Gospel Story Finder

It seemed perfectly normal when Karen Monahan grabbed the hero’s arm. Then, right on cue, he began his solo performance. But instead of singing the words, he was signing them, telling his part of the story through deaf sign language. No one in the audience knew that Karen had squeezed firmly on Scott’s arm to let him know when to begin. No one needed to know. He performed his actions smoothly, as the other actors had throughout the show, without saying a word.
Then the curtains rushed together, but no one on stage spoke. When the curtains opened again, the cast bowed politely. Although the audience thundered its applause, 30 of the 45 performers couldn’t hear it because they are deaf. But they had communicated so effectively with the audience that nearly everyone watching cheered when the awards were announced. The Los Angeles Ward for the Deaf had won the Los Angeles California Stake roadshow competition, with awards for best acting, best costumes and set, best script, and of course, outstanding roadshow of the year.
It was the culmination of months of effort that had begun when the stake president, Rodney H. Brady, sent a letter inviting the ward to participate in the annual contest for the first time. Initially, the challenge seemed insurmountable. “I had my doubts about how good it would be,” Wayne Bennett, a counselor in the bishopric said, speaking in Ameslan (American Sign Language, a means of communication employed by many deaf people). “But a few months of practice made of lot of difference. When I saw the roadshow in performance, I said, ‘Hey, that’s no roadshow; that’s a miracle!’”
The audience seemed to agree. Carol Mears, a professional comedy sketch writer, said she was “thrilled. I honestly forgot it was being done by the deaf.” Other performers, sometimes from other ward’s roadshows, sometimes children of ward members, provided voices to narrate the story. They spoke through microphones in the orchestra pit and were unseen by the audience. But their narration helped those who could hear to follow the actions of the deaf actors and actresses on stage.
The show, entitled “Under the Apple Tree,” adhered closely to the stake theme, “Once upon an Apple Tree,” and followed the trials of Red Delicious, an apple tree torn from his home by a tornado. He was soon joined by Yellow Delicious, another uproot in search of a place she could call her own. The two castaways discovered a new orchard presided over by Mother Apple, and finally felt confident to sink their roots into the community. Red Delicious eventually saved his fellow trees from a nefarious attack by bugs and aphids (including two members of the bishopric), and the apple trees lived happily ever after.
One of the highlights of the production was the “ABC Song,” during which the Apple Cuties taught audience members the manual alphabet. Another well-remembered scene found Mother Apple unable to get the attention of Red and Yellow Delicious, so she threw an apple at them and complained, “They must be deaf.” The joke appeared to put the audience at ease as they realized the deaf knew how to laugh at themselves.
Making the roadshow a success was not an easy task. There were many unusual problems. For example, when 23-year-old director Dave McKay began thinking about writing a script, he encountered the difficulty of writing one that would never be spoken. “We wrote it with our hands,” he said. Once a skeletal plot outline was chosen, directors and cast members worked together from improvised possibilities to a finalized sequence of actions. Long after rehearsals had begun, voice director Kareena Heath decided on words to be read by the unseen voices in the orchestra pit.
Another difficulty was synchronization of music and action. The entr’acte, for example, was an interpretive dance, and the dancers were required to perform to music they could not hear. Brother McKay solved the problem by casting one hearing dancer, who was responsible to keep the others in time with the beat. Once again, this was accomplished by means of hidden signals undetectable to the audience. Scott Duge (Red Delicious) and Birdie Herrick (Mother Apple) were kept on cue by Karen, a hearing interpreter for the deaf who took the role of Yellow Delicious. In other sections, actors and dancers maintained correct timing by memorizing counts and order of appearance.
Staging had to be carefully arranged so that actors could not only be seen, but also so that their hand signals were clearly visible at all times.
And, of course, butterflies in the stomach aren’t limited only to those who hear. Bill Andrews, who played Washington, the oldest of Mother Apple’s children, explained that stage fright manifested itself in an unusual way. “You could literally say we had a case of arthritis,” he said. “Our fingers were frozen. When hearing people get scared, their voices shake, but in our case, it’s our hands. They stiffen up and we can’t make the signs.”
Birdie was supposed to keep everyone backstage quiet. “But the deaf signed to each other anyway,” she remembered, smiling. “I told them to cut it out, because their hands would crack and make noise.”
The Los Angeles Ward for the Deaf is a unique organization. Those in the ward are either deaf themselves or members of a family in which someone is deaf. Although it is under jurisdiction of the Los Angeles California Stake, its members come from a broad geographical area. But the roadshow brought them all together.
Homer Thexton explained how participation in the event strengthened family unity. He is deaf, his wife is hard of hearing, and his children hear normally, yet all participated. “It helped our family,” he explained. “There was more cooperation and communication at home. We really taught and helped each other in our parts.”
That type of reaction extended throughout the stake. For example, members of the University of Southern California Branch roadshow cast (which, incidentally, placed second in the competition) stayed behind after their own performance long enough to provide the voices for the deaf show. Noting that support, President Brady said he felt the roadshow experience had unified the entire stake. Since the performance, a variety of activities have helped to bring members of the ward for the deaf and other wards in the stake into closer contact on a more regular basis. (See FYI for Feb. 1978 and May 1978.)
The roadshow is over. But excitement and pride remain. Already ward members are talking about future productions and looking forward to another roadshow next year.
Editor’s Note: The Los Angeles Ward for the Deaf was recently divided to form two new wards, the San Fernando Valley Ward for the Deaf in the Los Angeles California Chatsworth Stake, and the Torrance North Ward for the Deaf, located in the Torrance California North Stake. The Fullerton Branch for the Deaf of the Fullerton California Stake was created in 1971, and continues to serve the needs of the deaf in that area.

