Gospel Story Finder

I too received an email from a friend telling me about that very same position. He too knew that someday I wanted to return and work at BYU–Hawaii. And though the timing was not perfect for my family, it was very much something my wife and I had planned on for years. I was fortunate enough to receive the first interview and then the next. Each time I felt the promptings from the Spirit to act. As I met the team, it just felt right. And as my wife and I sat on the steps of the temple, in tears we said, “Lord, if you need us here, please bless this all to work out.” And later that month I too received a phone call and as soon as I said “hello,” I knew I did not get the job.

Over the ensuing weeks I asked, “Why? Why was the Spirit so clear on what I should be doing if this was not where He needed me. Hadn’t I learned the truth?” But at the same time, I felt a deep sense of peace. As I learned about the amazing career and background of Arlene, I clearly was taught by the Spirit that BYU–Hawaii had chosen the right person, at the right time. And as I returned to my normal routine, I began to feel what the choir so beautifully sang about in the hymn “The Lord Bless You and Keep You” I began to feel peace. I felt promptings to learn more and to grow. I was led to additional things at work I needed to learn. My job at that time needed me to progress in the topics of compliance, risk, and governance. I felt the need to learn something new in the job that I was already in. The entire time, and as I reflect, for years before I applied for that CIO job, the Lord had been preparing me for a different career. He was preparing me for the job I have now and love. He knew that had I not applied for the CIO job I would not have been open to learning what I needed to, for where He needed me.

During one particularly difficult time when Josh was to return to Salt Lake City for chemotherapy, we needed help with our other four children. My Mom was scheduled to come up from Nevada to help, but she came down with a kidney stone at the last minute.

I remember that in our desperate circumstance, gathering the family together, kneeling in a circle, and petitioning the Lord in family prayer to help us. No sooner had we got off our knees than the phone rang, and a sister in a neighboring ward felt impressed to call and ask how she could help. My wife told her of our plight, and she said, "Done. I'll take care of it. Don't even worry about this week." And she took care of the children for the entire week! We couldn't have done it without her timely help. Later on, ward members called and asked if we would be okay with a special fast for our son. After wrestling with that decision some, we finally said "yes." It was one of the best decisions we ever made, as the primary children began to pray for us. If you ever need great faith and extra blessings, get the primary children involved in praying for you.

When I went to youth conference one year, I had no idea of the impact it would have on me. We had three days packed full of fun activities, and I was excited to see old friends, meet new ones, and get involved. But my favorite part was the testimony meeting. The Spirit was strong as we bore our testimonies of the gospel, and many of us were moved to tears. For me this beautiful feeling lasted for days after the conference, and I wanted it to stay. I didn’t even watch TV or listen to non-Church music. This experience truly strengthened my testimony of the Church.
The Spirit is the only way for us to know the Church is true. We must do things to allow the Holy Ghost to be with us, like studying the scriptures, praying sincerely every day, and thinking of times when we have felt the Spirit. When we live with the Spirit, we can feel His warmth and know the Church is true. I love the gospel; it has answers and direction. I wish that everyone in the world could know what we know.
Tahnee H., age 20, South Australia

