Gospel Story Finder

When I was called to be a Mission President, I was serving as the Senior Logistics Manager at the US Property and Fiscal Office in the National Guard. This means that I was responsible for every dollar that came from the Federal Government for the Hawaii Army National Guard. I had five Lieutenant Colonels serving under me. I went in to General Correa, a devout Catholic, and said that my church had called me to be a mission president. He said, "That's good." So I said, "That means that I either have to retire or resign." Now that caught his attention. I continued, "This is just like the Pope calling you and your wife to go to Africa and help build the Catholic Church there." General Correa turned to me and said, "Kim, if the Pope called me to go to Africa, I would take this star off my uniform, put it on the desk, salute the Hawaii National Guard, and follow the Pope. So you go with my blessing. But we had plans for you." I knew what he was saying, so I said, "Well, I'd rather be the General of Helaman's Stripling Warriors rather than the four thousand soldiers of the National Guard." He responded, "Huh?" Then I proceeded to tell him a little about the church. I learned that the Lord opens ways for us to serve him if we remain faithful. I also learned that there are many good people who are not of our faith, who will help us because of the light of Christ that is in their hearts.

Hi, I’m Jesse!
Every member can be a missionary. My stake president in California gave us a challenge to share the gospel. When I had to give a school report on a state in the United States, I knew this was my chance!
The Challenge
My teacher asked us to pick a U.S. state and build a diorama, or a miniature scene. I told my teacher I wanted Utah. I’ve been to Utah many times on family vacations. I wanted to learn more about the “Beehive State.” And I thought it might help me with missionary work!
Fun Facts
I learned that the golden spike that linked the First Transcontinental Railroad was placed in Utah. I put a picture of the Salt Lake Temple in my project. I also wrote facts about President David O. McKay (1873–1970) because he is my grandpa’s favorite prophet.
The Beehive
I wanted to show my class our Savior’s beautiful creations in my diorama. I covered a box in bees and designed it like a beehive. Beehives remind us to work as hard as bees to spread the gospel.
The Buzz about Bee-ing a Missionary
I took my school project to the open house. Everyone loved my bee box! My teacher gave me an A+! I hope people will see what a great place Utah is. Maybe they will ask questions about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I can’t wait until I’m old enough to go on a mission and share the gospel even more!

My friends and I could hardly wait for the weekend to come so we could hit the ski slopes. We were 15 years old at the time and all good skiers.
One Saturday, we had been skiing for about half the day on some pretty steep slopes. The weather was crisp. The sky was blue. All around us there was beauty, and we were having fun on the ski jumps.
As we were coming down one of the jumps, my friend Chris slipped and fell on one of his skis. His bindings popped out, and he took a hard fall. Chris took off his glove, and we were both alarmed to see blood dripping from his arm. As Chris rolled up his sleeve, I could see that he was badly cut. I asked for one of our friends to find the ski patrol.
I helped Chris take off his sweater and removed my cotton shirt with long sleeves and made a tourniquet above the deep cut. At the same time I was prompted by the Holy Ghost to have Chris hold his arm up above his head.
The ski patrol finally arrived, but they did not know that Chris had cut a main artery in his arm because the tourniquet was so well placed that it had stopped the bleeding.
Chris was rushed to the hospital. When the doctors discovered the damage to the main artery, they said Chris would have bled to death if the tourniquet had not been placed on his arm the right way and his arm held above his head.
The accident had happened fast, so I had to act quickly. I told Chris that I had been prompted by the Spirit to do the right thing. I later realized I had also followed instructions from my first-aid training as an Eagle Scout.
That evening Chris’s parents called my home and thanked me for saving their son’s life. I hope to always remember to listen to the still, small voice that directed me at that crucial time.

At the Jerusalem Center we had wonderful mature couples, service couples, who came to help us run things more smoothly. They oversaw housekeeping, for example, or played the organ, led tours, helped with secretarial work in the office, and served as marvelous grandparent figures for hundreds of students. They offered themselves as role models of happy marriages, as experienced adults with listening ears and stable backgrounds. They loved the students. I learned a lesson from a brother from one of those couples. He was a professional man—learned and wise. He was a former stake president who had clearly blessed the lives of thousands of people in his lifetime.

