Gospel Story Finder

On June 14, 1989, due to some misinformation about the Church, the government of Ghana banned all activities of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints within that African country. The government seized all Church property, and all missionary activity stopped. The members of the Church, who refer to this period as “the freeze,” did their best to live the gospel without branch meetings or the support of missionaries. There are many inspiring stories about how the members kept the light of the gospel shining by worshipping in their homes and looking after each other as home and visiting teachers.
Eventually the misunderstanding was resolved, and on November 30, 1990, the freeze ended and normal Church activities resumed. Since then there has been an excellent relationship between the Church and the government of Ghana.
Members who lived through the freeze are quick to point out the blessings that came from that unusual period. The faith of many was strengthened through the adversity that they faced. But one blessing of the freeze came in an unusual way.
Nicholas Ofosu-Hene was a young policeman assigned to guard an LDS meetinghouse during the freeze. His duty was to watch over the building at night. When Nicholas first arrived at the meetinghouse, he saw that things had been scattered around, with papers, books, and furniture in disarray. In the midst of this disorder, he saw a copy of the Book of Mormon. He tried ignoring the book because he had been told that it was evil. But he felt strangely attracted to it. Finally, Nicholas could ignore the book no longer. He picked it up. He felt impelled to start reading it. He read through the night, tears running down his cheeks as he read.
The first time he picked it up, he read all of 1 Nephi. The second time, he read all of 2 Nephi. When he got to 2 Nephi chapter 25, he read the following: “And we talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ, we preach of Christ, we prophesy of Christ, and we write according to our prophecies, that our children may know to what source they may look for a remission of their sins.”
At that point, Nicholas felt the Spirit so strongly that he started sobbing. He realized that in the course of his reading he had received several spiritual promptings that this book was scripture, the most correct he had ever read. He realized that the Latter-day Saints, contrary to what he had heard, strongly believe in Jesus Christ. After the freeze ended and missionaries returned to Ghana, Nicholas, his wife, and his children joined the Church. When I saw him last year, he was a police commander and was serving as the president of the Tamale Ghana District of the Church. He says: “The Church has transformed my life. … I thank the Almighty God for leading me into this gospel.”
Alibert Davies, another Ghanaian, accompanied a friend to one of our meetinghouses, where the friend had a presidency meeting. While he waited for his friend, Alibert read a book he found nearby. When the meeting ended, Alibert wanted to take the book home. He was given permission to take not only that book but also a copy of the Book of Mormon. When he got home, he started reading the Book of Mormon. He could not put it down. He read by candlelight until 3:00 a.m. He did that for several nights, overwhelmed by what he read and what he felt. Alibert is now a member of the Church.
Angelo Scarpulla started his theological studies in his native Italy when he was 10. He eventually became a priest and served his church with devotion. At a certain point his faith started to waver, and he sought and received opportunities for further study. The more he studied, however, the more concerned he became. What he read and felt convinced him that there had been a general apostasy from the true doctrine taught by Jesus and the early Apostles. Angelo searched for God’s true religion in various faiths but was left unsatisfied for many years.
One day he encountered two members of the Church who were helping the missionaries find more people to teach. He felt drawn to them and joyfully listened to their message. Angelo willingly accepted a copy of the Book of Mormon.
That evening he started reading the book. He felt overcome with joy. Through the Spirit, God gave Angelo an inner assurance that in the Book of Mormon he would find the truth for which he had been seeking for many years. Sweet feelings flooded through him. What he read and what he learned from the missionaries confirmed his conclusion that there had been a general apostasy, but he also learned that God’s true Church had been restored to the earth. A short while later, Angelo was baptized into the Church. When I first met him, he was the president of the Rimini Branch of our Church in Italy.
What Nicholas, Alibert, and Angelo experienced with the Book of Mormon is reminiscent of Parley P. Pratt’s experience:
“I opened [the book] with eagerness. … I read all day; eating was a burden, I had no desire for food; sleep was a burden when … night came, for I preferred reading to sleep.
“As I read, the spirit of the Lord was upon me, and I knew and comprehended that the book was true, as plainly and manifestly as a man comprehends and knows that he exists. My joy was now full, as it were, and I rejoiced sufficiently to more than pay me for all the sorrows, sacrifices and toils of my life.”

The Lord’s light helped Shelly Ann Scoffield face a frightening trial in her young life, but she faced it with great faith and love for Heavenly Father. One day Shelly began to feel sick. She saw a doctor, who determined that there was something seriously wrong. Shelly said: “I was scared. I had huge masses on my lungs, and the doctor began to say things like cancer and chemotherapy and radiation.” But Shelly didn’t give in to her fears. True to her training in Personal Progress, she got busy and set a long list of goals to accomplish while she couldn’t go to school because of her treatments. She busied herself with accomplishing good things. She was mindful of her blessings, including a father with the priesthood who had administered to her, a wonderful family, super friends, and great doctors. “Best of all,” Shelly said, “I have a testimony of my Heavenly Father, that He loves me and will help me through this struggle.”

