill to her.
Sister Tolley looked startled, then relieved. “I didn’t know where that money had gone! I knew that I had put it in my purse. Then this morning, I couldn’t find it.” She started to cry. “It’s the last payment for something my husband needed. I didn’t know what I was going to do if I didn’t find it.”
Alanna discovered that she was crying, too.
Sister Tolley opened her purse and counted out six dollars. “I hope you’ll baby-sit for us again. Our children think you’re the best baby-sitter they’ve ever had—and so do I.”
Alanna gave her mother five dollars. After paying her tithing, she had only forty cents left, but somehow she felt very rich.
There is no substitute under the heavens for … the boy or girl who is honest.—President Gordon B. Hinckley (Ensign, November 2000, page 52.)

It was 1888 and winter in Colonia Juarez, Mexico, and the Romneys were near starvation. Miles, Catherine’s husband, had been gone for several months, trying to find work elsewhere; and despite Catherine’s care and thrift, their food was almost gone. Prayerfully she considered her alternatives and then sent her twelve-year-old son, Thomas, and her fourteen-year-old son, George, hunting. Neither boy had ever fired a gun, and sending them alone into the mountain wilderness placed them in some jeopardy, but starvation was a reality. They took the family’s .44 Winchester rifle and enthusiastically went up Spring Creek.
About 1 1/2 kilometers up the creek they suddenly saw a large buck standing broadside about 70 meters away. Excitedly, George aimed and fired. Curiously, the buck turned his head and looked at them, apparently puzzled by the noise. The second shot struck him exactly between the eyes, even though George had aimed at the deer’s middle.
After their excitement subsided, they realized that they had no knife and no way of getting the buck home. George ran home for a knife while Thomas stood guard—not an easy task since he was barefoot and had to keep running and walking so that his feet would not freeze.
It was snowing by the time George returned with their two younger brothers, ages ten and eleven, all barefooted. They weren’t strong enough to cut up the animal, so they started dragging it home, six kilometers away. They had to rest every few meters; and even when Catherine joined them a little later, their progress was still slow. It was with real gratitude that they looked up to see a neighbor, Helaman Pratt, riding towards them with a pack mule. He had heard the shot and had come to help.
At the evening meal they feasted on the sweetest venison any had ever eaten.
This story became cherished by the family, told and retold to the children and grandchildren—among them grandchild Camilla Eyring, who would one day marry Spencer W. Kimball.

Ever since he was a little boy, David Burnell dreamed of serving his country in the military. So shortly after he returned from serving the Lord in the Canada Halifax Mission, David joined the U.S. Air Force. Now he’s not only a staff sergeant, he’s also a communications and computer specialist at Ellsworth Air Force Base in South Dakota.
The military has become an alternate route to education for many people. There are opportunities to receive training and college credit in several fields, including the ones David chose.
“I had a hard time visualizing success in going to school and being married and working all at the same time,” David said. “It scared me, so I came in the service, hoping at the same time to serve my country and maybe obtain a little bit of education. It turned out that I’ve obtained a lot.” With the help of his military training, he is close to a bachelor’s degree in the management of computer information systems at Park College in Missouri.
In high school, David was an avid pole vaulter, wrestler, and football player with a 3.3 grade point average. He took a few college prep classes and even registered twice at a junior college, but never attended. He lost his motivation when he had trouble getting the classes he wanted.
Thanks to a patriotic father, the military had always been in David’s mind. He did a summer reserve program with the Marines when he was 17 and liked it, so after his mission he decided to try the service full-time.
But life in the service can also bring unexpected challenges, like learning to deal with a new way of life and being away from your family.
“Sometimes the life-style can make you hard or callous,” David says. “It could desensitize you if you don’t study your scriptures and pray frequently and do all those things that we’re commanded to do.”
Interested? Shop around until you find the program or military school you want, and don’t sign anything until you know what you’re getting. You may have to wait a while to get into the right program, but it will be worth it. Also, know how useful it will be after you leave the service. Some training will help you get a job in the civilian world and some won’t.
“I would recommend people grabbing as much education as they can prior to coming in the military,” David says. “They would have a wider span of knowledge where they could make a better decision. Sometimes when you come in right out of school or right off a mission and you haven’t gone to school, you don’t really have the opportunity to see a whole lot of different options.”