In another part of the capital city, young Ricardo Ayala and his family go to their stake center to watch a fireside broadcast from Salt Lake City, with simultaneous translation in their own language.
Ricardo, a member of the Guatemala City Guatemala Palmita Stake, will finish secondary school this year, and he hopes to go on a mission when he turns 19. While finding a job may not be easy, he plans to work and save so he can pay the whole cost of the mission himself.
Because of Latter-day Saints like the López and Ayala families, perceptions about the Church have changed in Guatemala. Misinformation about the Church, once common here, has little credibility now. Today many Guatemalans know Latter-day Saints and know what they stand for. The proportion of Church members in this nation’s population (about 1.5 percent) is close to that of the United States (about 1.8 percent). Just as the temple has become a landmark in Guatemala City, Latter-day Saints are becoming landmarks in their society.
Latter-day Saint missionaries first came to Guatemala in 1947, after John F. O’Donnal, a North American living there, visited Church headquarters in Salt Lake City and reported that there were people in the country ready to hear the gospel. His wife, Carmen, was the first Guatemalan baptized. Brother O’Donnal later served as a mission president and temple president in Guatemala.
In 1952 the Central American Mission was created. Before it was divided in 1965, it served six countries: Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador, Costa Rica, Nicaragua, and Panama. Now there are four missions in Guatemala alone and 40 stakes in the country. In 1989 Elder Carlos H. Amado, a native of Guatemala, was called as a member of the Seventy.
Map by Thomas S. Child
But several important challenges have faced the Church in Guatemala. One of the greatest challenges for Guatemalan members is fighting traditions, says Elder Lynn G. Robbins of the Seventy, former President of the Central America Area. The dominant religion of Guatemala does not involve its members in meetings or in teaching and leadership. So some new members find the transition to Church activity difficult. Some older members have simply slipped out of activity, so there is much work to be done in activation.
Following counsel from the Area Presidency, local priesthood leaders visit less-active members and use the same commitment pattern that missionaries use in teaching. They ask questions beginning with “Will you?” Will you visit with the bishop or branch president to resolve problems that are keeping you from full Church activity? Will you visit with him about getting a recommend and going to the temple? The questions are suited to the members’ needs.
When Milton Leonel Lima, bishop of the Minerva Ward, Jalapa Guatemala Stake, attempted this approach with 14 members, 10 accepted his invitation and began making the necessary changes in their lives. The bishop and his counselors immediately began identifying other members to visit.
The Area Presidency is also “focusing strongly on getting a greater number of our young men on missions,” Elder Robbins says. The percentage of those going on missions rose more than 50 percent in 2000.
Guatemalans also face economic challenges, with as many as 25 percent unemployed or underemployed. The Church’s area employment services office is providing training, particularly for returned missionaries, in preparing for and finding jobs or in starting businesses. The Church also assists microcredit organizations that help small businesses get started. And during school breaks, some stakes are offering classes for youth on job skills.
Life for Guatemalans has changed significantly in the years since the gospel was introduced in their country.
Notably, Guatemala’s indigenous people, including those of Mayan descent, are coming into the mainstream of the Church and of Guatemalan society. In Polochic and other centers of Mayan population, Church meetings are often conducted in members’ native languages, but most people can now speak Spanish. A generation ago, in the mid-1960s, some Spanish-speaking missionaries learned Mayan languages because in many families only the men spoke Spanish. Now this is no longer necessary.
Guatemala’s literacy rate has also improved, which means that many Mayan members can now read the scriptures that have been translated into their languages. The Book of Mormon is available in Kekchí, and selections from it are available in Quiché, Cakchiquel, and Mam, the principal Mayan languages of the country.
Timoteo and Eva Boj of Quetzaltenango are of Mayan descent; they joined the Church in the mid-1970s. Today members of the Boj family are well known in the community as successful entrepreneurs. From this family—which includes 8 children and their spouses and 18 grandchildren—have come four bishops, four Relief Society presidents, six Primary presidents, four Young Men presidents, five Young Women presidents, and seven missionaries. They are a family of hearty good humor who eagerly serenade visitors with a local favorite song, “Luna de Xelajú” (“Moon of Xelajú”; Xelajú is the traditional name for the city of Quetzaltenango). And their example and love for others have also brought many into the Church.
Faith is thriving among the Saints of Guatemala. Following are just a few examples:
Carlos Santíz, president of the Mazatenango Guatemala Stake, refers to notes made on a whiteboard during a meeting with bishops, explaining how they followed the direction of Church leaders to meet in council and plan to serve the needs of less-active members. “I’m grateful to the Lord for putting me in this stake presidency because it is a challenge—but a challenge I needed—and it has brought growth,” he says.
Nery Eduardo Marroquín, a counselor in the bishopric of a ward in the Retalhuleu Guatemala Stake, was an evangelical Christian before joining the Church five years ago through the influence of his wife, Ada. He grew up in a home where he learned the importance of personal prayer, the Bible, and worship of Jesus Christ as the Savior, but he felt there was something more. He found it in gospel ordinances that could allow him and his wife to have an eternal family. “Christ said no one will come to the Father ‘but by me’ [John 14:6],” he explains. “And the ordinances are through Him. That’s why it’s such a blessing to have a temple in Guatemala.”
Hector González of the Villa Nueva Guatemala Stake says the gospel has given him strength to face the cancer that cost him a leg and nearly took his life. At one point, he wondered why this should happen to him. His wife brought his patriarchal blessing to him in the hospital, and he found hope in its promise of a long life of service. When it became obvious that he would lose his right leg, he received a spiritual witness that all would be well. After the surgery, he recalls, “It was incredible the support I found in reading the Book of Mormon. It gave me the strength to go on.” Now back at work, he says, “I know the Lord has been watching over me. I know He has cared for me through all of this.”
Jorge Popá, a member of the Quetzaltenango Guatemala Stake, originally invited the sister missionaries to his home to help his wife understand the English instructions that came with the bread maker he had bought her. The sisters agreed—if they could also share the gospel message with the family. After the missionary lessons, Jorge and his wife, Mirna, told the missionaries they weren’t interested in baptism. But that night neither Jorge nor Mirna could sleep. At the same time, each felt moved to get out of bed and pray about what they had been taught, and each received the same manifestation of the truth. They sought out the sister missionaries at church on Sunday and asked to be baptized. After their baptism, the Popás faced the problem many converts face: how to tell their family they had broken with the traditional religion. Their four-year-old son (who is now a deacon) solved that problem at a family gathering. When someone served tea, he stood and announced, “We don’t drink that! We’re Mormons.”
Udine Falabella was president of the first stake organized in Guatemala, in 1967. In 1965, as district president in Guatemala City, he organized the first temple trip from the area, by bus across México to Mesa, Arizona, in the United States. It was a great blessing to Guatemala when the temple was dedicated in Guatemala City in 1984, he says. It was a blessing for him to serve later as its president; he was released in 2000 after more than four years in that position.
He recalls that, in dedicating the temple, President Gordon B. Hinckley pronounced a blessing of peace on the country. Not long afterward, the country’s long period of civil strife came to an end. Perhaps more important, though, was the fact that Guatemalan members could now enjoy the peace of the temple without having to travel so far from home.
Brother Falabella’s granddaughter Evelyn was married in that temple in December 2000. She says many young Guatemalans who see unhappy or failing marriages around them have lost faith in the institution of marriage and may feel it is better to put time into developing their careers, marrying later if at all. “I believe if I didn’t have the gospel in my life, I wouldn’t have dared get married right now,” she says. But through the gospel, she continues, there is peace in facing the challenges because we can know the eternal reasons for marriage and the everlasting blessings it can bring.
And that, says Brother Falabella, is indicative of the change that has come to the Church in Guatemala in his lifetime: thousands of strong Latter-day Saints now have all the means to implement full gospel programs and enjoy their blessings.
José Sazo agrees that the gospel blessings available in his country and his generation are rich—for those who strive to receive them. José, who was not yet born when that first stake was created in Guatemala, is now president of the Guatemala City Guatemala Florida Stake.
It takes constant, consistent effort to maintain strong families and marriages, President Sazo says. He and his wife, Claudia, both served missions in their country, and they agree that much of the secret to maintaining strong marriages can be found in two good habits learned by missionaries: frequent, loving companionship evaluations (conversations about how their marriage is going) and regular gospel study. “If I had a prescription for happiness,” President Sazo says, “it would be to study the scriptures together always.”
President Sazo adds that he and his wife “are agreed on this: we want to do everything we can for our children so they will become strong leaders and the Lord will be able to call them to do whatever He wants, without reservation.”
So it was with those strong Church members in this country more than half a century ago who were willing to persevere in the gospel no matter what challenges they faced. And so it is now with the heirs of this spiritual legacy: the future of the Church in Guatemala will be in the hands of those ready to answer the call of the Lord without reservation.