He told me how he and his wife had approached their time to serve a mission. He said his wife was willing to serve wherever the Lord called them. But he—in his “wisdom,” he said—had counseled the Lord about what he would be willing to do. He told the Lord and those who issue mission calls for the Lord that he couldn’t learn a language, wasn’t willing to proselyte, and would like to continue practicing his profession. So they were called as a service couple to Jerusalem. There—mingling with young people full of faith, walking where the Savior walked along the dusty roads of Palestine, and growing to love and understand the Savior’s teachings with a depth he hadn’t known before—he confided to me near the end of his stay, “Now I will go wherever the Lord wants me to go. This time I put my whole self upon the altar.”

Holly leads a busy and exciting life, so she had plenty to talk about. At the time of her grandparents’ visit, she had just finished her last year in Mt. Royal Junior High School, where she served as student-body president. She was looking forward to going on to Western Canada High School, which she is presently attending. At Mt. Royal, there were not many Mormon students, but they were admired and respected for their way of life. “You hear stories about Mormons getting teased,” she said, “but that really didn’t happen at all. It was the exact opposite. They really respected me. Several of them said, ‘How come you’re like you are? I wish I could be like you. I wish I had the family you do. I wish I had the same idea of life as you do. It seems like you’re always happy. You’re almost perfect. How can anyone have so much fun and not get drunk or even go to wild parties in the first place?’

“They just didn’t understand, and so a few of them started coming out to some of our Church activities like the dances and Mutual, and they really enjoyed it. And now they will say at school, ‘See you Saturday night at the dance.’ They don’t even want to go to wild parties anymore. They just want to come to Church activities because they see how much fun sharp Mormon kids can have without drugs or alcohol.

“The Mormon kids that I associate with are my really good friends, and we like to do stuff together. They’re always trying to do what’s right. They don’t fall because of peer pressure. I’m very fortunate to have good friends at school who have chosen the gospel way of life. We all kind of cling together as Mormons, but we also try to influence our school friends and work together to bring them to the dances and other activities. We always try to make everyone feel welcome. It’s up to us, and we’ve all realized that.”

Holly’s missionary work is paying off too. “My friends at school come to me asking about the Church, and I talk to them about it. There are about ten that are very interested right now.”

The biggest payoff of all came last year. “My best friend since grade school had been coming to church with me for a number of years, and last year her parents finally said that she could be baptized. That was probably the neatest thing that happened to me last year.”

My wife remembers how her life was touched by a question the missionaries asked. She had an extensive religious background, and one day her brother invited her to hear the missionaries. After teaching doctrine, they directed a question at her reasoning: “Why do you think The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the true Church?” The thoughts this question inspired affected her in such a way that a few seconds later her feelings were also touched. Tears came to her eyes on answering that question, and the Spirit testified to her, thus deepening the conversion process she experienced.

It was our first Christmas on the North Island of New Zealand—a beautiful and fascinating land. Yet despite the sunshine and the kindness of the Church members, I felt deep pangs of loneliness for my parents and siblings. We had moved from the United States earlier that year, and I felt homesick.
In our new area my husband and I became friends with the Wilsons, a young Irish family of another Christian faith who had also recently arrived in New Zealand. Noleen Wilson was my co-worker, and we soon became good friends, sharing experiences of immigrating and of our love for our new home. As our friendship grew, I became aware that their family was also struggling with loneliness as well as feelings of being overwhelmed. They had three young children and a fourth on the way.
One evening when I was feeling particularly lonely and sorry for myself, I had the impression that the best way to overcome my loneliness was to serve another—specifically the Wilsons. My husband and I decided that night to begin celebrating the 12 days of Christmas with the Wilsons by anonymously leaving messages and small gifts on their doorstep. Each night my loneliness was replaced with excitement and anticipation as we sneaked up to their home, left our message and gift, knocked on their door, and then ran away with big grins on our faces.
Each day at work Noleen would tell me about the mysterious “Christmas elves” who had visited the night before. She would relay stories of her children anticipating the arrival of their visitors, who were making the family’s Christmas a happy one. On several evenings the ward youth joined us in our fun.
On the final night, Christmas Eve, the Wilsons left a message and cookies on their doorstep, asking that they be able to meet their elves. When we arrived with the youth to sing carols as our final gift, the children were ecstatic and our friends embraced us with hugs and tears of gratitude. The loneliness in my heart was replaced with love and joy, and the bond of friendship between our families was strengthened.
Later we received an e-mail from a man in the Wilsons’ church who said he was so touched by what we had done for the family that he asked about our Church and the acts of service we provide for others. The congregation had never heard of the 12 days of Christmas and now associates this tradition with Latter-day Saints.
I will never forget that first Christmas in New Zealand, where I learned an unexpected way to forget myself, go to work, and “comfort those that stand in need of comfort” (Mosiah 18:9)—just as Jesus Christ comforts us in our times of need and loneliness.