The young man’s name was John Andreas Widtsoe. He lived with his widowed mother and little brother in a small, poor cottage. They had come from Norway in 1884. On June 27, 1894, in Sanders Theater, in Harvard Yard, Cambridge, Massachusetts, President Charles W. Eliot of Harvard University conferred upon the young immigrant the degree, Bachelor of Science, summa cum laude (with highest honors). He completed the four-year curriculum in three years. He had undergone many hardships. His widowed mother and little brother had sent him small sums of money from their meager earnings. The rest of his education had been financed by unusual personal sacrifice and by loans from kind friends in Logan, with notes signed at 12 percent interest.

After this experience, the Veranos attended Church meetings for a time, but quit after a few weeks. During this period there were several “coincidences” that helped to keep the Church in their thoughts. Sig’s mother-in-law, visiting from Colombia, spoke favorably of the clean-cut young American missionaries whose meetinghouse was near her home. An old friend from Colombia, now a sailor in the merchant marine, came for a visit. At dinnertime, he asked if he could say a blessing on the food—and Sig Verano recognized from his prayer that he was a Latter-day Saint. The friend, a convert who studied the scriptures ardently during his long voyages, bore his testimony to the Veranos, not knowing they had been investigating the Church.
Earlier, Sig Verano had told one pair of missionaries that they could come to visit as friends, but not as teachers. Before one of them went home at the end of his mission, he and his companion stopped by to visit and to invite the Veranos to meet his parents at a small farewell gathering hosted by friends. The Veranos were so impressed with the loving Latter-day Saints they met that they began taking the missionary lessons again.
But Ana Verano, faithful to the traditions of her forefathers’ church, became stubborn when she realized her husband was serious about joining The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She felt she didn’t need to be baptized again. So they reached an agreement: since the children liked the Church, he would take them there after his baptism. She would continue to go to her church.
But repeatedly during the week preceding Sig’s baptism, Ana dreamed of the Savior’s baptism by John in the River Jordan. She concluded that it was an indication, meant just for her, of the right thing to do.
Sigifredo and Ana were baptized in January of 1974. Their son Edison was baptized later that year, after his eighth birthday.
The Veranos’ struggles with faithfulness were not yet over, however, and neither was the loving work of others in fellowshipping them.
A fine home teacher, George Baker, helped keep them active in the Church, Brother Verano recalls. Unused to attending church meetings three times a day, beginning with priesthood at seven A.M., Brother Verano was ready to quit. The early meetings were difficult because he was working from midnight to six A.M. But Brother Baker, who could not go himself, arranged for someone to drive the Veranos to ward meetings, and kept them coming.
The Veranos’ spirituality grew as they faithfully attended meetings and obeyed gospel principles.
He was called as president of his stake’s Spanish-speaking branch, created in 1978, and was made bishop when, after five years, it became a ward.
The creation of that branch was a blessing also for Ana Verano. What little English she knew had made it difficult for her to participate in an English-speaking ward. In the Spanish-speaking branch, she could hold callings and grow in service as her husband had.
“My real testimony has come through working in the Church,” Brother Verano says. “Constant service is one of the things that strengthens one’s testimony.”
The first Spanish-speaking ward in their stake was divided shortly after its creation, and Sig was called to the high council. He now serves as stake executive secretary for the three Spanish-speaking wards in the Los Angeles California North Hollywood Stake. Ana serves in the stake’s English-language name extraction program.
Among the vocational courses Sig Verano completed in his wide-ranging studies was one in real estate sales. It led to a profitable new career—and to further strengthening of his testimony.
His sales career didn’t begin well. He was fired after only one week when the owner of the real estate agency learned the new salesman’s religion following Brother Verano’s refusal to work on Sunday.
“The gospel is so important in our lives that Sunday is empty if we can’t go to Church meetings,” he explains. But the owner of the real estate company said that the Mormons put too much time into Church service to be successful. Go work for a small agency where the owner will not care so much about sales success, he told Sig Verano.
Brother Verano took the dismissal as a challenge. He found a job with a larger agency, and, working only part-time in 1979, was its top salesman. He has consistently refused to work on Sundays; as branch president and bishop, he also devoted part of his Saturdays to Church service. Yet for several years he has been among the company’s top five salespeople.
In Church service, Brother Verano says humbly, he has gained knowledge that the Lord lives, that through him we can be redeemed, and that he has placed prophets on earth to help guide us. Those who only tentatively believe that the gospel is true can come to know of its truth with certainty as he has—by testing it in obedience and in service to others.
“When I was baptized into the Church,” he reflects, “I believed. But now I know.”

