Gospel Story Finder

Finally the war ended, and the family moved to Namur. “That’s where we had our first home. We were so glad! It was the first time in my life that I could look out the window and see a garden.”
Elder Didier was then sixteen, and he often played in the garden with his twelve-year-old sister and his two younger brothers. “That was our favorite spot. We lived on a hill, and we watched people go up and down the street.
“One day we saw two young Americans pushing their bicycles up the hill. In the afternoon they passed again, heading downhill. This went on day after day. We were so curious that when they finally came to our house, all four of us rushed to the door, yelling, ‘Let them in. We want to know what they’re doing!’”
That was the first of many visits from the missionaries.
“My mother quickly gained a testimony of the gospel, and within six months she became a member of the Church. She knew that it was right, and she was convinced that this was our salvation. But Father would not let us children be baptized until we were older, so we had to wait, even though he let us go to all the meetings.
“I would say that bit by bit the gospel principles penetrated our minds and our hearts. I never smoked. I never drank. I loved the truth, and I loved the missionaries. They were the greatest friends we had.” Eventually all four Didier children became members of the Church.

Katy Ballenger knows a lot about serving others. Katy has spent countless hours volunteering at Primary Children’s Medical Center and the Shriners’ Hospital in Salt Lake City. She has also given many hours of service to various groups at her school and to elderly neighbors. Katy enjoyed all of her service activities so much, she decided to show her classmates how they could get involved. She formed a club at her school called HUGS (Help Us Give Service), which links students with opportunities to serve.
Katy, a Laurel in the Butler First Ward, Salt Lake Butler Stake, has been recognized by many local and national volunteering organizations for her many accomplishments. She has also had the chance to speak to several groups, including a recent meeting of the national “Community of Caring” organization.
“Although I’m not speaking in a church setting, I always pray to have the Spirit with me when I talk about the importance of service,” says Katy. “When I spoke to the ‘Community of Caring’ people, the Spirit was very strong, even though it wasn’t a church meeting. It was so neat.”

When Elder Widtsoe was released as president of the mission in 1934, I started correspondence with Elder Joseph F. Merrill, who succeeded him. He arranged to send me the Millennial Star, which I received until 1940 when World War II interrupted the subscription.
In January 1937, Elder Richard R. Lyman, successor to President Merrill, wrote that he and Elder Hugh B. Brown would be in Rome on a certain day. I could meet them there and be baptized. However, the letter was delayed because of war conditions, and I did not receive it in time.
From then until 1949, I was cut off from all news of the Church, but I remained a faithful follower and preached the gospel of the dispensation of the fulness of times. I had copies of the standard works, and I translated chapters into Italian and sent them to acquaintances with the greeting, “Good day. The morning breaks—Jehovah speaks!”
On February 13, 1949, I sent a letter to Elder Widtsoe at Church headquarters in Salt Lake City. Elder Widtsoe answered my letter on October 3, 1950, explaining that he had been in Norway. I sent him a long letter in reply in which I asked him to help me to be quickly baptized, because I felt that I had proven myself to be a faithful son and servant of God, observing the laws and commandments of his kingdom. Elder Widtsoe asked President Samuel E. Bringhurst of the Swiss-Austrian Mission to go to Sicily to baptize me.
On January 18, 1951, President Bringhurst arrived on the island and baptized me at Imerese. Apparently, this was the first baptism performed in Sicily. Then, on April 28, 1956, I entered the temple at Bern, Switzerland, and received my endowment. At last, to be in the presence of my Heavenly Father! I felt that God’s promise had been fully fulfilled—the day had come indeed when the source of the book was known to me and I was able to enjoy the effects of my faith.