As the mother of four small children, I didn’t seem to have a spare moment. During one of my busy and hectic days, our bishop called and asked if he could meet with my husband and me. To my surprise he called me to be Relief Society president.
I told the bishop I would have to pray about it. I just didn’t know how I would be able to fulfill such a time-intensive calling at that time in my life. Feelings of inadequacy and uncertainty filled my mind, and I cried off and on for two days.
One of my visiting teachers, who had no idea what turmoil I was experiencing, called and made an appointment to see me. During her visit she shared a story about Emma Somerville McConkie, who had served as a Relief Society president during the early days of the Church in Utah. A woman in Sister McConkie’s ward had several children, including a new baby. Because the woman’s family was poor, Sister McConkie went daily to the home, taking food and helping the mother care for the child.
The story filled my heart and soul with comfort and peace. I knew that the Lord was aware of my circumstances, that He wanted me to serve the sisters in the ward, and that He would bless me so that I would be able to fulfill all of my responsibilities. I accepted the calling.
I am still amazed that I was able to fulfill my calling while tending to the needs and wants of my family, and I am grateful for a visiting teacher who was inspired to share a timely message. Since then I have never hesitated to accept a call. I have a testimony that when we serve our Heavenly Father, He blesses us with the time, energy, and ability we need to fulfill our callings.