Shelly recorded her thoughts for her young women friends, and I would like to share with you some of what she said:

“I want you girls to know that now is the time to grow close to your Heavenly Father. Work to show Him you can do all that you promised you would do. I am trying. I am learning more now than I have ever in my life known about the gospel. I know that Heavenly Father is with me. When I’m feeling pain and sorrow, He is too, and He just wants me and every one of you, when you’re feeling those things, to get down on your knees and pray for His help, because He is so willing. He loves you so much. I pray that throughout your life, throughout your struggles, that you’ll learn from them and stay close to Him and have faith. Gain a testimony and stay true to what is right.”

Shelly Scoffield passed away November 3, 1998, strong in the faith.

No plush seats. No ornate decor. No subdued lighting. No modern sound system. No ushers. Of course not. After all, this isn’t a concert hall; it’s Montréal’s busiest metro station. And yet it is a concert hall—the home of la Chorale de l’Accueil Bonneau. Under the harsh fluorescent glare of this noisy, cavernous station stand 18 men in black pants, white shirts, and a smattering of caps, berets, scarves, and bandannas. The singers range in age from 22 to 69. Their weathered faces glow with a joy that almost masks the lingering evidence of misfortune and rejection. “Oh happy day!” they sing, and you can’t help but believe them.
A subway train rumbles to a stop and releases a host of Saturday shoppers, weary students, and weekend workers. Many pause to listen. A few step forward and drop coins into a hat resting on the floor where you would expect the director to stand.
The performers don’t look much like a choir. In fact, they look as if someone just pulled them off the street. They don’t act like a choir either. They don’t stand up straight, and they don’t stand still. One of the older singers—sporting a long, shaggy beard—wanders through the crowd, presenting roses to women. During one of the more lively numbers, two of the singers find partners among the listeners and start to dance.
The choir’s repertoire is varied—everything from “Nearer My God to Thee,” straight from the Latter-day Saint hymnbook, to the pop song “California Dreamin’.” Although some of the men have good voices, these are not professionally trained musicians. One of the soloists even sings a bit off-key. But their energy more than compensates for any lack of training or natural ability. They sing with their whole hearts, and it is clear they are enjoying themselves. So is the audience, which changes about every three minutes as trains come and go.
By the end of two hours the hat is nearly full, and the concert is over. Only then is it evident this choir has a leader. As the last song ends and the crowd disperses, a slender man with dark hair, glasses, and a radiant smile steps from the ranks. His name is Pierre Anthian, and the choir, he will tell you, is merely an extension of his religious beliefs.
The choir ascends the stairs to street level. A yellow school bus will soon arrive to take them to a Catholic church on the outskirts of Montréal where they will perform later this evening. The afternoon sun is pleasant, and the autumn leaves, though past their prime, still adorn the city with splashes of faded yellow and rusty red. While waiting for the bus, one choir member, Jean-Louis, tells how the choir has saved him from harmful addictions. “Now I get high on music,” he boasts. Others have similar stories.
It is late Saturday evening. It has been a long day for the choir, and you can tell they are tired only because their voices don’t blend as well as they did earlier in the program and they hit a few painfully flat notes. But the more than 200 listeners at the church don’t seem to mind. The singers still exude the same level of energy they did this afternoon in the metro, and several of them patrol the aisles, pulling people at random from the audience to join them onstage.
The listeners have been treated to hymns and popular songs—but now comes the audience’s favorite part of the concert. The melody and words might be unfamiliar to a visitor from outside Québec, but it is obvious this song has special meaning to the locals. Everyone is standing, holding hands, swaying back and forth in time with the music, singing with his or her whole soul. Tears flow freely. The song ends, and for a magical moment there is only silence. Then the audience, sensing that this was the final number yet not wanting the magic to end, breaks into wild applause and calls for an encore. The choir obliges, not once but twice, and finally the audience lets them go.

An inspiring funeral was held for eighteen-year-old John Anderson. John was a remarkable young man who courageously battled muscular dystrophy and lost. He was confined to a wheelchair during his Aaronic Priesthood years.

Conspicuous at the funeral were devoted members of his priests quorum. John’s influence upon his quorum was profound, and yet he never played a football game, nor went camping with them, nor danced, nor did any of the usual teenage activities. It was his faith and commitment to the Church that touched his quorum members. And something else—John provided his quorum with an opportunity to serve with love.

When John was a deacon, he wanted to pass the sacrament. One boy was assigned to push his wheelchair while John held the tray on his lap. It seemed awkward at first, but soon others were anxious to help him perform his priesthood duty.