Thursday afternoons were also a special time for the great district of Jauja. At 3:50 on that day they attended their Ambassadorship class. In this class they learned how to be effective ambassadors of Christ. This involved learning how to teach with empathy and respect, avoid prejudice, and adapt the presentation of the message to the needs and beliefs of the recipient. Everyone looked forward to these classes because they not only taught exciting and vital principles but involved fun activities. One day, for example, the class was divided into two different cultures, the “alphas” and the “betas.” The missionaries learned firsthand the devastating effect of prejudice on gospel communication. On most days the district had a morning class taught by Elder Bishop, an afternoon class taught by Sister Smithson (this one was divided in the middle by their gym period), and a practice and review class in the evening. In the morning and afternoon classes, the teachers instructed them in language, the gospel, the missionary discussions, and teaching techniques, according to a prescribed outline (although neither of the teachers hesitated to follow their inspiration or observation if they saw that the program needed to be adjusted). The evening class was called Practice and Review, and it was a different story. Although a teacher was available to help, each missionary worked on what he felt he needed most. If he chose not to work at all, he had his free agency, but he soon learned that there were consequences for free agency abused. These consequences were lack of progress and loss of the Spirit. And the loss of the Spirit was what every missionary came to dread above all else, because without the Spirit he or she could do nothing.

Their classroom became the focal point of their lives. Here they worked and stretched and strained and put on mental and spiritual muscle. A large sign on the wall proclaimed Capte la Vision (Catch the Vision). This came as close as anything to being the unofficial motto of the MTC. This vision was, by definition, something that could not be fully expressed in words, but it involved the eternal implications of missionary work—the stunning reality of the cosmic struggle between good and evil and the central role played by humble elders and sisters. A small sign by the light switch proclaimed “May the 4s be with you.” This referred to a program called “Speak Your Language,” which encouraged foreign-language missionaries to speak their mission language exclusively. Each day they rated themselves between one and four based on their success. Each week in which a missionary accumulated enough fours, he put a sticker on his name tag.

There were, of course, hard times as well as happy times—times when the language wouldn’t come, times when the discussions wouldn’t stick, times when it all seemed impossible. At such times the inspiration of the district organization was plain. These young men and women loved and supported one another with a fierce loyalty. If one was suffering, they all rallied round. If help with Spanish was needed, the help was given. If anti-homesickness therapy was called for, that was offered. When discouragement or even despair threatened, it was staved off with faith and love and support. Not one of them would call himself successful while a brother or sister felt like a failure. These hard moments grew fewer and fewer as the weeks passed and the power of their missions grew within them. And if some days were hard, most were happy. There was much more laughter than tears. Most of the missionaries came to realize that they had never been happier in all their lives. Whenever the thought struck Elder Anthony that he might not even have come on a mission, it made him feel cold inside, as if he had just been narrowly missed by a runaway bus.

The teachers were also bulwarks of strength for the missionaries. Full of faith and love of the missionary work, Elder Bishop and Sister Smithson inspired the missionaries to work hard. Never in their lives had these young people studied as intensely as they did now. But along with the challenge they were given unconditional love and support. Every missionary was interviewed each week by one of the teachers, and they were able to frankly discuss needs and concerns and complaints as well as progress and goals. Each missionary was expected to set his or her own goals, and the teachers held them accountable for the goals they set. Whenever things got especially grim, the missionaries could be heard muttering to themselves, “Water to the beets.” This was a favorite saying of Elder Bishop, and reflected the uselessness of knowledge and truth and power that are not actually put into practice. Their hard work paid off, too. They all felt they had enjoyed the greatest learning experience of their lives.

As the weeks passed, the missionaries also found themselves growing in love and reverence for their Father in Heaven and their Savior. Prayer became as vital as food. And if it ever came to a choice between the two, they sometimes did without food and fasted and prayed for help. Never in their lives had they prayed so much. Each class began and ended with a hymn and prayer. Each night they gathered in their dormitories for a floor prayer. They prayed with their companions. They often escaped to the custodian’s closet for a private prayer. Countless times each day they offered silent prayers of supplication and thanksgiving. Indeed, it almost seemed that life had become one constant prayer. They had all learned by hard experience that they could not succeed without divine help.

As they prepared to go out and testify to the world, they each had to honestly ask themselves if they had a testimony of the gospel. Some were not satisfied with the answer, and they themselves became investigators, the sincerest of investigators, because their need was great. Most discovered that they had really had a testimony all along. The rest got a brand-new one and treasured it the more for having come by it with fasting, prayer, and a broken heart.

Finally, all the weeks had gone by. Some of the days had been long, but the weeks went swiftly, and the two months evaporated as if by magic. It seemed more like two days, but the time for preparation was past. Now they would soon find out if all their work and prayer had been enough.