Jackie didn’t like Mrs. Baxter very much.
When Jackie and her friend Tara played in the street, Mrs. Baxter shouted at them to be quiet. She chased Tara’s kitten away with her newspaper. And when Jackie’s Frisbee landed in the grumpy neighbor’s window box, she wouldn’t give the Frisbee back.
So when Jackie and Tara saw Mrs. Baxter come out of the grocery store and something flutter from her open purse, they didn’t run to pick it up for her.
“She’s mean,” Tara said.
“The meanest lady in town!” agreed Jackie. “She wouldn’t even listen when I said I was sorry that the Frisbee broke her flowers.”
They watched Mrs. Baxter put her sack of groceries on the hood of her car and rummage in her purse. She pulled out her keys, unlocked the car, put the groceries in the trunk, and drove away.
“She doesn’t know she dropped anything!” Tara exclaimed, watching the big black car turn the corner.
Jackie ran to see what Mrs. Baxter had dropped. “It’s a five-dollar bill!”
“Too bad for her!” Tara said. “Finders, keepers—losers, weepers!”
“We can’t keep it!” Jackie looked at her friend in surprise. “We saw her drop it. We have to give it back!”
“What about your Frisbee that she kept?” Tara said. “She owes you for a new one! It isn’t stealing!”
“Wellll …” Jackie looked at President Lincoln’s picture on the five-dollar bill. He seemed to be looking back at her. Quickly she stuffed the money into her pocket. “I guess it wouldn’t be stealing if I get a new Frisbee with it. Come on, let’s look for one.”
There was a sports store nearby. The girls squeezed past a display of gleaming bikes and headed toward the Frisbees.
“I wish she’d dropped a five-hundred-dollar bill!” whispered Tara. “Then we could both get new bikes!”
That would really be stealing, Jackie thought. Keeping five dollars is a lot different from keeping five hundred dollars! Or is it? She tried to ignore the tight feeling in her stomach. Of course it wasn’t stealing—Mrs. Baxter owed it to her.
“How about this one?” Tara held up a fluorescent pink Frisbee.
Jackie put her hand in her pocket, twisting the five-dollar bill around her fingers. She thought about President Lincoln. He was known as “Honest Abe.” What would he think of her if she spent the money?
Tara was waiting for her answer. “I’m not getting a Frisbee,” Jackie said. “It’s Mrs. Baxter’s money.”
“Wait—”
Tara tried to say something, but Jackie didn’t listen. She knew that her friend was saying that it was stupid to give the money back.
Hurrying out of the store, Jackie unlocked her bike and rode off. As she turned into her street, she saw Mrs. Baxter climbing the two front steps to her apartment building, struggling to get out her key with one hand while still clutching the grocery sack.
Jackie hesitated. She’ll probably just yell at me, she thought. Maybe Tara’s right.
Mrs. Baxter was inside by the time Jackie set her bike down and walked slowly toward the door. As she passed the window box, she noticed the broken geraniums. They had been propped up on sticks and tied in place with green yarn. Mrs. Baxter may not like children and kittens, but she loves her flowers.
Jackie stared at the doorbell. Slowly she lifted her finger and pushed. Was that thumping sound her heart pounding, or was it Mrs. Baxter’s footsteps? It was Tara running up the path to stand beside her. Jackie smiled at her friend.
The door opened two inches and Mrs. Baxter peered out from behind the security chain. “What do you want?”
“You dropped this by the supermarket.” Jackie held out the five-dollar bill. As she passed it through the gap in the door, Mrs. Baxter grabbed it, then slammed the door.
She didn’t even thank me for returning the money! She’ll probably always chase the kitten and shout at us and keep our Frisbees, Jackie thought.
Jackie still didn’t like Mrs. Baxter. But she liked herself. Mrs. Baxter may not like me, but I’m glad that I returned the money. She was sure that Heavenly Father was pleased with her, too, and that was what mattered.