David Smith of Spokane, Washington, thinks with his hands and keeps on tinkering with wires, lights, and component parts until he figures out anything from a coin-tossing game to a completely new kind of computer. Dave estimates that his award-winning computer design can solve problems twice as fast as current computers. It is in the process of being patented. His “Tract-Computer,” cited by the U.S. Defense and Space Departments, cost Dave 4,500 hours and $1,200. He built it all from scratch and all on his own. Dave is the son of Mr. and Mrs. A. H. Smith and is quick to claim the blessing of Church membership, because it keeps him “alert and in touch with inspiration.” He’s earned his Duty to God award and has been a cross-country track man for his high school.

I have been a member of the Church all my life, but it took a girl who lived the standards to make me realize that I should do the same, and also that I should go on a mission. Naturally I enjoyed “By the Way She Is” in the September issue. I am deeply grateful to this young woman, for not only did she impress me with the importance of a mission and open up an entirely new world for me in the gospel, but she also helped me indirectly to find the joy of reading the New Era. You see, after two weeks out in the mission field I contracted an illness that left me with some time on my hands, and I happened onto a copy of the New Era. I read it and then frantically started searching for more copies. It may interest you to know that in a four-hour period, I read and reread seven copies.
Elder Leslie Dale MartineauCanada Halifax Mission

To conclude, I’d like to share one final story. A few years ago, I had an experience that served as a wake-up call about how important it is to be spiritually prepared. Some employees will remember this too. It was January of 2018 when all of the phones on the island went off with a loud emergency sound and message that said: “Emergency Alert: Ballistic Missile Threat Inbound to Hawaii. Seek Immediate Shelter. This Is Not a Drill.”

In that moment, I wasn’t worried about my to-do list, the emails in my inbox, or the projects I had going on at work. My thoughts went immediately to my family and to my relationship with my Heavenly Father. I felt at peace because I knew my family knew I loved them. And I knew that I would be together with my family again after I left this earth.

President Nelson has reminded us that mortality is precious and short. Although that alert was sent in error, that morning, I learned in a very real way that we don’t know how many days we have left. But we do know that Heavenly Father yearns for us to use whatever days we are given to grow into our highest potential as His sons and His daughters.

I recall a time I was babysitting my younger brother Mark, who was three years old. It was quiet, which meant trouble, so I went into the kitchen. There I found him, simply sitting on the floor playing with a long, sharp, butcher knife he had pulled from the top of the cabinet. It was bright and shiny and obviously attractive to him. I knew that potential danger, and, of course, I took it away from him. He didn’t understand. I had taken away something that was very attractive to him and something that he wanted, so he cried. When I reflect on that experience, I think of how much more infinite our Heavenly Father’s knowledge is of those things which can be hurtful to us.