There is a tree that grows only at the MTC. It is a banana and orange tree, and it looks just like the other young shade trees except that bananas and oranges often hang from its branches like ornaments on a tropical Christmas tree. The banana and orange tree can bloom any time of year, even when the snowdrifts are name-tag high on the tallest elder. It seems to happen especially when they serve bananas and you-know-whats in the MTC cafeteria. The stems of the fruit resemble, strangely enough, the twine that is sold at the MTC bookstore.

Maybe banana and orange trees remind missionaries of Guatemala and Florida and the Philippines and all the other fun places they’re going. Maybe they are cultivated by nostalgic missionaries from California. Or maybe the MTC is just an enchanted place where such things happen. However that may be, a perfectly splendid banana and orange tree put forth its fruit the night before the great district of Jauja left the MTC. It was a good omen. Also very tasty. It seemed a fitting good-bye to men and women whose lives had borne fruit beyond their own imagining.

In the warm glow of an early spring twilight, they climbed to the second floor of the Ben E. Rich building for their final testimony meeting. It was a meeting they had looked forward to for eight weeks, but now they had mixed feelings. Tomorrow they would fly away to a land where bananas and oranges really grew. They were eager and ready, but a little solemn as well.

They file into the room. Elder Anthony and Elder Eckhart, his companion. Elder Eckhart loved surfing. They have great surf in Peru. Elder Eckhart won’t be trying it out. Elder Kirby and Elder Sakavitch. For the first few weeks they didn’t like each other. Now they’re the best of friends. Another small miracle. Elder Gibson and Elder Hancock. Elder Gibson feels that he has been granted the gift of charity in the MTC. Elder Hancock didn’t plan on a mission, until an inspired returned missionary led him by example. Sister Dunn and Sister Carree. Sister Dunn has had experience teaching children. She says it helps her help the elders. Sister Carree is from Reims, France. She came speaking no Spanish or English. Now she speaks Spanish beautifully. Sister Steele and Sister Ellis. Sister Steele is a nurse. She says open-heart surgery doesn’t change hearts nearly so much as the MTC does. Sister Ellis likes to watch people grow. She’s had an eyeful here. Elder Bishop and Sister Smithson come too. They are as much a part of the district as the missionaries. There’s even an interpreter for Sister Carree so that she can speak in French.

The elders from the district are all going to the Peru Lima North Mission. Sisters Ellis and Steel are going to Honduras. Sister Carree is going to Ecuador. Sister Dunn is going to the Dominican Republic. The sisters all have an additional assignment in welfare services and are looking forward to strengthening the members as well as bringing new converts to the truth.

Sister Smithson speaks first. “I want each of you to know that I really do love you. I’m proud of you. … Dedicate yourselves to the Lord. Turn your lives over to him. … Remember what you’re teaching. It’s not the discussions. You’re teaching people. You’re teaching souls. You’re teaching your Father in Heaven’s children. … I hope if I’ve taught you anything it’s how to teach with the Spirit.”

They all nod their heads. This is the one thing they have all learned at the MTC. With the Spirit of the Lord they can do anything. Time after time they have achieved the impossible with his guidance. Other times, when they tried to do it alone, they have all fallen flat on their faces. They have learned to recognize the influence of the Holy Ghost, because they have needed it almost every moment of every day. They know now that they really didn’t come here to learn Spanish. That was important, but not all-important. They came here to learn the language of the Spirit. Words alone, however eloquent, could not contain everything that was in their hearts to share with those they would teach. They had to get beyond words to the one language that could express all truth.

They begin bearing their testimonies, and a strange thing happens. They are speaking in their native tongues for a change, but words somehow come hard. Still, the room echoes warmly with their new language, their real language, the real language of all mankind. They are speaking fluently in the language of the Spirit. One by one, they bear testimony of the Father and the Son, of the rich outpouring they have experienced of the gift of the Holy Ghost, of their love for one another and their sureness that they have been called of God. The MTC months have been a joyful time of unprecedented growth. They are not boys and girls now but men and women, and there is strength in them. Earlier, in sacrament meeting, they had given their farewell addresses. They spoke in Spanish, and they spoke with fluent authority on gospel principles. The Spanish may not have been flawless, but it was powerful. No one who heard them could doubt that he was listening to servants of God and messengers of truth. They are going to teach a people they love with all their hearts. It is a people they have never met, but for the last two months they have worked and prayed and struggled and sometimes even cried for the sake of that people. Love, the fruit of service, has been their harvest.