Angelina stood straight and tall as she sang the Christmas carols. She wore a new white dress that Mama had made especially for her.
Angelina glanced at the tall evergreen tree reaching almost to the ceiling of the big school hall. The colored lights glowed softly over the chorus.
Everyone had brought ornaments and garlands of sparkling tinsel from home, and the tree was full and beautiful. The children in the fifth grade had built a fireplace with red cellophane inside to look like flames. Hanging from the mantel were stockings—knitted ones and felt ones with sequins and holly on the tops and the toes. Packages wrapped with beautiful papers and huge ribbon bows surrounded the tree.
As Angelina looked down at the audience, she could see Mama’s big brown eyes looking up at her. Now Mama will see, she thought. Now she’ll understand that this is the way we should celebrate Christmas in America. We live here now, and we should do things the way they do.
The final carol was “Silent Night.” The audience was asked to join in on the last verse. Angelina was embarrassed. She knew Mama didn’t know the words, and if anyone else looked at her, they would know it too. She hoped her friend Jane wouldn’t notice.
When the concert was over, Jane hurried over to Angelina and asked, “Is that your mother with the brown coat? Are those your little brothers sitting next to her?”
Angelina looked at her family. She saw them as she though Jane must be seeing them. They were different from everyone else—you could tell that right away.
Mama smiled and beckoned to her daughter. Angelina knew that Jane wanted to meet her family, but she left her standing alone in the hall with only a hurried goodbye. “I have to run. See you later!”
Angelina put her thin coat on over her new white dress and took each of her little brothers by the hand. Together they crunched over the snow and pushed through the brown slush at the curbs, breaking a path for Mama.
Little José shivered as Angelina picked him up. “Well,” she said, “how did you like the Christmas program?”
“Pretty,” he said. “Pretty.”
She hugged him and he let his head drop to her shoulder. “I liked it,” he said shyly.
“I’m glad you did,” said Angelina, “and I’ll bet Roy did too.”
“I liked it,” Roy said, “but I also like our Christmas.”
“Oh, but that’s so old fashioned,” Angelina snapped. “It’s not the same in this country. Putting straw in your shoes for the wise men’s camels is just plain silly! And why don’t we have Christmas on Christmas Day? Why wait twelve days? I couldn’t stand our old Christmas anymore now that I know what a real Christmas is.”
She turned to help Mama over a large puddle of slush. Mama’s face looked a little sad, and for a minute Angelina felt unhappy about what she’d said. But, after all, they were in America now and they might just as well live like their neighbors.
By the time Christmas Eve finally arrived, Angelina made sure everyone had a stocking to hang up. They pinned their stockings to the back of Papa’s chair.
Papa had brought home a tree, and Angelina decorated it with a string of lights she bought with her baby-sitting money. The boys helped hang ribbons and a bird from one of Mama’s hats on the tree.
“We need something with sparkle!” Papa said as he tied silver spoons all over the tree. When he turned off the ceiling light and plugged in the tree lights, it was lovely.
Angelina looked at her brothers. “How do you like an American Christmas now?”
Little José clapped his hands and said, “Pretty. Pretty.”
But Roy called, “Mama! Where is the straw for our shoes? What will the camels do for straw? And where are the luminarias (lamps) and the candles to go in them?”
Angelina felt hot anger rise in her throat and soar up into her cheeks. “Roy! We don’t do that anymore,” she scolded.
“That’s for Mexico. This is America! Don’t you understand?”
“Why, Angelina!” Mama said.
“Well, why don’t they try to understand?” Angelina asked.
“They are trying,” her mother said. “But it’s hard for them to learn the new ways. It’s hard for all of us—even for you.”
Angelina ran to her room. Her throat ached as she held back the tears. Why couldn’t her family see what she was trying to do? If Jane ever came over to the house and saw luminarias and straw in their shoes, she would think it very strange.
Baby Linda made a little sound and Angelina bent to look at her in the cradle Papa had made. Linda looked like the baby in the manger scene at Las Posadas, when everyone in town, carrying candles, joins a procession looking for shelter for Joseph and Mary. Linda looked just like that baby. Angelina lightly ran a finger over Linda’s smooth soft cheek. Then she walked out of the bedroom and stood looking at her family.
She suddenly realized that Papa had always played the part of Martolo, the lazy shepherd, in the Christmas play in Mexico. He had accepted the part from Grandfather with tears in his eyes. “I’ll do it well, Papa,” he had said. “Then I’ll give the part to Roy when he is old enough.”
Angelina looked at Mama and remembered how in Mexico she always had a supply of bizcochitos (rolls) and candy for the children who went from door to door singing songs.
But most of all, she thought of Roy and little Jose. How much they would miss if they never put out shoes of straw for the camels, joined a Las Posadas procession, or hit a pinata with a stick until all the candy and toys showered out over them!
“Mama!” Angelina burst out. “Mama, I was wrong.”
Everyone turned to look at her. Mama held out her arms and Angelina ran into them.
“I can hardly wait for January sixth, the Day of the Wise Men,” she cried. “Then we can do all the things we have always done—the lovely old things.”
“The new is good, Angelina,” Mama said, “but the old ways are good too. Many people here do not know about our customs. Maybe we could show them. You could invite a friend.”
“Jane would come,” Angelina said.
“She might like to see how we celebrate Christmas,” Mama said.
“I’ll go get the straw for the shoes,” said Roy.
Angelina laughed. “No, Roy,” she said. “That isn’t until the Day of the Wise Men on January sixth. Remember?”
“We all remember,” said Mama very quietly.
Angelina smiled. “I remember too, Mama,” she said. “And it’s good to remember.”