By the time John was ordained a priest, he was very weak and could not kneel to bless the sacrament. His quorum found a solution. They placed his wheelchair next to the sacrament table. One would break the bread, then kneel for him, by the wheelchair, and hold a microphone while John pronounced those sacred words. To do this for their brother soon became an honor for each one in the quorum.

They enthusiastically followed his leadership as first assistant in the priests quorum. Because John was unable to realize his dream of becoming an Eagle Scout, the priests raised money to buy a special achievement plaque which was given to him in sacrament meeting. It read: “Presented to John Anderson for outstanding service to your quorum and for being a great example to us all.”

Over the years, the young men in John’s quorum enjoyed many fun activities, but none had greater impact or taught them more about magnifying their priesthood callings and loving each other than this choice experience they shared with their friend John.

I’m not good at basketball. But for some reason, my friends still invited me to play. During one game, I hoped the ball would never come to me. Well, it did, and I decided to take a shot. As the ball flew toward the basket, I was sure it would miss. The ball hit the backboard and then fell through the hoop.
I made the shot!
My friends cheered as I stood in disbelief. I didn’t contribute much else to that game, but it felt good to be part of a team and to participate in my own small way.

"For a number of years our family lived in Seattle, Washington- nine years, in fact, and we hoped that it would be 90. At the beginning of the ninth year, in September, there were some feelings granted to my wife that "something important" , some kind of change, was going to happen to us that year. Through the years of our marriage, we had both come to respect the gift she had for those quiet prompting's, and so we looked forward with some anticipation to this prompting's fulfillment, whatever it might be. In January, because my supervisor in the Church Educational System became ill, portions of his assignment were parceled out to a couple of us. This new, important, and weighty opportunity was viewed as a fulfillment of my wife's feelings, at least as far as I was concerned. Returning home after traveling and interviewing personnel in western Washington and Alaska, and thrilled at this opportunity for growth and service, I mentioned to my wife that her feelings were certainly right, that "something important" had indeed entered into our lives.

"She had thought much of this experience and simply stated, "This is not what I have been feeling, I believe there is something else which we are still to experience." Shortly thereafter, in just a matter of weeks, she received another impression that we should get our home ready to sell. This time her feelings were more than just expectations, they led to work. However, we acted on those sacred preparatory feelings and began a multitude of tasks to make our home more presentable and saleable.

"After weeks of labor, we wondered why the impression had come. We hadn't even considered that we might be moved by Church Education. However, there was an issue surrounding the school system in the city of Seattle that had caused many to move outside the city limits to adjoining communities. Considering that as a foundation for the impressions, we began looking for another home. We found a lovely house, in an area we liked, and in our price range. After praying about our decision, however, we felt confusion. Only after deciding not to make an offer did we feel we had made the right decision. In fact, we were impressed that we should not look for another home at all, and the peace that followed that decision was confirming.

"A few weeks later, in the second week of June, I received a telephone call from Salt Lake City, the central office of the Church Educational System. My boss asked me if I was sitting down, and when I assured him I was, he asked me to consider a move to the Midwest. Not only did the request shock my wife and me, for we had loved our experiences in Seattle, but it was coming to us four to five months later than most requests normally come, months that would give a family time to sell and buy a home and to make this kind of major transition.

"The next 24 hours given us to make our decision were as difficult as any I had ever lived. The feelings that came to me concerning our neighborhood, our friends, our Church positions, and our Church Education experience were so enormous, that until the decision was made and confirmed by the Lord, I did not once consider all the preparatory blessings the Lord had introduced into our lives to make the move more expeditious. We had been prompted and we had responded--our home was ready to sell. In only a couple of weeks, after making the final arrangements of our home to be shown, we drove to Utah and secured our children with grandparents, and then flew to Indiana to buy a home where we were to live for the next 10 years.

"Our experience in finding a home in Indiana was nothing short of providential. Not only did we feel the Lord's help in purchasing our home, but the only people to walk through our home in Seattle while we were gone made an acceptable offer, and we were able to move rather expeditiously. The Lord's omniscience had prepared the way.

"If someone had stuck a microphone in my face at different stages of our experience that year and asked, "Are you in the middle of a spiritual experience?" I could not have responded completely. I knew we were being directed by the impressions my wife was having, and we were acting on them faithfully. Yes, we were in the middle of a wonderful spiritual experience, and we were just beginning, as we returned from our Indiana house-buying travels to realize its full meaning in our lives. I bear testimony that God's knowledge, as it is indicated in the scriptures and in the Lectures on Faith, is a preparation for us. His knowledge saves us, temporally and spiritually."