I Want to Be a Part of This!
By Lauren Soqui Bohman
Living in Oman, my husband and I rushed to get our kids to bed so we could watch the morning session of conference on the other side of the world. We had been counting down the days until conference, yearning for that guidance and peace we knew would come from Heavenly Father through His prophets and disciples.
Sister Joy D. Jones told us the Lord loves effort, so how much effort am I willing to exert to follow His example?
President Henry B. Eyring asked what role we will play in this hinge point in history.
Sister Bonnie H. Cordon and Elder Jeffrey R. Holland asked us to consider how we will purposely shine our light.
I felt how much I want to be part of the goodness that the Lord is rapidly moving forward. Conference inspired me to renew my efforts to help my children with their personal development, to seek to be a more thoughtful and spiritually authentic friend, to perform family history tasks like data entry, and to look for creative new opportunities to serve God by serving His children.

When I was in college, I was a member of the BYU International Folk Dancers. One summer our group had the unique privilege to tour the missions in Europe. It was a difficult summer for me because a few months earlier my father had unexpectedly passed away. While we were in Scotland, I felt especially alone and became discouraged. We danced at a chapel that night, and then after our performance we went next door to the mission home. As I proceeded up the walk, I saw a stone placed in a well-kept garden by the gate. On it I read the words, “What-e’er thou art, act well thy part.” At that moment those words went deeply into my heart, and I felt the powers of heaven reach out and give me a message. I knew I was known by a loving Heavenly Father. I felt I was not alone. I stood in that garden with tears in my eyes. “What-e’er thou art, act well thy part.” That simple statement renewed my vision that Heavenly Father knew me and had a plan for my life, and the spirit I felt helped me understand that my part mattered.

Nine-year-old Seiko Tran and his six-year-old sister, Lili, were happy in their comfortable Saigon home. Their father, Loc, not only controlled considerable land but owned two homes and operated a family business. He was an attorney before being drafted into the military. He was trained as a jet-fighter pilot and was stationed at Tan San Nhut Air Base in Saigon. Young Seiko had often dreamed of flying in his father’s jet.
His father worked closely with some LDS servicemen stationed in Vietnam and became very interested in the Church before the Americans were gradually withdrawn from Vietnam, mainly in 1972 and 1973. Seiko and Lili attended private schools. They were being groomed to follow in the footsteps of their parents, who were well educated and spoke several languages. Their father, in fact, spoke Chinese, Japanese, Italian, Cambodian, English, French, and Vietnamese.
When the South Vietnamese government surrendered to North Vietnam, Seiko and Lili were hurriedly taken by their parents to the air base and, along with their mother, Van, were stuffed into the back seat of the fully-armed jet fighter assigned to their father. Suitcases containing family valuables had been exchanged for their safe entry to the base, but they didn’t have enough to satisfy everyone.
When the engines were started, there was a massive effort to stop the Tran family. With guns firing at them from all sides, Seiko and Lili huddled close to their mother. Their father’s jet shook violently under full power as it roared down the battered runway and then, as it seemed to them, leaped into the air. Their father dropped all armaments to gain speed and altitude. They were soon safe.
Seiko and Lili were too young to understand that they would not be coming back. Unlike their parents, they were more frightened than sad. Through the clouds and the mist, they took one last look at the green hills and rice fields of Vietnam as their father set a course for Thailand. All the family had now were the clothes on their backs and each other. Seiko’s first airplane ride was not turning out quite the way he had imagined.

It all started when my stake set up a project to help refugees. I really liked the project, so I asked my mom to tell my schoolteacher about it, and my teacher wanted to do something with the fourth grade. To set the example for the project, my sister, Maddie, and I went door to door asking for donations.
The day came to present the project to the rest of the fourth grade. I was a bit nervous. Actually, I was super freaked out, but I did my best. I told all the other fourth graders what we needed for school kits for the refugees. I told about how we went door to door, and I gave them a challenge to try to do better than me in raising money. Together we made over 100 kits! We put in notebooks, pencils, and other school supplies. We also added a note to say, “Welcome to Germany!”
My mom and I took the kits to the refugee camp. I wouldn’t say the camp was nice, but there was a playground and an area for learning academics. There was a train next to the camp that was really loud, and the kids told me it sounded like jets flying by in Syria and other places like that. Maybe it sounded like bombs to the kids who had heard them in their home countries.
I met a few kids at the camp my age, including Daniel, an awesome chess player. I didn’t get to play chess against him, which was too bad because I love chess, but they invited me to play foosball and ping-pong. The boys told me that they missed their homes and really wanted to leave the camp and go to school again.
After we played foosball and ping-pong, we handed out the kits. I feel good that I could do something kind for the kids who lived at the camps.