For example, a sister and brother from Colorado, USA, have each been baptized for more than 50 of their ancestors this past year and have experienced the purity of the temple. The brother said, “I get a good, spiritual feeling when I’m in the temple. Later, when I face temptations, I remember that feeling and it helps me.” In an effort to live worthy of attending the temple, the sister wrote a list in her journal of what she will and will not do when faced with temptation. She took a stand, and she even shared the list with her parents and friends so they could help her. These two young people have created a powerful moral armor for their hearts, minds, and bodies.

Over the years I’ve put in my share of elbow grease in Grandpa’s garage. I would change oil in the countless cars that rolled into the shop, driven by people asking for my grandpa to work on their vehicles. Grandpa would always smile and treat his loyal customers to at least a half-hour’s worth of conversation. I helped clean the brake drums and apply body filler to the Mustang, which soon became my favorite car in the garage. We spent many hours working in the crowded space. I treasured the time I got to spend with my grandpa working in the garage.
The years have raced by, and I am older now. But working with Grandpa is still special to me. Whenever I come back to visit, it seems like there is always a new project or something that needs to be done. The distance makes me treasure our time together so much more.

Now I would like to tell you of a little experience I had in the mission field that illustrates what I think the Lord meant when he indicated that not only would the Prophet bring forth His word, but he would bring men to a conviction of His word that had already gone forth among them.

When I was in Holland, I was invited to talk to a Bible class of businessmen. We met in the home of a prominent furniture dealer. There were about twenty men; each had his Bible. The only woman there was the daughter of the man of the house. They gave me an hour and a half to discuss universal salvation, which includes our work for the dead, preaching in the spirit world, and baptism of the living for the dead. I just gave them chapter and verse and let them read the passages in their own Bibles. Then when I was through, I closed my Bible and waited for comments.