Subject: Lisa
Age: 16 years
Event: First day at school with braces
“How did it go at school today?” her mother asked as Lisa came in the house.
“Awful!” she complained. “One boy called me Metal Mouth. Another boy asked if he could use my mouth as an antenna for his radio. Kara said that at least it wouldn’t cut down on my dating, since Larry has told everybody that I’m cold and conceited.” She threw her books on the couch and ran to her room.

Illustrations by Maryn Roos
Matt and Mandy and their parents have moved to a new town and a new home. Now they are going to their new ward for the first time.
Dad says it’s natural to be nervous, but if I act friendly, other people will be friendly too.
This looks kinda the same … but kinda different too.
But I feel good here, like going into the chapel at home. I mean, our old home.
I recognize the songs from our old ward.
The sacrament’s exactly the same, and Mom always says that’s what we’re really here for.
Hi, we’re the Coopers. We just moved into the ward.
Hi, my name’s Mandy Cooper. We just moved in.
Man, I’ll sure be glad when I’m taller.
This is Sister Rogers, the Primary president. She’ll introduce you to your teachers. And Dad and I will meet you here right after the meetings.
Hmmm. People here are nice too.
This really isn’t so hard after all.
(To be continued.)

The second experience: In the spring of 1996, our son, Greg, returned from a mission in London South. Five of his best friends also returned at about the same time from their missions. They were choice young men who had lived righteous lives and had served their Lord faithfully. To celebrate the completion of their missions and their enduring friendship, Five of them, including our son, spend a weekend at Bear Lake in Utah prior to going off to school. On their way home from Bear Lake, they were involved in a roll-over accident killing 3 of the boys and injuring two critically.

Sister Biddulph and I were in Los Angeles, California for business meetings when we received the news from our bishop in Utah. Ironically, the only two boys not clearly identified were our son, Greg, and his best friend, R.J. One of them was dead and the other near dead. The Highway Patrol had tentatively identified Greg as being deceased and R.J. critically injured. I could not hope for our son's life over that of R.J.'s because we loved R.J. like a son, and his parents were our close friends.

The two-hour flight back to Salt Lake City was reflective for both of us as we were each separately locked into our private thoughts and emotions as the jet engines pushed us toward whatever fate had dealt us. As it had been behind the sandbag wall in Vietnam, prayer came instinctively. I silently poured out my concerns to my Heavenly Father in prayer. But the Lord did not reveal to me whether our son was dead or alive. Rather, remarkable questions came to my mind in answer to my pleadings:

The first question that came was: "If I have taken your son, will you be angry with me?" I could not be angry with the Lord. I had promised to sacrifice all things. But Greg had been gone from us for 2 years and we looked to his future. We had so many hopes for him; for college, marriage, and children. Death took all of that away.

A second question came in response: "If your son is dead, as you say, do you believe that he will live again?" Yes. I knew that if he was dead that his spirit would live, and that he would be resurrected. I knew that as clearly as I had known I would live if the tank round had taken my life in Vietnam. But it was a hard thing to lose a child in death; perhaps more than I could bear.

A final question came: "I gave you my Son. Will you not give me yours?" And I knew that I would give to God whatever He asked, even my son. For I had made covenants to sacrifice and consecrate all to the Father, and Sister Biddulph and I had made the decision long before to always faithfully give to the Lord what He asked of us. "God so loved the world that he gave his Only Begotten Son, that whosoever would believe on him, the same would have eternal life." (John 3:16)

It was done then, I concluded. Greg was dead. Now, it was for us to willingly give him to the Lord. We decided that we would bury Greg in the East Lawn Cemetery on the east bench of the Wasatch Mountains in Provo, next to his grandfather. It was a beautiful, peaceful spot, overlooking Utah Valley and Utah Lake. We had two lots there, meant for Elaine and me. We had not anticipated its use for a child.

However, when we arrived in Salt Lake City we discovered that it was R.J. who had been killed and Greg was already undergoing 11 hours of surgery to try and save his life. One does not feel joy or relief in those circumstances, only a change of venue. We now focused our prayers for our son's survival and for the parents and families of the other boys who died or were injured.

The two surviving boys, Greg and Mike, were unconscious for days and while they slept, we attended funerals and buried their three best friends. When they awoke, everything in their lives had changed drastically. But neither of them ever questioned the Lord or became despondent. They accepted the accident with complete faith in the Resurrection, despite the deep, personal loss. God mercifully filled the void with eternal companions and children.