The next morning they carried their luggage out the same doors they had first entered two months since. This time it wasn’t quite such a struggle. Like the pioneers before them, they had found it necessary to lighten their load. Many a precious, unnecessary possession had already been shipped home.

The hills were green with spring, but the Jauja district was flying away beyond the equator to where fall was just beginning. In 16 months when spring paints the slopes of the Andes, they will return to greet another autumn at home. If a record of such things is kept in heaven, it will show that the great district of Jauja has sacrificed one precious summer to go and answer the Lord’s call. But the thought has probably not even occurred to them. And if it did they would only laugh. They are not counting costs. They carry with them in their hearts a light brighter than the sunshine of many summers.

So if you’re driving by Provo on a Thursday morning and see a carful of moms and dads and sisters and brothers and one white-knuckled young man in a conservative suit, you might just want to pull in behind and follow him. He’s headed in the right direction.

Second, when we struggle with our own identity and lack of self-esteem, the “pleasing word of God” (Jacob 2:8) in the scriptures will help us know who we really are and give us strength beyond our own. Recognizing my identity as God’s child was one of the sweetest moments I have ever experienced. In my early teenage years, I did not know anything about the teachings of the Savior. When I first read the New Testament, the words of Christ truly healed my wounded soul. I realized I was not alone and that I am a child of God. As I recognized my true identity before God, I realized my infinite potential through Christ’s Atonement.

I was 17 years old when the prophet, President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985), visited South Korea in 1975. I saw him in a meeting where around 400 Korean youth gathered to hear his voice.
President Kimball shared how he had studied the scriptures and prayed every day since he was young. He talked about the importance of setting priorities. He said we should attend seminary, prepare for missions and eternal marriage, and work toward salvation. He also bore his testimony.
The prophet’s words enlightened my thinking. I was in high school, but I was not interested in schoolwork. I loved sports! I played soccer whenever I had the chance and often played instead of studying. I was not a good student. After hearing the prophet, I still enjoyed soccer, but I decided to set some priorities.
I would do my best to study. I would serve a mission, be sealed in the temple, and have a happy family. I knew that if I was to have this great future, I would need to follow the prophet—no matter what.

Marcia and I were married when she had two years left to complete her Bachelors degree and I was just beginning three years of law school. During those three years we both completed our degrees and had our first two children in the process. As I share this memory with you, the biggest question I have now is how did Marcia do that? I would go to school during the day while Marcia was with the children. She went to school at night while I was with the children. At the same time we managed a 10 story condominium. Each day we had to vacuum every floor. At the end of our experience there, we each had a child on our back in a back pack as we vacuumed. I would start on the tenth floor and she on the first and we would meet on the fifth. These are some of our very best memories. We were working together to build our family and obtain our education. We would not trade those wonderful first years of our marriage for anything.

I remember a few years back my husband and I were going to a trip without our children. They were young probably like between 5-9 years of age. As we were preparing to leave we sat down with the kids to talk about how they were to behave, that they were responsible to take care of each other, that they should get along with one another, “if you act up you’re gonna get it when we get home!” Probably not in those exact words but you get the picture! They were playing and seemed not to be paying attention as young children do. Then I turned to my oldest son and said to him “now when daddy’s away you are the priesthood holder of this house. It is your kuleana to watch over your siblings (even your older sister) and to take care of them.” As I mentioned the word kuleana his whole demeanor changed. I could tell the weight of the situation in his mind and heart had changed. Tears began to drop from his eyes as I knew he was internally taking on this responsibility. I knew he understood what we were asking and that he would follow through. Many of you might be thinking, “wow, how’s those parenting skills?” But it was our way of communicating to him that this was something worth deeper thought and understanding.