A few years ago, when I was in the navy during World War II, I received orders to report to the fleet headquarters at Pearl Harbor. My family took me to Treasure Island in the San Francisco Bay, where I boarded the plane there, an old sea plane called a Pan-American clipper. On board that plane were some high-ranking medical officers going out to prepare and build up the hospital support because the battle of Tarawa would be taking place within a few weeks. Because of my rank, I was assigned to sleep in a sleeping bag out in the tail of that plane, where I could see the starboard engines as we were flying over San Francisco, which was under military blackout. It was black as we were flying out into the Pacific, and I thought the starboard engine on that old Pan-American plane was on fire. I couldn’t sleep as I watched it throughout the entire flight.

During that sleepless night I wondered about my own life and whether I had been living up to the opportunities that would be mine and the responsibility that would be mine as a holder of the Melchizedek Priesthood—the responsibility to be an example and to live the way I should so that I would be able to fulfill the calls that might come to me. In that sleepless night I took an inventory of myself, of my attitudes, wondering if I was doing all that I might. Even though I had always accepted my Church assignments, I wondered if I was fulfilling them with all of my heart, might, mind, and soul and living up to the responsibility, the blessing, that I received as a holder of the Melchizedek Priesthood and what would be expected of any of us who received this blessing.

Looking back on that sleepless night, I thank the Lord for His blessings today and for all that I have had the opportunity to be involved in. I try always to live the gospel to the fullest, to do everything I am called on to do with all of my heart, might, mind, and strength, to fulfill any call that might come to me so I may be qualified to do whatever I might be asked to do someday.

Growing up in a devout LDS family in Utah, USA, Brian felt like the Church wasn’t for him. “I enjoyed fantasy games, movies, and rock music,” he says, “not Scouts, scriptures, seminary, and sports.” As soon as he could leave home, he moved into an apartment and “opened myself to the world, including sex and drugs.” After an extended period of what Brian calls “riotous living and experimentation,” he ran into financial troubles and his parents took him in again, although he did not return to church.
The birth of a baby sister caused Brian to reevaluate his views. When he held her for the first time, he recalls, “I knew she was not just another kind of animal.” Somewhat apprehensively, he attended her baby blessing, and when the sacrament came to him, “I passed it on without partaking, but part of me felt spiritually hungry for it.”
Trying to sort out his conflicted feelings, Brian started keeping a journal. “I stayed up writing about my spiritual dilemma late one night,” he says, “and I had my first spiritual experience, though not with the good side.” He felt an evil, hateful, angry force trying to take over his soul. “After that,” he explains, “I knew I needed the Lord.” But having strayed so far, Brian wondered, “Could I be worthy of His help and protection?” He also questioned whether he could ever partake of the sacrament again.
The road back was hard. Giving up cigarettes wasn’t easy, confessing to the bishop took courage, and turning from old friends and activities was difficult. His family, girlfriend, and bishop all supported him, but Brian discovered his main source of strength in Jesus Christ.
“I found the Lord eager to help me,” he remembers. “New opportunities opened to replace my old pursuits. The more effort I put into living the gospel, the clearer my pathway became.” As Brian trusted the Lord and discovered His willingness to forgive and heal, the sacrament took on a greater meaning for him and helped bring him closer to the Savior. “While I’d eaten the bread and water at church as a child hundreds of times, I was finally able to partake of the sacrament for what felt like the first time.”

As a physician, I once had a patient come to me after a routine blood test was out of normal range. In the days between her test and our visit, she had consulted the internet about what the results could mean. When we met, she was upset and worried. I tried to explain the results, but she was still distraught.
“Don’t worry about what could go wrong,” I told her. “That’s my job! It’s what I’m here for. I studied hard to know what to do about this. We’ll get through this together, and if you’ll follow my instructions, you’ll know how to be whole again. Trust me and let me take the burden of medical worries. Then you can focus all your energy on getting better.”
This helped to calm her fears. We made plans to run more tests, and I promised we’d move forward together.