Around the world needles have been slipping through satins, calicos, muslins, and velvets, stitches taken tiny and neat. No ordinary sewing projects, these—they’re works sewn from the strong threads of testimony, thankfulness, love of family, and all the lovely feelings a young woman holds sweet in her life.
What’s the occasion?
The young women of the Church have made banners to celebrate the Church’s 150th anniversary!
“A banner lets you express what’s important to you,” explained Shauna Stebers of the Northwest First Ward, Chicago Illinois Stake. “It’s not just a sewing project—it’s a part of your personality, of what’s important to you and how you feel about the gospel. And it’s a special reminder of the Church’s sesquicentennial that you’ll be able to pass down to your children and to their children.”
If you could float your thoughts or goals high above the crowd for the world to see, what would you show them? Some young women quilted or sewed slogans on their banners like “Plant happiness and love will grow,” or “I love and sustain our prophet,” or “Prayer is so simple it’s like quietly opening a door.” Other young women filled their banners with symbols of their heritage and goals. And all of them spent long hours designing, planning, and sewing the banners (often with the help of mom, dad, brothers, or sisters).
And the stories the banners tell! Marylynne Aposhina of the Hunter Ninth Ward, Hunter Utah West Stake, designed her banner after an oriental rug her great grandfather, Zadik Moses Aposhina, had made. A wealthy rug designer, her grandfather was forced to flee Armenia because of persecution against Christians. He lost his wealth, and some of his family members were sold as slaves in Mexico, but after overwhelming struggles, they finally reached the Salt Lake Valley.
“Making the banner helped me appreciate my heritage even more,” said Marylynne. “My mother and grandmother and I had fun together doing it, too. I don’t get to do things with both of them very often.”
Teuila Matua, a Mia Maid from the West Jordan 24th Ward, West Jordan Utah South Stake, whose first name means “Ginger Flower,” is Samoan, and her banner reflected her heritage. Her banner was symbolic of a taupaou (handmaiden) of Samoa, who must be of royal family, must be pure, and have dignity.
Teuila explained, “My heritage and the work of the Lord go hand in hand. First, I am born of the royal birthright of Christ. Second, I have purity in keeping clean thoughts and maintaining moral standards. Third, I have dignity in studying the scriptures, attending Church meetings, and keeping the commandments of the Lord.”
Mary Lou Beilfuss, a Laurel from the Holladay 17th Ward, Salt Lake Olympus Stake, earned the money for her banner by working at a grocery store. The theme of her banner was eternal life.
“It helped me understand more about the recent death of my father, because I studied more about eternal life. The subject was on my mind a lot, and the banner gave me the opportunity to express it on material.
“My mother and sister helped me make it. We are very close already, but working together helped us share our love. I feel close to them because they’re always willing to help. We also shared tears together because the banner had a very special meaning. It made my sister and I think of our father and my mom of her husband.
“I learned from making this banner that I am a daughter of God and that he is there when I call. It has helped my self-image and helped me grow closer to my Heavenly Father. Also, it comforted me about my father’s death,” said Mary Lou.
Many of the young women earned the money needed for the banner by themselves. Others made their banners from materials they already had. LeeAnn Cox of the West Jordan 36th Ward, West Jordan Utah Stake, raised the money by babysitting, giving rides on her horse, and selling bread.
And the excitement of making the banners was often contagious. Annett Pemberton, a Laurel from the Bluffdale Second Ward, Riverton Utah Stake, spread her enthusiasm for the banner to her friends and family. “I included everyone as I prepared my banner—mother, father, all 11 brothers and sisters, 5 friends, my basketball coach, and my sewing teacher at school. I learned that friends can make a big difference in a person’s life if you give them the chance to help.” Annett’s brothers and sisters each made a quilted patch with their name on it for the bottom of her banner. The patchwork symbolizes love, purity, and loyalty to the gospel, Annett explained, and her theme is “A Quilt for My Lord.”
And there are many, many other stories that the banners tell. LeeAnn Cox’s banner was in honor of her pioneer ancestors whose son was lost while they traveled across Nebraska. The mother pinned a red shawl on the shoulders of her husband who was to search along the trail for the lost son. The bright shawl waving in the evening sun let a mother, sick with worry, know that all was well.
Kjersti Harward’s banner honors her grandparents in Sweden who dearly wanted to come to America after they joined the Church. Even though they saved enough money, they decided they couldn’t leave their parents, who were unable to make the strenuous journey. Her grandparents sacrificed by remaining in Sweden until their parents no longer needed them.
Displaying the banners has been just as exciting as making them, many of the young women have found. For the Pioneer Day Parade in the Salt Lake Valley, 1,500 young women dressed in white marched up Salt Lake streets, heads erect, banners pointed towards the sky. Thirty-six young women dressed in costumes from around the world marched alongside. And a band of 76 young women playing flute, drum, and clarinet accompanied them all by playing hymns.
In Pasadena, California, at the Rose Bowl, 400 young women dressed in white displayed their banners to the audience gathered for a regional dance festival. And throughout the Church, programs are being held in special meetings where the young women have the opportunity of displaying their banners and bearing their testimonies.
“Making the banners can bring you special opportunities and blessings, even if you can’t march in the 24th of July parade like we did,” said Alyson Barlow of the Monument Park 16th Ward, Salt Lake Monument Park Stake. “It lets you say how you feel about the gospel and brings you closer to whoever helps you.”
Lanette Madsen of the Butler 16th Ward, Salt Lake Wasatch Stake, agreed. “It’s helped me grow so much and can be a great missionary tool. We were able to display our banners and explain them to the people who attended the World Conference on Records. Thousands of people were there, many of them non-Mormons, and I think we were able to touch the hearts of the people who saw us. Many of them were from other countries, and even if they didn’t know our language, they could still feel our spirit.”
“It gives you a good opportunity to spread the gospel, because people ask you what your banner is about. It’s an easy way to talk to them about yourself and the gospel and what you believe,” said Becca Briggs of the Oak Hills 5th Ward, Provo Utah Oak Hills Stake.
For many of these nimble-fingered seamstresses, their banners have pulled a shower of blessings down from the sky. It’s given them the chance to learn more about their heritage, to get closer to their families, and to pass their testimonies down to future generations. And to top it off, they’ll have a lasting reminder of the Church’s 150th birthday.
As Jeannie Winters of the Taylorsville Utah North Stake, 14th Ward, put it, “I think all the young women should make banners, because if they don’t, they’re passing up a great experience they’ll remember all their life.”