There have been instances in my life when I have felt like I was rushing down a mountainside but was being sustained and led by the Lord. I was called as bishop of a large ward after I had been a member of the Church for less than three years, and I really knew nothing. I was twenty-six years old, and we had been married for only three years. Our first daughter was only one year old. I was confronted with challenges that I was unable to overcome, with ward members having marriage problems and other issues. I was a novice at marriage, and all I could do was let the Spirit carry me through the counseling that He gave on my behalf.
I remember hearing the confession of a young lady in the ward and not having the slightest idea how I should counsel her. Yet words flowed from me,11 and I remember feeling an almost out-of-body experience, as it seemed I was an observer to this interview, watching from behind where I sat as the Savior lifted this young lady’s burdens. I was in awe of the Savior’s love and ability to heal. There have been many times when all the Lord required of me was to not shift in my seat as He led me down the precipitous slope to land safely at the bottom.

I’ve made innumerable errors in my sewing projects. Those mistakes caused me to get angry and frustrated and consider giving up sewing altogether! My sewing-instructor friend taught me a great lesson one day as I was furiously ripping out a seam for the umpteenth time; she told me that ripping out a seam is like learning as we repent.
I pondered on that statement time and time again, and I realized that she was right. Every time I ripped out a seam, I learned what I had done wrong and how I could prevent it the next time. Sometimes I had to rip out the same seam numerous times, but each time found me a little better at it than the time before. And if I used that same pattern for another project, I generally avoided my earlier mistakes because I had learned from my previous experiences!
I also discovered that no mistake is irreparable, no matter how bad it may seem at the time! That lesson has brought me so much hope when it comes to learning from my mistakes of a spiritual nature. Thanks to our Savior, Jesus Christ, and His Atonement, our mistakes are repairable. We will have to work through our repentance, and it may take time, but as Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles has promised: “You have not traveled beyond the reach of divine love. It is not possible for you to sink lower than the infinite light of Christ’s Atonement shines.”5

May I just offer one or two more thoughts. One of our Latter-day Saint men during World War II was over in England. He had gone to an officer’s club where they were holding a riotous kind of celebration. He noticed off to the side a young British officer who didn’t seem to be enjoying himself at all. So he walked over to him and said, “You don’t seem to be enjoying this kind of a party.” And this young British officer straightened himself a few inches taller than he was before and replied, “No, sir, I can’t engage in this kind of a party, because, you see, I belong to the royal household of England.”

As our Latter-day Saint boy walked away he said to himself, “Neither can I, because I belong to the royal household of the kingdom of God.” Do you realize that, you young people? There are things that you cannot and must not do if you remember your heritage.

I served as a bishop during the period of the Korean War. We had received from Church headquarters a letter indicating that bishops should send a personal letter to each serviceman every month, along with a copy of the Church magazine at that time, the Improvement Era, and a subscription to the Church News. That took a little doing. In our large ward we had about eighteen servicemen. We did not have much money. The priesthood quorums, with effort, supplied funds for the subscriptions to the publications, and I took care of the letter writing. From my experience in the navy at the end of a previous war, I knew the importance of receiving word from home.
One day the sister who took the shorthand for those individually dictated letters said to me, “Bishop Monson, don’t you ever get discouraged?”
I said, “No, I don’t. Why?”
“Do you realize,” she explained, “that this is the seventeenth consecutive monthly letter you have sent to Lawrence Bryson, and you have never received a reply?”
I said, “Well, send number seventeen. It might do the job.” And it did. I received a reply from an APO number, San Francisco. Brother Bryson, far away in the Pacific, had written a short letter which began: “Dear Bishop, I ain’t much at writing letters [I could have told him that seventeen months sooner], but today has been a special day. I have been ordained a teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood. My group leader has stayed close to me, and I am grateful to him.” Then he said, “By the way, thanks for the Church News. Thanks for the magazine. But a special thanks for your letter which comes each month.”
Years later at a stake conference in the Cottonwood Stake, when Elder James E. Faust was stake president, I mentioned that experience in a stake priesthood meeting. A man came up after the meeting and said, “Do you remember me?”
I looked at him. It had probably been twenty-two years since I’d seen him. I said, “Lawrence Bryson!”
He said, “That’s me. Thanks for the letters. That’s why I’m here today.”
Where is Lawrence Bryson now? He and his wife are currently serving full-time missions. Their lives demonstrate full activity in the Church. They are searching for sheep that are lost. I think they will know where to find them. I know they will save them.
I still have that wonderful letter written to me from Lawrence Bryson and dated “Christmas Day, December 25, 1953.” It was one of the most treasured Christmas gifts ever received by me. Sure, you sometimes wonder after seventeen letters have been sent why no reply has come, but I remembered a line of truth: “The wisdom of God may appear as foolishness to men. But the greatest single lesson we can learn in mortality is that when God speaks and a man obeys, that man will always be right.” The leaders of the Church had spoken. We as bishops needed only to obey. The blessing was sure to follow.