After I got thinking about it, I realized that I had my own devo date almost 30 years ago while attending BYU. I asked a girl with whom I had been on several dates to go to devotional with me. I don’t remember anything about the date, but I do remember that as we were walking back across campus after devotional, we had an interesting conversation. My daughter also told me that this specific conversation is what is known as a DTR—a “define the relationship” conversation. Now, I didn’t know what a DTR was, and I wasn’t the one to start it. It certainly wasn’t a very long conversation. In fact, it was very one sided. It went something like this: “I wish you wouldn’t hold my hand in public. People might think we’re dating and not ask me out.” I said, “Okay,” and that was that.
Now, I shared this experience with you because I think I was a good example of someone who didn’t understand where he stood in a relationship. The DTR I had was needful for me to have a correct understanding of where I stood with this young woman. It was a little hard on my ego, but it was necessary for me to be able to put the relationship into proper perspective.
Honestly, I think it’s a good thing to have an occasional DTR.

During my first semester of law school, my contracts class was taught by a distinguished professor who was very kind and gracious—when he was not in the classroom. In class, he was a master at teaching using the Socratic method—a method of teaching that involves asking probing questions in a way intended to develop critical thinking.
For most class periods we were assigned to read three legal decisions or cases. During class, a student was called upon to summarize the facts of the case and then describe the legal principles of contract law that the cases established. The unfortunate student was then subject to the professor’s probing, twisting questions that followed. This was almost always a humbling experience.
The first time I was called upon, the cases dealt with a principle of contract law known as unilateral acceptance. As a result, I have never forgotten that principle.

In 1900, Thomas Yates, a Mormon student attending Cornell University in Ithaca, New York, had an interesting conversation with the cofounder of that institution, Andrew Dixon White. Dr. White had served as United States foreign minister in Russia several years earlier. He told Brother Yates of a visit he had had with the famous Count Leo Tolstoy.

Tolstoy, as you may know, is considered by many to be the greatest Russian philosopher, social critic, and novelist of all time. His best-known work, the very long classic, War and Peace. It has been read and viewed in movie form by millions the world over. The Russian movie version of it is six-and-a-half hours long. The film was so long, I’m told, they charged three different admission prices: one for those under twelve, one for those over twelve, and one for those who turned twelve during the movie! (I don’t know if that’s really true or not.)

According to Brother Yates’ recollection of what Dr. White told him concerning the exchange with Tolstoy, the renowned Russian scholar asked Dr. White to tell him about the American religion. Puzzled, Dr. White explained that we don’t have an American religion, “that each person is free to belong to the particular church in which he is interested.” Tolstoy is reported to have shown a little impatience in replying:

"I know all of this. . . . But the Church to which I refer originated in America, and is commonly known as the Mormon Church. What can you tell me of the teachings of the Mormons?"
"Well," said Dr. White, “I know very little concerning them”
"Then Count Leo Tolstoi . . . rebuked the ambassador. 'Dr. White, I am greatly surprised and disappointed that a man of your great learning and position should be so ignorant on this important subject. . . . If the people follow the teachings of this Church, nothing can stop their progress—it will be limitless. There have been great movements started in the past but they have died or been modified before they reached maturity.'
And then, according to Yates via White, Tolstoy made this remarkable prediction:
“If Mormonism is able to endure, unmodified, until it reaches the third and fourth generation, it is destined to become the greatest power the world has ever known.” (Thomas J. Yates, “Count Tolstoi and the ‘American Religion.’” Improvement Era, February 1939, as quoted by David B. Haight: "He is Not Here, He Is Risen", General Conference April 1980)

While some have questioned the accuracy of both White’s and Yates’ memories of this exchange, it is clear that Tolstoy had an interest in Mormonism and referred to it in his journal, in print, and in conversation. One of Brigham Young’s daughters, Susa Young Gates, corresponded with the count and sent him several books and pamphlets, including the Book of Mormon and The Life of Joseph Smith by George Q. Cannon. It is also clear that this bold prediction attributed to Tolstoy found its way into the speaking and writing of the Church in the early part of the 20th century.