Growing up, I always had a strong desire to serve a mission. I wanted to spread the gospel and bring souls unto Christ. I wanted to devote myself to full-time service for the Lord. However, it didn’t happen the way I expected.
When I turned 20, I applied to serve a mission just like many others, but was turned down for medical reasons. Then I tried to apply for a teaching mission from home, but that didn’t work out. I applied for a temple mission, but that didn’t happen either. In the end, I decided to go back into education, since I appeared to have no other options. Then, out of the blue, I heard about a new type mission launched in the UK that required service missionaries. So, despite my bad luck with the previous mission applications, I decided to give it a go.
Not long after I resubmitted my mission application, I received my long-awaited mission call. I was called to serve as a service missionary in my local area. I was the first service missionary in the England Manchester Mission. This was an extraordinary moment that I will not forget in a hurry. Not long after I received the call, I felt impressed that this was the mission that God had wanted me to serve since before I was born. That is why none of the other mission applications worked out. That is why I had to wait so long. Heavenly Father really did have a plan for me.

I enrolled at the University of Alberta in Edmonton in 1957, my first real time away from home. The freedom to go where I wanted when I wanted, to study or play, to go to class or sleep in, proved a little more than I was ready for. Besides, I made the university basketball team, and clearly in my mind that was what I was primarily at university FOR. In short, I did great on the basketball team but mediocre in the classroom. We won the Western Canada championship and I scored 13 points in the final game against the University of Manitoba. Oh yeah, and I managed to pass my classes by the skin of my teeth. I was saved by my mission call when it finally came, and headed off to the Canadian Mission in Toronto under the leadership of President Monson. I was excited about the call because we had been reading about how the Ottawa Mormon Elders team had contended for the Canadian Senior Men's championship in basketball, and I figured that was why I was receiving this call. They put together a crack basketball team, stationing them all in the same city for the season, and won permission to have them make half-time presentations on the Book of Mormon to the crowds. I had only just arrived in the field when Elder Elray L. Christiansen toured the mission. To my displeasure one of his first announcements was that there would no longer be a missionary basketball team. Missionaries were sent out to teach the gospel, not play basketball. I must have sulked for a week. I wouldn't call them my best two years, but perhaps they were two of my most valuable years. I learned how to study, how to deal with difficulty, how to talk to people, and how to keep commitments. When I returned to college after my mission, I was grateful for a second chance, and dug in with determination. Yes, I made the basketball team again, but now it wasn't what I lived for. Being able to start over made all the difference and what I learned on my mission not only equipped me for life in the church, but propelled me to success in graduate study.

These funny boys are serious about choosing the right and serving others. When their grandpa had cancer, they not only prayed for his recovery but also rolled up their sleeves and took care of his garden. They grew corn, cucumbers, broccoli, chili peppers, onions, peas, tomatoes, beets, some odd-looking carrots, and three pumpkins destined to become jack-o’-lanterns. The eggplants died, but nobody minded much, because Grandpa lived.

“When I was small and our leaders spoke to us of marriage, all the stories were happy ones,” says Ruth Silva. She realizes that “happily ever after” takes work, “but I feel that those stories were true. The largest blessing of being married in the temple is the happiness I feel in knowing that we are united as an eternal family.”
Her example helped her father enter the waters of baptism in 2008 and then take his family to the temple, where they were sealed a year later.

Some of these children’s parents and older siblings naturally wrestled with unanswerable questions. “How did this happen?” “Why us?” “Who’s to blame?”