When I was 16 years old, I met and befriended a lady with three children. We became trusted friends, although she was ten years older than me. She was having discussions with the missionaries, but at that time I was not interested. I was very frightened and stayed in the kitchen when they arrived.
One evening, when I was making food for the children, I overheard the missionaries speaking about life before birth and after death, and how we choose to have an earthly experience, just as Jesus chose to come to die for us. I felt overwhelmed on hearing this, because in my heart I always felt that we had been around forever.
Later that night I queried my friend for more information, and she told me about Joseph Smith. His story really captured my attention and I felt that it was true. I didn’t rush into anything, but weeks later when I was invited to a sports event at the Church, I decided to go to see the children having fun in the sun. And I really wanted to meet people and find out more about the teachings of the Church.
It was a beautiful day, and many people were there with their children. I was introduced to a few families and was asked if I wanted to meet the bishop. I entered the chapel and I remember the aroma to this day: it was the fresh smell of lovely, polished wood, old wood, and the smell of cakes baking in the oven. I’m not even sure if they were baking cakes that day, but that is what I smelt. It was lovely and clean and smelt homely.
When I walked through the building towards the bishop’s office, I had this overwhelming feeling of pure love and protection. I was very nervous, yet I felt such a strong sense of belonging. I will always remember the big beautiful smile on the bishop’s face, as if he was waiting for me to return home. I felt emotional and frightened at the same time because I didn’t know what to expect. These feelings were all new to me, but I felt this was a major part in my journey, my destiny, while not knowing at that time how my life would turn out. I was only 16 but I remember exactly how I felt that day. My dad had told me about these dangerous religious organisations, but there was no danger here. I only felt love, a love that I yearned to feel forever.
Feeling such love, I felt safe. I felt I was home. I knew this was so right.
This kindhearted man, the bishop, told me his name and spoke with authority, and he made me feel safe and very welcome.
He drew me in with his godly spirit. He drew me in with his smile. He drew me in with his love. He drew me in with his fatherly influence in the way he spoke to me. He drew me in.
He was a good decent man, and a fatherly influence on my shattered, insecure soul. It has taken me years to be who I am today. I was a canny, quiet kid, yet fiery when anyone hurt me. I carried so much pain. So, I love with my heart and soul, and am so overjoyed at the fact that I allowed Bishop Barratt to draw me into the gospel with his beautiful strong spiritual soul. He indeed saved me that day.
I dread to think how my life would have turned out if I had not been introduced to the Church at that time. Although I have had periods of inactivity, I have always stayed loyal to the teachings of the gospel. I have never stopped believing that the gospel is true, and during those times of inactivity, I knew with all my heart and soul that I would return.
Years on, I met my husband, and we were sealed for time and eternity. Bishop Barratt was a very important part of our gospel journey, yet sadly he was too unwell to make trips to the temple; but he did give many beautiful and sacred blessings to my husband. Over the years I would choose him to bless my children. As my children got older and had children of their own, they would also choose Bishop Barratt to bless their babies too.
Brother Ronald Barratt died in early 2021. His beautiful wife, Mary, gave my husband a few of Bishop Barratt’s tie pins, which will be treasured; it’s an honour to have something of his. It has been many years since Brother Ronald Barratt was bishop, but he brought honour to the title.
The Barratts carried out many acts of service in spreading the gospel and teaching people. They were firm examples. They stood strong in the Church through difficult times. They worked hard. Bishop Barratt also had an amazing operatic voice which could drown us all out when singing.
We all have amazing experiences with people in our lives who have been such wonderful examples. I am so grateful to many people in my life. Heavenly Father certainly knows what He is doing. He brings people into our lives for specific reasons. We are never alone, even if we sometimes feel we are.
Cherishing our surroundings and those who have helped us on our way is so important. Each person met on life’s journey can be vital to one’s spiritual growth and emotional wellbeing. Even in challenging times, people are helping to move us forward, to learn from one another through the good and the bad. Everything has its purpose. We see the beauty in others and in ourselves. We are all God’s beautiful precious creations.