After graduating from Cornell University in 1902, Brother Yates returned to Utah, where he apparently shared the Tolstoy prophecy with various interested members of the Church, possibly including the President of the Church, Joseph F. Smith.

Consider this experience: Once, in an elevator, I encountered a young woman who was pursuing a master’s degree. She hadn’t taken any of my classes, but I had seen her in the building and knew her to be a promising mentee of one of my colleagues. I asked her how she was doing.

Her response to me, a virtual stranger, was this: “I’m struggling today because my family thinks I have been led astray by the devil to pursue my education.”

I asked her if she herself was concerned that she was on the wrong path, as her family had suggested.

Between the first floor of my building and the seventh, this young woman bore testimony—and the Holy Ghost confirmed it to me—that the Spirit had guided her to pursue her studies and that she would continue to do what God asked of her.

Elder Goaslind enjoyed all sports but became most proficient in snow skiing. “I started skiing at the age of five and recall going up the mountain by holding on to a rope tow. The friends I skied with were neighbors, and I was glad for their patience with me as I learned. I loved the sport, and as a young man,” he related, “I was a possible candidate for the 1948 United States Olympic ski team. In those days, if you were chosen for that team, you made a four-year commitment with them. However, I would become of age to go on a mission in 1949, so it was a very hard decision for me. I remember my father encouraging me to fast and pray about it. After praying, I decided to go on a mission rather than to compete for a place on the ski team. I believe that if there is any decision that I have made with wisdom in my life, it was that one.
“Several years ago I went up to Canada, where I had served my mission, and saw my mission president for the first time in thirty years. We greeted each other with a warm embrace. And after visiting with him, I thought of how much I owed him. The influence of a mission and a good mission president is invaluable.”

The first came one afternoon in one of those rare days when I was in my office. I had been interviewing missionaries -- and the Elder serving as my secretary came to my door just as I was concluding an interview with a missionary and said "President Christensen, there is a General Authority on the line who would like to talk to you." Most of the time, when a General Authority calls a mission president, it is NOT good! In fact most often it is to discuss a problem. So, I closed my office door and picked up the telephone. "Hello, this is President Christensen" I said. The General Authority identified himself and began to ask me several pointed and detailed questions about one of our missionaries who had completed his mission some months before. His line of questioning went something like this in a very NON-SMILING VOICE (Do you know what a NON SMILING VOICE sounds like?) "President, did you have Elder _____ in your mission?" "Yes I did I responded courteously. "Well I need to know about him!" "OH NO" I thought. Was there a problem? Had he made a mistake? He was a great missionary. To my knowledge he was one of the best. I gave several positive answers to his every inquiry. Then he coaxed a second time, "President, I need to know what kind of missionary he was!" With confidence I replied "one of the best missionaries in our mission". How did he get along with his companions? Came a second round of the same questions. "Did you interview him often and can you vouch for his worthiness?" he asked. "Yes, I interviewed him often. In fact I have taught him along with all our other missionaries to live their lives according to their temple covenants and the 15 critical questions (the temple recommend questions) which they must answer in order to maintain their recommend."

With each question I remembered this wonderful missionary -- his good nature and worthiness. Then I questioned him, "Elder So and So, is there a problem with our former missionary?" There was silence on his end of the line.. for just a moment and then he asked one more time "are you sure he was an extraordinary missionary and worthy priesthood man?" "Yes" I answered again without hesitation. Then the tone of his voice changed from the NON SMILING VOICE to a CHEERFUL and almost chuckling voice (I believe he felt my anxiety and felt the need to break the tension). "Well good, I am glad you feel that way about him, because he is dating my secretary and I will not allow her to continue down the road to marriage if he isn't the best there is." I first felt a relief that there was nothing wrong and then I felt a special warmth and gratitude and love for this former missionary and his soon to be fiancé that I had not yet met. We visited for a few minutes longer about other things and then concluded the conversation. As I hung up the telephone I leaned back in my chair and felt a rush of JOY and a HAPPINESS for this young man who had become a part of my life. I felt so happy for him, that as a friend and priesthood leader. I could answer each question the way I did. He is here in the devotional today. And so is his wife! They have been blessed with their first child.