My bishop, Clayter Forsgren, a professional engineer, presided over a sacrament meeting eight days after the flood, the first opportunity for our ward to gather.

My father recorded this summary of Bishop Forsgren’s remarks in his journal:

We attended a fine sacrament meeting where Bishop Forsgren bore testimony and gave advice that we should work to clean up and theorize later. He said, “Sure, I’ve got a theory as to why I lost my busines building: I built it near the river, and the dam burst.”

Like thousands of other residents, Bishop Forsgren received financial compensation from the federal government, enough to build on higher ground or start a different business, perhaps even enough to retire. But he and his associates rebuilt and went back to work on the same riverside lot. Bishop Forsgren passed away seven years ago, after decades of Church service in many capacities. Today the company he started operates in ten states.

Several young women sit in a living room on a Sunday evening, talking about the gospel, as they are all wrapped up in patchwork quilts. The scene doesn’t seem so unusual until you know it’s the middle of summer in Utah, and it’s very warm outside.
One of the young women comments on the situation. “It’s not that the house is cold or anything,” she says. “We’re all wrapped up in our blankets because it’s just comforting.”
It’s comforting because these quilts have become a big part of their lives. Each young woman earned the squares on her quilt and stitched the final product together. The quilts have a very special meaning because of the growth each young woman went through as she collected squares for a year and sewed her quilt together.
When the leaders of the ward introduced the quilt project, they gave each young woman an unused pizza box with two quilt squares inside. Some of the young women were confused and not sure if they would ever have enough squares to make a quilt.
“When I got the two squares in a box, I thought, ‘How am I supposed to make a quilt out of two squares?’ ” says Maren M., 16.
But over the next year, the young women gained more squares. They earned a square for each Young Women lesson they attended and for special occasions like holidays, camp, and New Beginnings. They got squares for finishing Personal Progress value experiences and for reading the Book of Mormon. On her birthday, each young woman was given a large block with a picture of her favorite temple.
“When our leaders explained the whole project to me, I did not want to sew a quilt, so I was just going to put it off,” says Katie W., 13. “Then I started getting the quilt squares every week, and I was so excited because they were so cute. Then it built up into this huge pile.”
“Two quilt squares at a time didn’t seem like anything,” says Abby M., 14. “They were just two little squares of fabric, and I didn’t think much of it. But slowly as I’d take them home from church and put them in my box, the pile just grew and grew and became a stack. Then before long, it was already time to sew them together.”
Most of the young women in the ward had never used a sewing machine before and had no idea how to sew a quilt. So each young woman received help from a mother, grandmother, or Relief Society sister.
“I got to go up to Idaho and work with my grandma on it,” says Mikayla S., 14. “I don’t get to see or talk to her very often, so it was really nice to go up and work on something with her. I also learned that I like to sew.”
Mikayla wasn’t the only one who found a new talent in sewing. “I didn’t know how good I’d be at sewing, but I knew my grandma would be there to help me,” Abby says. “It actually just came naturally. It was a cool skill that I figured out I could do, and it was fun.”
Since making their quilts, some of the young women have even used their sewing skills for other projects. Maren made pillows for the young women she was in charge of at camp. Katie made headbands as Christmas gifts for her friends at school.
In addition to learning how to sew, the young women learned other lessons.
“I learned patience, because I’m not very good at sewing, and I had to be patient with myself and my imperfections,” says Amanda W., 16.
Madison S., 15, learned how to be humble and ask for help with her quilt. “That happens a lot in our lives,” she says. “We don’t know how to do everything we want to do, and we have to ask Heavenly Father and our leaders and those who have gone before us how they did it and how we can then do it. It’s really helpful to me.”
During the project, the young women also had the opportunity to strengthen their testimonies through the experiences that the squares represented.
“It’s the squares on the quilt that represent my testimony,” Katie says. “That’s how it is in my life. You can’t just expect a testimony to come all at once. You have to wait; you have to get it one piece at a time. It comes slowly, but in the end it builds up a big, beautiful blanket—or a big, beautiful testimony.”
Abby agrees with that. “My quilt is like my testimony,” she says. “It’s like the quilt squares are all the little parts that come together and make me all of the things that I value in life, all the things that I treasure.”
All of the young women treasure their quilts and the experiences that led them to finish the quilts. It’s a reminder of what they have accomplished.
“My favorite square would probably be the Book of Mormon challenge because that was the first time I read the Book of Mormon all the way through,” Mikayla says.
Like Mikayla, each of the young women can point to her favorite squares and remember the experiences that go along with them. Those experiences will help the young women as they look to the future.
“I sleep with my quilt every night,” Katie says. “Every night before I go to bed, I look at the temple, and it reminds me that that’s where I need to end up.”
Many young women put the temple image in the middle of their quilts to remind them the temple is their focus.
“Going to the temple is one of my biggest goals,” Amanda says. “The temple is the first thing I notice when I see my quilt. I think it gives me a sense of direction.”
Maren says that when she sees the temple on her quilt, it reminds her of how she wants to go there. “It helps me to remember to dress modestly when I get ready for school and to make good choices as I go throughout the day,” she says.
The young women are all glad they accomplished this project, and they look forward to the things that they will accomplish in the future as they continue to progress and gain the pieces that will make up their lives.