Brad is ten years old and attends Primary every Sunday. He loves to sing the Primary songs, and he thinks about their messages.
One day, the Primary president told his class that they were planning a special program for the Primary children to give in sacrament meeting. She wanted the boys in Brad’s class to sing a song on the program. The other boys in the class said that they didn’t want to sing. Because his mom was a counselor in the Primary presidency, Brad knew the planning and preparing that were going into this program. He also knew that the Primary president was a special helper of Jesus Christ and that if He had asked Brad to sing, he certainly would say yes. So he raised his hand and said, “I’ll sing the song alone then!”
The Primary president was very pleased.
When he got home, his mom said, “Brad, you’ve never sung alone before—and in front of so many people! Won’t you be scared?”
Brad said that he would be very scared but that he knew that it was important to do what our leaders ask us to do.
The day of the program arrived, and Brad sat on the stand, waiting for his turn on the program. When he knew that he would be next, he became very frightened. Wondering if any sound would come out of his mouth when he started to sing, he said a little prayer. So did his mom, his dad, his sister, his brother, and the Primary president.
When he stood up to sing, the first words were a little shaky. Then, as he thought of the words he was singing, his voice became stronger and stronger:
“Dare to do right! …” (Yes, he thought, I’m doing the right thing.)
“Dare to be true! …” (I will be true to the teachings of Jesus.)
“You have a work that no other can do; …” (The Primary president asked us to sing.)
“Do it so bravely, so kindly, so well, …” (I’m not quite as scared now—and he sang with all his heart.)
“Angels will hasten the story to tell.” (My prayer is being answered, and everyone is listening to the words I’m singing.)
When he sang the second verse, he wasn’t scared anymore at all, and the words came out loud and full of meaning:
“Dare to do right! Dare to be true!
“Other men’s failures can never save you.
“Stand by your conscience, your honor, your faith;
“Stand like a hero and battle till death.
“Dare, dare, dare to do right;
“Dare, dare, dare to be true,
“Dare to be true, dare to be true.”*
Brad finished the song and sat down. He had a good feeling inside. He looked at the Primary president, then at his mom and dad. They all had tears in their eyes. His sister and brother were smiling, and he was sure that Jesus was smiling, too.

When 14-year-old Ken Welty of Centerville, Utah, learned that people in Africa needed food desperately, he decided to raise money for seeds to send to Africa.
First, Ken handed out fliers explaining what he was doing and which seeds needed to be purchased. After checking with seed companies about growing requirements, Ken assembled and sent seed packets for tomatoes, cucumbers, green beans, corn, and other foods to contacts in Mali and Botswana.
The project was a real eye-opener for Ken. “My mom and dad have jobs, and they bring home the food for us to eat,” Ken explains. “It was weird to think that there are people over in Africa who are a lot older than me, but because of my service project I am helping them feed themselves.”

Sylvan Lake was also the opening scene of a special early morning testimony meeting, planned and conducted by the Adventurers. The girls canoed across the lake to a quiet place away from the camp, where testimonies were borne and a special breakfast cooked.
“Not one canoe capsized!” an Adventurer boasted. “What do you think of that?”
“I didn’t think we could do it,” said another. “Not just the canoes, but the whole idea of an independent Adventurer camp.”
It was a different idea—one of several that emerged from Cam-Jam ’74—allowing the 31 Adventurers from all participating stakes and areas to organize and maintain their own campsite.
“It was great,” they agreed. “The work got done, but it was done by our schedule and according to our rules. For the first time we were really putting our camp skills to the test.”