The first comment came from the daughter of the man of the house. She said: “Father, I just can’t understand it. I have never attended one of these Bible classes in my life that you haven’t had the last word to say on everything. And tonight you haven’t said a word.”

The man shook his head and said: “My daughter, there isn’t anything to say. This man has been teaching us things we have never heard of, and he has been teaching them to us out of our own Bibles.”

I could tell you many more stories like that!

The story is told of a rancher who one Sunday found himself the only person in church. The minister came down from the pulpit and asked him whether or not he should go ahead with the service, and the man replied, “If I go out to feed my sheep, and only one comes, I still feed him!” The minister returned to his pulpit and preached a powerful sermon for over an hour, then came back down to the rancher and asked how he liked it. The man replied, “If I go out to feed my sheep, and only one comes, I sure don’t feed him the whole load!” A wise leader can profit from this counsel and provide the feed where it is needed.

The third miracle involved a series of events that allowed Ray to travel 1,532.8 kilometers to attend the temple for the first time.
Cancer required the removal of Ray’s stomach, but while recovering from massive surgery, the Gambles taught him temple preparation lessons, which he continued after leaving the hospital.
Branch President Schwalger granted permission for the missionaries to resume Ray’s lessons over the phone and at his home. The Gambles used skeins of yarn and other props to review principles like the plan of salvation.
Ray eventually received his temple recommend, and with aid from the General Temple Patron Assistance Fund he prepared to receive his endowment.
Two weeks before his scheduled temple date, the Gambles received a call from Ray. Sister Gamble recalls, “He was in the hospital and told us he just wanted to die. We found him in the emergency department having a vial of potassium administered intravenously, which is apparently quite painful. Elder Gamble gave him a blessing, which helped him tolerate the procedure.”
Once Ray was cleared for travel, the long-awaited moment finally arrived. Ray and the missionary couple set out on 30 January 2024, and the group walked into the temple the following day.
At 81 years old now, Ray was able to participate in proxy baptisms and confirmations for his male ancestors. Then he used his Melchizedek Priesthood authority, for the first time, to perform proxy confirmations on Sister Gamble for his female ancestors. “I was moved to tears when Ray placed his hands on my head,” says Sister Gamble.

First, living the gospel of Jesus Christ. Jens of Denmark prays daily to live the gospel and notice promptings from the Holy Ghost. He has learned to act quickly when he feels directed by the Spirit.

Jens shared the following:
“We live in an idyllic, small, half-timbered house with a thatched roof, in the center of a cozy little village, close to the village pond.
“On this night with the most beautiful Danish summer weather imaginable, doors and windows were open, and everything breathed peace and quiet. Due to our gloriously bright and long summer nights, I had not been in a hurry to replace a burned-out light bulb in our utility room.
“Suddenly, I got a strong feeling that I had to replace it immediately! At the same time, I heard my wife, Mariann, call for me and the children to wash our hands because dinner was ready!
“I had been married long enough to know that this was not the time to start doing anything else than washing my hands, but I heard myself calling out to Mariann that I would just pop over to the store to buy a new light bulb. I felt a strong urge to leave immediately.
“The grocery store was only on the other side of the pond. We usually walked, but today I grabbed my bike. While riding past the pond, out of the corner of my eye I noticed a small boy, about two years old, walking alone near the edge of the pond, very close to the water—suddenly he fell in! One minute he was there—and the next he was gone!
“No one had seen this happen but me. I threw my bike on the ground, ran, and jumped into the waist-high pond. The surface of the water immediately closed with duckweed, making it impossible to see through the water. Then I sensed a movement to one side. I put my arm in the water, got hold of a T-shirt, and pulled the little boy up. He started gasping, coughing, and crying. Soon afterward the boy was reunited with his parents.”

As Brother Jens prays each morning for help to recognize promptings from the Holy Ghost, even something as unusual as to immediately change a light bulb, he also prays that he can be used as a tool to bless God’s children. Jens lives the gospel by seeking divine direction each day, striving to be worthy, then doing his best to follow that direction when it comes.