What goals are you planning to set this year?
I want to build my own spaceship and fly to Mars! Want to come with me?
I think I’ll stay on this planet.
Actually, I wanted to plan some ways to serve people this year.
Me too! I bet we could help a lot of people if we work together.
I was thinking that too. But I’m not sure where to start.
Well, what about that new family in the ward?
Oh yeah! I really like Jada and Tyler, but I’ve only seen them at Primary a few times.
I think their parents work most weekends.
Hey, we could ask them to come with us to Primary, and to activities, and …
And Mars will just have to wait.

My father was called to preside over the East German Mission at the outbreak of World War II. At this time, he was also drafted into the German army. He directed the affairs of the mission from the battlefield through his two counselors.
One Sabbath before Christmas, he felt very lonely, stationed in Denmark away from his family, and wanted to worship God in sacrament meeting. He didn’t know whether a Church branch existed in Esbjerg, but he assumed there might be one somewhere in the city. He didn’t speak the language, but, dressed in his full military uniform, he hummed the tune of a favorite hymn as he walked on a city street. He hoped he would attract someone’s attention who could lead him to the Church.
Sure enough, as a little girl passed my father, she asked him in Danish, “Mormon?” and, seeing him nod his head, she led him to the branch meetinghouse.
My father risked his life, realizing that if he were discovered by Nazi officials among enemy people in their worship services, he could face a charge of treason, punishable by death. He also took a risk by surrendering his weapon belt to the branch president at the door and by accepting an invitation to deliver a Christmas message during sacrament meeting in another enemy tongue—English.
A young Danish girl who was a member of the branch wrote to my mother about the strange experience of having an enemy soldier in their midst:
Last night I visited the branch. There was a German there, your husband. Even though many Danish people hate Germans, we learned to love this man. He spoke to the congregation in English, and William Orum Peterson translated. Your husband related how only a month ago, he had lost everything he had, and the mission home had been destroyed. But he was thankful that his wife and children were safe. He then gave testimony of the truthfulness of the Church. It was wonderful to see a man in the uniform we hated speak with so much love for us. He was happy to be among the Saints.

One day my older brother Wallace and I were on our way to school. It had been raining the previous day and the ground was very muddy, especially along the street on which the building known as Joseph’s brick store was. Wallace and I both got stuck fast in the mud and could not get out. And, childlike, we began to cry. Looking up, I beheld the loving friend of children, the Prophet Joseph, coming to us. He soon had us on higher and drier ground. Then he stooped down and cleaned the mud from our little heavy-laden shoes, took his handkerchief from his pocket, and wiped our tear-stained faces. He spoke kind and cheering words to us and sent us on our way to school rejoicing. You can see why Wallace and I loved him.