For my 17th birthday, my dad presented me with his old Volkswagen. I was ecstatic. Imagine—my very own car! I was anxious to take a drive. A long drive. Somewhere. Anywhere. I suppose my excitement was, in part, a result of a boyish, budding sense of independence.
The long-awaited and sorely anticipated journey finally arrived the following summer when my parents gave me permission to drive a few states away to visit a cousin. My 15-year-old brother, Tom, accompanied me. My dad hugged me and cautioned, “Keep your sense about you, Ray. And be careful.”
It was a memorable trip, mainly because it was my—rather our—maiden voyage, of sorts. Our first real time away from home. That, in itself, was the real adventure.
As with all adventures, this one came to an end, and it was time to go home. We were tired and ready to return to the comfort of our own beds.
Tom was asleep in the backseat of the car as I snaked my way through the mountains on a high, narrow road. I had been driving all day, and it was late, so I couldn’t wait to get down off that mountain, pull off the road, and get some sleep, at least enough for a brief respite before finishing the final leg of our journey.
Being saddled with an aching want for sleep, along with a youthful helping of inexperience and irresponsibility, I was driving too fast for the conditions of the road. The night was blacker than a bad tooth. The sickle-thin cut of moon in the inky sky and the feeble, confetti-like throw of star glow provided scant illumination on the dark road. I negotiated the narrow, serpentine roadway using the almost-just-as-meager aid of the vehicle’s headlights.
Just as I was about to round yet another sharp curve, I heard a voice within me say, “Slow down. There are two deer around the corner in the road.”
Driving as fast as I was and already upon the turn, I had only time enough to react—to either ignore the voice or hurriedly follow the instruction.
I chose the latter, quickly slowing down as I took the blind curve. And there, just as the voice had forewarned, standing in the middle of the narrow roadway, were two deer, blinded by my headlights and too startled to move.
Had I not heeded the voice, I would have swerved to the left and driven off the edge of the huge drop-off.
After maneuvering around the deer, I proceeded on our route. It was good to be home again. As I lay in my own bed with my hands tucked under my head, I realized that as much as I looked forward to the notion of one day being on my own, I hoped that wherever life found me, I would be living righteously enough to always have the companionship of the Holy Ghost.

When the Civil War erupted, Louisa felt a need to do her part. In 1862, she moved to Washington, D.C., and served as a nurse in the Union Army. She worked hard and got very little sleep because of her concern for the wounded soldiers. She became a trusted friend of many of the young patients. However, after only a few weeks at the hospital, Louisa became very ill with typhoid fever. Her father arrived in time to take her back home, where fresh air, rest, and her mother’s care helped her to recover. Later Louisa compiled the letters that she had written to her family from Washington about the suffering soldiers into a book called Hospital Sketches.

One summer I took my son and his friends through some canyons in southern Utah. On the last day of our trip, we hiked through Muddy Creek, a narrow, water-carved sandstone canyon. Muddy Creek has the greatest mud on earth! It was simply wonderful!
Skating and sliding along the creek bank was sheer delight to those boys. Though they did not dwell on the majesty of the setting, I think their reactions revealed something just the same. I watched the boys sliding wildly across the mud, saw their fascination with the sound it made as they pulled their feet out of it, and watched the exhilaration of their races over it. Occasionally in life we get the feeling that we are being watched; there is a certain silence that causes us to look around. That day I felt that silence and sheepishly looked to see if anyone was watching. No one was there, but Someone was watching. I could feel his delight in our delight.