Several years ago, my wife and I were on the verge of getting a divorce because of my problem with alcohol. Not even our daughters’ tears could change me. When the missionaries visited our home, it did not take long for my wife and daughters to be baptized, but I would not accept the things of God.
My addiction to alcohol controlled my life. I would go to bars after work and often missed work because I was drunk. When I drank, I became physically aggressive. I often got into arguments and fights with others.
When I would leave for work, my daughters would cry and ask to go with me to keep me from drinking. I promised them I wouldn’t drink, but I never kept my promises. I just wanted to keep drinking.
Eventually, I realized I needed help. With the help of the missionaries, I worked to overcome my addiction. For a while, I couldn’t stop drinking for more than a week at a time.
Then one day the missionaries shared a passage from the Book of Mormon that changed my life: “And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them” (Ether 12:27).
I needed the Savior’s help. Without Him, I would never overcome my addiction. I found that the more I relied on Him, the longer I could go without drinking. After several visits with the missionaries, I accepted their invitation to be baptized.
Since then my life has changed. More than eight years have gone by, and I have not tried even one drop of alcohol. Today I am free, and I owe it all to the Lord.

Paulo flicked a few drops of water onto his customer’s shoes and then snapped his buffing rag furiously across the already shining surface. The effect was amazing.
“Paulo! They shine like polished silver,” the man exclaimed. “You must be the best shoeshine boy in Rio de Janeiro. No, in all of Brazil!”
Chico (Little One), Paulo’s pet monkey, was tied to Paulo’s shoeshine box by a leather thong and was now chattering angrily from Paulo’s shoulder. His shrill voice screeched louder and louder as he flipped one somersault after another, while slapping his pink bald head with his tiny, wrinkled hands.
“Oh, excuse me, Chico,” the man said. “I did not mean to forget you, for you are, indeed, the best little monkey in all of Brazil.” Smiling, the man reached into his pocket and pulled out a shiny coin. “You can have this, Chico, or give it to Paulo for his new futebol (soccer ball) that he is trying to buy.”
Jabbering happily, the little monkey took the coin and flipped it high into the air to Paulo. He then stood tall and straight, proudly clapping his hands.
“It would seem that Chico wants you to buy that new futebol,” the man remarked. “And so do I. Because of your fine work, here’s an extra cruzeiro (Brazilian dollar) to help you buy it.”
“Muito obrigado (thank you very much),” Paulo said excitedly, stuffing the money deep into his pocket. “That’s the last cruzeiro I need to buy the futebol. But how did you know I was saving for one?”
“How did I know?” the man laughed. “I think the whole town knows. Now, if you hurry, you may still have time to buy a futebol before the store closes.”
“You’re right!” Paulo said with a grin.
Clutching his shoeshine box under one arm and Chico under the other, Paulo raced through the city streets. The evening shadows were beginning to fall as the ice-cream wagons and bakery stands folded up their umbrellas and wheeled their portable units home. Merchants were pulling together metal doors to be locked into place for the night.
“Oh, Chico! I’m afraid we’re too late to buy the ball tonight,” Paulo said breathlessly as he rounded the last corner and came to a stop in front of the soccer supply store. The door was already bolted shut. “We’ll just have to come back in the morning.”
Chico sat in silent disappointment, then shrieked with excitement when Paulo pulled an old ball of rags from the shoeshine box. “Just think, Chico,” Paulo said, bouncing the ball neatly from one foot to the other, “tonight’s the last night for this old ball. Tomorrow I’ll have a real futebol.”
Paulo skillfully lofted the ball high into the air and slightly ahead of him. With perfect timing, he stepped under the falling ball and struck it a sharp blow with his forehead, sending it rolling down the street.
As Paulo slowly dribbled the rag ball homeward, it was easy to pretend he was a soccer hero. He imagined himself making first one goal and then another to tie the score. The fans were on their feet, urging Paulo’s team to win. Paulo received a quick pass from a teammate and, looking for someone to pass to, deftly dodged a charging defender. All of my teammates are covered, Paulo dreamed on. The crowd’s roar rose to a deafening pitch as Paulo sidestepped yet another defender and rifled the ball with a sharp kick that scored the winning goal. The crowd’s chant was music to his ears—“Paulo! Paulo! Paulo!”