In 1840, when Charles was twenty-one years old, he heard two Mormon missionaries preaching the gospel. He knew that what they were teaching was true, and he asked to be baptized. Charles was the only member of his family to join the Church. Not long after his baptism, Charles also became a missionary and was the companion of the missionary who baptized him! Charles served his mission in England and North Wales until 1843.

Mike was the youngest and the littlest in his family.
He was too young to go to school with his brother and sister. He was too little to play basketball with them.
Mike couldn’t eat as fast as the rest of his family, so sometimes the dessert would be all gone by the time he was ready for seconds.
He still couldn’t tie his shoelaces so that they stayed tied.
Sometimes he couldn’t reach the toy he wanted in the toy cabinet. And the cookie jar was completely out of his reach.
Mike couldn’t ride a bike yet—he was still riding his tricycle. And he wasn’t allowed to cross the street alone.
He was too small to climb the tree that grew behind the house—he couldn’t reach even the lowest branch.
Mike couldn’t stay up as late as his brother or his sister, either—they were allowed to stay up a whole hour longer!
Sometimes it was very hard to be the youngest and the littlest.
But there were times when being the youngest and the littlest could be nice.
When Grandma came to visit, Mike was the only one little enough to sit on her lap.
Sometimes when his brother and sister were in school, Mike and his mother went shopping together. The lady in the bakery would often give him a big cookie. And after lunch his mother would have time to read a story to him. They would laugh together at the pictures in the storybook. That was fun!
Some days his sister would give Mike a ride in his red wagon. He was the only one little enough to fit into it.
Mike was small enough that he could turn cartwheels right in the family room. His brother and sister were not allowed to do that.
When Mike and Daddy went for walks, Daddy would give him a piggyback ride home. Pretty soon he would be too big for that, Daddy said, but now he was just the right size.
One day something happened that made Mike very happy that he was little.
The whole family had been shopping together. When they got home, no one had a house key.
“How can we get in?” they asked each other.
“I know,” said Mother. “That small window is open. If we boost Mike up to the window, he can climb through it and open the door from the inside.”
Daddy boosted Mike up to the small window. He wriggled through it, then ran to open the front door. His mother, father, brother, and sister came in.
“You’re our hero, Mike,” they all said. “You rescued us!”
Mike grinned. Sometimes being the youngest and the littlest was a very good thing.

Once, as I sat by my father’s bedside through the night, he talked about his childhood. He spoke of the love of his parents in difficult times and of the love of his Heavenly Father and the Savior. I knew he was dying of cancer, so it did not surprise me that at times he mixed up his feelings for his Heavenly Father with the love and kindness of his earthly father. My father had often said that when he prayed, he thought he could see in his mind the smile of Heavenly Father.
His parents had taught him by example to pray as if he spoke to God and that God would answer him in love. He needed that example to the end. When the pain became intense, we found him in the morning on his knees by the bed. He had been too weak to get back into bed. He told us he had been praying to ask his Heavenly Father why he had to suffer so much when he had always tried to be good. He said a kindly answer came: “God needs brave sons.”
And so he soldiered on to the end, trusting that God loved him, listened to him, and would lift him up. He was blessed to have known early and to never forget that a loving God is as close as a prayer.

When a single adult friend of mine moved to a new geographic ward where he did not know anyone, his way of creating a community of faith was through service. He actively volunteered for elders quorum projects, from helping people move to assisting older members. As he did, he was able to get to know the members of his quorum and the people they were serving—both members and neighbors. He shared his faith and developed friendships with his new community.