The day after I was called to serve as a stake mission president, my mother, who was unaware of my new calling, told me that she had dreamed about me. She said that in this dream I had received a new position of responsibility in my church and that an older man put his hands on my head as if he were anointing me while a roomful of people watched. Then I told her about my new calling and explained the process of being set apart. I said that I would probably be set apart by an older man. I was electrified when my mother said, “I would recognize him if I saw him.”
I invited my parents to attend the meeting. After Elder S. Dilworth Young set me apart, my mother wept as she said, “That was the man in my dream!” I took this opportunity to bear my testimony to my parents and to assure them that they need not worry about me. For the first time, my dad asked me several questions about the Church. My mom just cried tears of joy as we all enjoyed the Spirit of the Lord.

Tears filled my eyes as I ran down the steps of the ballet studio. I had just told my teacher that I would not be in the Cinderella production because of our upcoming family vacation. My teacher told me that if I wasn’t in the Cinderella production it might ruin my chances of being in the Nutcracker, the production that followed.
I was so discouraged when I got home that I went straight to my room and cried. I thought about ballet and all that it meant to me, but I considered quitting because of the many long hours and dedication it required. Then I started thinking about a recent Sunday School lesson. The teacher encouraged us to go to the scriptures when we are in need of comfort. So I got out my triple combination and looked in the index for gospel themes I thought could be related to ballet. “Talent” seemed to stand out the most. I looked up Doctrine and Covenants 82:3, which says: “For of him unto whom much is given much is required.” [D&C 82:3]
After thinking about the meaning of those words, I decided to continue to dedicate time to ballet. I felt comforted, for I knew I had made the right decision.
The following morning I called my ballet teacher and asked if I could still be in the Cinderella production. He said I could, even though I would miss a few rehearsals during my family vacation.
At age 13, I have learned that the scriptures really can help when you seek comfort.

A few months back, some acquaintances of mine, Bill and Jean, a young married couple still in their teens, went to their bishop to seek help. They were being evicted from their apartment because they had failed to pay their rent. Their first child was to be born within two months. They had no food. Bill had not worked for three months after being laid off from his job as a filling station attendant. Because he lacked technical training he had been unable to secure employment.
It was obvious that Bill and Jean were unprepared for marriage and its accompanying responsibilities. They had failed to plan ahead. The pattern of their life is typical of many young people today who start dating early. Early dating often leads to steady dating, early marriage, dropping out of school, pregnancy, and, all too often, divorce with its inevitable damage to the children as well as to the husband and wife.
Since whatever occupation you choose will have such a decided effect on your life, it will be to your advantage to explore some of the thousands of choices available. The best time to study an occupation is before you make major decisions about school, military, marriage, and so forth. If you wait until you are in a circumstance like Bill and Jean who were mentioned in the beginning of the article, it may be too late or, at least, extremely difficult.

In my own lifetime I have been a witness to the miracle of the restored gospel. When I was a young girl my family moved to São Paulo, Brazil, where my father had been called to preside over the Brazilian Mission. It was an exciting time for me and a great place to grow up. A favorite game for my brothers and me was to dress up and pretend to be missionaries. We spent hours scribbling our own missionary pamphlets and “preaching” and “transferring” all over the yard. For five years the nightly conversations around our dinner table centered on missionary work, and I listened intently to stories of faith told by missionaries. Even at that age I knew I was part of a great work.
There were only about 3,000 members of the Church in Brazil when we arrived there. I remember being in a very small Primary with a few other children, singing the same five songs every week, as those were the only ones translated into Portuguese. Two of my favorite songs were “A Luz Divina,” or “The Light Divine” (Hymns, no. 305), and something about a bunny in the middle of the woods (see “The Little Rabbit,” Children’s Friend, June 1955, 257).
In many ways our experience was similar to the early pioneers. We had no hymnbooks or pictures or lesson manuals sent from the headquarters of the Church. Everything that was needed to teach the gospel in Portuguese was written and printed in our mission home. All of us, even the children, were pressed into service to help assemble mission newsletters and lessons. No one shipped the Church to us. The prophet did not send us stake presidents or bishops. He did not send Relief Society presidents or youth programs. The Church in Brazil was made from the same material that the pioneers started with. The material to build the Church was in the people.
During our years in Brazil, we saw great growth come to the Church. Thousands became Latter-day Saints. Soon the mission was divided, districts and branches were organized, and new chapels were built. The new members were enthusiastic, and they grew in faith and became more experienced in the manner of the gospel.