The sound of breaking glass brought Paulo back to his senses. Chico was scolding angrily and jumping up and down on his master’s shoulder, and the fear in Paulo began to grow. He crept slowly up to a gate set in a high yellow wall that surrounded an expensive-looking house. Peering through the wrought iron gate, Paulo saw his homemade rag ball lying amid the broken remains of a beautifully decorated vase on the front porch of the house.
Paulo’s stomach tightened with fear. “A broken vase!” groaned Paulo. “That vase must cost more than three futebols.” Looking around quickly and seeing no one, Paulo began to run.
Chico disapproved and went wild, leaping and turning somersaults on Paulo’s shoulder and squawking at the top of his voice.
“Would you please be quiet, Chico! What do you know, anyway?” Paulo asked. “You’re just a monkey and people don’t put monkeys in jail or take their futebol money. So please be quiet.”
Chico’s chattering stopped and Paulo soon slowed to a walk. His legs still felt rubbery, but the pounding in his chest didn’t hurt quite so much now. What really bothered Paulo was his conscience, and he knew what he had to do to remedy that. “Chico, I have to go back,” Paulo said, retracing his steps. “Remember that church song I sometimes sing to you, ‘Do What Is Right’? Well, now I must do what is right.”
But I’m so scared, Paulo thought as he stopped in front of the house with the high yellow wall.
Looking through the gate, Paulo could see the empregada (maid) cleaning up the broken vase. He got her attention by clapping his hands (a Brazilian custom for entering a yard).
“Por favor (please), could you get the dono (owner) for me?” Paulo asked. “I must speak to him about the vase.”
The empregada left and returned in a few minutes with a tall, kind-looking man. “Can I help you, young man?” the dono asked.
Paulo hesitated. He knew what he wanted to say, but somehow, he couldn’t open his mouth to say it.
“Go on. Don’t be afraid.”
The dono seemed so friendly that before he knew it, Paulo was blurting out the whole story to him. “And that’s what happened,” he concluded. “It was an accident, Senhor, but I have money to pay for the vase.” Paulo dug deeply into his pocket and held out all the money he had been saving for his futebol. “It’s not much, but I hope it’s enough so I won’t have to go to jail.”
“You won’t have to go to jail,” the man said with a laugh. Then he added, “You must be Paulo.”
Paulo gulped. “Yes, I’m Paulo. But how did you know that?”
The man laughed again. “I think the whole town knows of Paulo and Chico and how hard they’ve been working for a new futebol.”
The man looked long and hard at Paulo and then sat down. “Paulo, it took courage to come back here when no one knew that you were the one who broke the vase. Yet, you came back and brought me your futebol money. Why?”
Paulo looked the man straight in the eye. “No one else knew, Senhor, but I did,” he said quietly.
“I’m glad you came back and that we had this talk,” the dono said, shaking Paulo’s hand. “You keep your money and buy that new futebol.” The man’s bright eyes twinkled with a smile. “However, you must repay me for the vase.”
“But, Senhor, I’ve not enough money for both the vase and the futebol,” pleaded Paulo. “How can I do both?”
“You will have to shine my shoes for three months as payment,” the man explained. “I have heard that you’re the best shoeshine boy in town. But today, because of your courage and honesty, I think you must be the best boy in all of Brazil!"

Like many little girls, when Maria Victoria Rojas Rivera of Chile—Mavi to her friends—was four years old, she decided she wanted to become a ballerina. And like all of those other little girls, she quickly discovered that the grace and freedom she saw on the stage came at a pretty steep price. The effort and discipline required to become a professional ballerina are too much for many young dreamers.

“When you’re little, you don’t understand the sacrifice it takes,” Mavi says. “When I started studying at age 10, our teachers told us that half of our lives would be spent dancing. We’d have to give up a lot of things.”

Things like free time and certain foods. Mavi would have to put a lot of time and effort into exercising and practicing. She’d have to watch carefully what she ate. And after schoolwork and dance, there wouldn’t be much time for friends.

Mavi decided that her dream was important enough to her to try.

“The teenage years can be a complicated time,” she says. “My friends didn’t always understand why I wouldn’t eat certain things or stay out late with them.”