Jenny’s friend Shella was coming over to play, and Jenny had great plans. She wanted to show Shella her little sewing machine that really worked. She wanted to take turns jumping rope with the pink jump rope. And after that she wanted to play a game.
“Shella’s here!” Mom called.
Jenny ran to the door to greet her friend. But before she could take Shella into the house, Shella ran to the backyard and exclaimed, “Let’s ride bikes!”
Jenny’s younger sister Holly was outside. She pointed to a big green bike. “You can ride that one, Shella. It’s our sister Mary’s, but she never rides it.”
Shella’s eyes sparkled. “I love to ride bikes. Can we ride all the way to the end of your road? I wish I lived on Sibyl Road. It has so many shady trees, and there aren’t any cars on the road. Come on, let’s go!”
Shella and Holly swung onto their bikes and started down the driveway. The next thing Jenny knew, they were pedaling down the road without her.
Jenny didn’t know what to do. Her throat tightened, and tears formed in her eyes. She wanted to shout out, “Holly didn’t invite you over. I did! What about my plans?”
Jenny’s mind was stuffed with thoughts and questions: “Why did Holly have to get in the way? What should I do? I’m so mad and so sad. I should just forget them and go inside.”
Jenny wondered if she should tell Mom or Dad. But she knew what Dad would say: “Just be a peacemaker.”
Jenny looked down Sibyl Road and saw Shella riding next to Holly. They were getting farther away. She thought about how Shella didn’t have a bike, and even if she did she couldn’t ride on the busy highway near her home. All her brothers and sisters were older, so she didn’t have anyone to ride bikes with.
“Shella likes riding bikes, and she likes being with Holly,” Jenny thought. “I guess I could ride bikes too. Maybe they didn’t mean to hurt my feelings.”
Jenny had a calm, peaceful feeling. She got on her bike and rode out to meet Shella and Holly.
“We made it to the end of the road and back,” Shella said. “Let’s do it again. I love coming to your house to ride bikes!”
All three girls pedaled up and down the street again and again. A smile spread across Jenny’s face as they laughed together. Jenny realized that she could still have fun even if her plans didn’t work out. She was happy that Shella was having such a good time. Jenny planned on riding bikes the next time Shella came over to play.

I have been blessed with much. But one blessing always seemed to escape my grasp—a sense of self-worth. I know it did not help that I constantly compared myself with others. Often I would contrast my greatest weakness with another’s greatest strength. I was competing against the combined population of the world, and I wasn’t winning.
One day at school I had a particularly hard battle. My opponents were classmates who I felt were succeeding marvelously in ways I felt I was failing miserably. Frustrated and depressed, I wandered away from them and sat down in a secluded school hallway. I did everything in my power to fight back the tears trickling down my face.
Finally, I pulled out my Book of Mormon and started reading. I came across a scripture in 1 Nephi 19:9 [1 Ne. 19:9]: “And the world, because of their iniquity, shall judge him to be a thing of naught; wherefore they scourge him, and he suffereth it; and they smite him, and he suffereth it. Yea, they spit upon him, and he suffereth it, because of his loving kindness and his long-suffering towards the children of men.”
The Spirit of the Holy Ghost came upon me and filled my whole being with understanding. Never had a scripture meant more to me than that one did at that time. More tears fell from my eyes.
The world viewed Jesus Christ himself with enmity and spite. Yet he triumphed. He knew who he was and what he had to do. He did not let the world’s rejection affect his self-image, destroy his relationship with his Father, or stop him from doing what he knew was right. I left my secluded hallway determined to succeed no matter how I am—or think I am—received by the world.

Politicians began worrying over this new phenomenon. Enemies were organizing, and the Prophet’s life was becoming endangered. After months of imprisonment in the dark, damp dungeon known as Liberty Jail, a discouraged Joseph cried out to the Lord:

O God, where art thou? And where is the pavilion that covereth thy hiding place?
How long shall thy hand be stayed, and thine eye, . . . behold from the eternal heavens the wrongs of thy people and of thy servants, . . .
Yea, O Lord, how long shall they suffer these wrongs and unlawful oppressions, before thine heart shall be softened toward them. [D&C 121:1–3]

Then a loving, answering Savior promised Joseph:

The ends of the earth shall inquire after thy name, and fools shall have thee in derision, and hell shall rage against thee;
While the pure in heart, and the wise, and the noble, and the virtuous, shall seek counsel, and authority, and blessings constantly from under thy hand.
And thy people shall never be turned against thee by the testimony of traitors.
. . . Thou shalt be had in honor; . . . and thy voice shall be more terrible in the midst of thine enemies than the fierce lion, because of thy righteousness; and thy God shall stand by thee forever and ever. [D&C 122:1–4]

Often as a young girl I would accompany my bishop father to the church and wait until his meetings or interviews were over. I would busy myself by exploring. I knew every nook and cranny of that building. One of my favorite rooms was the tower room. It was a large room at the top of some steep steps. Inside there was a picture of the Savior, which hung over a large fireplace. I was always drawn to that room. I would ascend the steps and reverently go inside. I would sit on a chair and look at the picture of the Savior and pray to Heavenly Father. These were simple prayers. But always when I prayed, a very special feeling seemed to engulf me, and I knew that He heard my childlike prayers. This is where I began to believe.