I emphasize the word shared. My introduction to the board of trustees came as I left the faculty at Stanford to be the president of Ricks College. I attended my first board meeting soon thereafter. My work at Stanford and elsewhere had exposed me to the ways boards of directors and groups of people in business made decisions. But nothing I had seen prepared me for what I saw in that meeting.

President Harold B. Lee, also one of the authors of our foundation documents, was serving as chair. I have now forgotten the issue, but the discussion was lively. I had never seen such frankness without rancor before, but neither had I seen people listen to each other as carefully. In a few minutes, what had seemed to me widely divergent views began to move—I thought so rapidly as to be miraculous—toward a consensus. Just as I began to think I had seen an example of joint revelation beyond what I thought possible among strong leaders, I was surprised by a statement from the chair, President Lee. He said something like this: “I sense that there is someone here still not settled on this matter. I suggest that we hold it for further thought. We can discuss it again in a later meeting.” President Lee had seen or felt, I don’t know which, that there was not yet complete unity. And so an important matter was held off.

That story is not about one day but represents a pattern. Not only does the board of trustees give consistent direction, based on a deep understanding of universities as they have been and of this one as it is, but it gives direction out of unity far beyond a product of counting votes and far above a process of coalition bargaining.

During a recent multistake dance I attended as a chaperone, I decided to make friends with another chaperone. I learned that we had met briefly before, that she lived in a different stake, and that we had friends in common. I also learned she was from Rochester, New York, USA, where her family had lived for many years.
I told my new friend, Sara, that my mom was born and raised in Rochester. Sara asked for my mother’s maiden name. I insisted there was no way she’d know her. My mother was not a member of the Church back then.
I explained that Mom had joined the Church her freshman year while attending college in Missouri. In high school, she had had a high school teacher she respected. He was always kind to her and was a great example of the Savior’s love.
My mother found out he was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. When she left for college, she wanted to learn more about his religion.
“My dad was an English teacher in Rochester for 35 years,” Sara said. “What high school did your mom attend?”
I quickly texted my mom, asking what school she attended and the name of the teacher who had influenced her to seek out the Church.
“Eastridge High, David Anderson,” she replied.
Sara’s father was David Anderson!
We enjoyed a special moment as my mother explained the wonderful things life had brought her since she joined the Church—a temple wedding, missionary service by four of her eight children and many of her grandchildren, and numerous other blessings.
When Sara shared my mother’s story with her father the next day, he wept with gratitude. He had joined the Church after getting married and had wanted to serve a mission himself, but he was a widower who had lost two wives. Hearing my mother’s story helped him feel that he truly had a wonderful life.
My family is grateful for Mr. Anderson, the covenant-keeping high school teacher whose example inspired an 18-year-old girl to seek truth and change her life and the life of generations to come.
With the gospel of Jesus Christ, life can be wonderful for all those willing to follow the Savior and honor their covenants.

One way to recognize our self-worth is to recognize the self-worth of those around us. Focusing on others helps us feel good about ourselves because we are building others up. It’s a win-win! When I struggled with self-confidence, I decided I would serve someone around me who needed help. Every day for a month I gave a compliment to a friend who was struggling. Focusing on others helped me feel worthy and needed. When we strive to love others for who they are, it becomes easier to see how much God loves us. Helping others feel worthy of love will help us feel worthy of love ourselves.
Jayme W., 15, Minnesota, USA

When I was a teenager, I set the goal of getting a degree in sports. I prayed a lot, asking the Lord to make it so practices would be on Saturdays. However, my team’s practices were scheduled on Sundays. I had to make a choice: give up on my goal or skip church. Since both were important to me, I compromised. I would go to practices for two Sundays and then go to church on the third Sunday. Unfortunately, this little deviation from my faith led to sin, causing much suffering.
It did not take me long to realize my mistake. I asked to be on a different team. However, it was too late; the wrong had been done. I had half opened the door, and Satan had pushed it wide open. Eventually I gave up competitive sports.
I learned two valuable things. The first is that when we seek to compromise with the Lord, we are in great danger. The second is that I had made the mistake of believing my faith was strong enough that I could do without Sunday meetings. Our spirit needs nourishment just as our body does. If we were to eat only one meal and then skip the next two meals, we could not remain in good health.
I love Sundays now. The Lord has blessed me in my studies and my health above measure.