Mavi learned early on that what appeared to be restrictions on her freedom were actually the only way she could free herself from things that would keep her from her goal.

“I chose not to stay out late, and I chose to spend time practicing instead of going to the mall with my friends,” Mavi says. “If I was tired because I stayed out too late or if I didn’t know the steps because I didn’t practice, I couldn’t dance.”

That kind of discipline isn’t easy, but Mavi says it is worth it.

“Everyone has moments when you want to give in,” Mavi confesses, “but you have the power to choose. Discipline can appear restrictive, but self-discipline is a choice. And I chose to accept this lifestyle in order to dance.”

A ballerina can make her body move in ways that would hurt most other people. This freedom of movement is essential for communicating with the audience. But even though a good ballerina makes every move look effortless on stage, she has put in a lot of effort off the stage.

After eight years of sacrifice and hours of training almost every day, she was living her dream on stage—and in the gospel.

“People think it looks so beautiful and graceful,” Mavi says. “But the movements are very controlled. It takes a lot of strength to control yourself like that.”

“The rewards from so many sacrifices are that I can dance,” Mavi says. “I feel strong, and I feel the guidance of the Holy Ghost in every step I take—on stage and off.”

Each young man and young woman of the High Country Ward, San Antonio Texas Stake, received a mysterious message marked “Top Secret.” They were instructed to memorize the contents of the letter and discuss it only with their parents if they chose to accept their assigned “secret mission.”
Those involved in the planning of the event kept things to themselves. On the assigned day, 42 youth met at the church parking lot. After being divided into teams, the groups traveled to their final destination, Camp Bullis, a military installation nearby.
Then the real adventure began. The groups of young people were introduced to a specially designed obstacle course, created to help military personnel practice problem-solving and team-building skills. Each station on the course involved problem-solving situations and physical barriers that had to be overcome. The participants started to take the team building experience seriously. Amid high-fives, cheers, and hugs, a new feeling of concern for each other emerged in the teams. One young woman feared heights and couldn’t bring herself to climb a 20-foot cargo net, but she didn’t want to let her team down. An alert team member, sensing her dilemma, said, “Don’t look up or down, just look at me and let’s go.” Together they successfully made the climb.
As the groups began to work on the course obstacles, their differences seemed to evaporate.
Discord became harmony. Harsh words were replaced with friendship. A spirit of selflessness and caring among all the teams became evident.
After the morning’s exercise, they returned to the meetinghouse for a barbecue and to review what they had experienced. Overwhelmingly the response was positive, and for a time the youth felt a oneness that proved to them that by working together they could overcome any challenge they meet.

“We ended up living in Yuba City,” says Rachel W., 17, “and so I had to get up an hour earlier just to make it to seminary in the morning. Maybe it’s because of that little sacrifice to get there, but I’ve noticed that since the fire I love seminary even more. My day is always better and I like being with all the Paradise kids again. It’s amazing to see how everyone’s testimony has been strengthened after the fire.”

Emma K. came from Midvale, Utah, to visit Sister Cheryl C. Lant, Primary general president. Emma and Sister Lant talked about the purpose of Primary while they toured the Relief Society Building. The Relief Society Building is where the offices of the general presidencies of the Primary, Young Women, and Relief Society are. It has beautiful displays about the purpose and history of these organizations.
“What good things are the children of the Church doing?” Emma asked.
“One of the best things they are doing is learning from their scriptures,” Sister Lant said. “Every Sunday, we see children bring their scriptures to Primary. They open them, they read them, and they’re learning directly from the words of the Lord about what He wants them to do.”
“What do you hope they can learn to do more often?” Emma asked.
“We need to be more kind to our brothers and sisters, to our parents, to our friends, and to everybody around the world,” Sister Lant said.
Sister Lant showed Emma a painting of Jesus with children. “Can you think why that’s my favorite thing to look at every day when I come into my office?” she asked.
“Maybe because it shows the love Jesus has for children,” Emma said.
“That’s right,” Sister Lant said. “In Primary, the most important thing that we want to teach the children is that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ love them. All the children in this picture come from different places, so they represent all the children around the world. Heavenly Father and Jesus love all of us, no matter where we live. We’re all His children.”