It was a dark and stormy night.
Well, okay, maybe it was a sunny afternoon.
Whenever it was, somebody sneaked up outside the window of James B. Young’s dormitory room on the Ricks College campus. They pulled out a roll of masking tape. Then cautiously, they formed letters—backwards—on the window, so that when Jamie opened the curtains in the morning, he would read the words the right way. This was their message:
“We Love U.”
All of which brings us back to the masked message taped on Jamie’s window one dark and stormy night.
“We Love U,” it said.
If James Brigham Young has anything to say about it, that may well become the official nickname for Ricks College.

In a message of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir’s Music and the Spoken Word, a story was told about an elderly man and woman who had been married for many decades. Because the wife was slowly losing her sight, she could no longer take care of herself the way she had done for so many years. Without being asked, the husband began to paint her fingernails for her.
Photo illustration by Jupiterimages/liquidlibrary/Thinkstock
“He knew that she could see her fingernails when she held them close to her eyes, at just the right angle, and they made her smile. He liked to see her happy, so he kept painting her nails for more than five years before she passed away.”3

DeAnne Winkel composed most of the songs. She recalls Sister Anderson meeting her at school and telling her she needed another song by that evening with the only instructions being the range and that it should be “a questioning song.” She knelt by the piano bench and pleaded with the Lord for his help. One-half hour later she was knocking on Sister Anderson’s door with the song recorded on the tape in her hand. They both wept as they listened.

In July 2003, a friend convinced me to participate in the Burley Spudman Triathlon—a race consisting of a 1-mile swim, 25-mile bike ride, and 6-mile run. At the time, I had been running regularly and biked occasionally but did not swim well. When I expressed concerns, I was told the swim would be easy as it would take place in the Snake River. All I needed to do was stay in the current and the river would do most of the work. Convinced, I agreed to the race and diligently trained for the bike and run. However, I did not focus on my swimming.
The day of the race arrived and after getting in the water, I worked my way to the edge to be out of the way of the stronger swimmers. Unfortunately, I also managed to move myself out of the strongest current and I did not realize this until well into the race. Because I had not prepared myself for swimming, it was more difficult than expected, and I became exhausted to the point I feared drowning. Eventually—and thankfully—I was able to finish the swim leg of the race.
What would have made the difference for me in this experience? Being “all in” the strongest current would have helped. Also, had I been all in with my preparation before the race ever started, my success would not have been dependent on the current alone. On several levels, I was not all in.
In the frantic moments of my swim that day in 2003, one of the pervading thoughts that kept me going was that my mother had come to cheer me on, and she was waiting to encourage me where the swim leg ended. Knowing she was expecting me to emerge from that river was a strong motivator that was almost as powerful as my desire not to die. Though I was one of the last ones out of the water, she never indicated disappointment or judgment—only love, support, and encouragement.

Many people would think Paula was doing all she could, but she decided that her peers needed to do more than escape bad situations; they needed chances to participate in good ones. Paula noticed that a large number of athletically talented Hispanic students were not involved in school sports. When she invited them to join her on the track team, she found that the problem was not lack of talent or desire, but a lack of money to provide physical exams, sports insurance, and track shoes.
Paula found a local health facility that was willing to do the examinations for free if each person was prompt for the appointments. She then petitioned service clubs and individuals to give financial aid for shoes and insurance. Donations finally covered costs. The track team got several new members.

When McKay Hatch of Pasadena, California, and his friends started middle school at age 12, he was bothered by the increase in bad language. “I think what bothered me most,” says McKay, “was that they were using it every other word. It wasn’t just that they used a cuss word when they stubbed their toe. It was becoming part of their everyday language.”
McKay got up his nerve, spoke to his friends, and basically said that if they wanted to continue hanging out with him, they had to quit using bad language. He wondered if he would lose all his friends, but they stuck with him and cleaned up their language. McKay came up with the idea of starting a club—a No Cussing Club.
The first club meeting was held June 1, 2007, at the end of the school year. “A lot of people came,” says McKay. “I was surprised. We talked about what our goals were going to be and what we could do.” Since that simple beginning, McKay reports having members or branches of the club in all 50 states and in 35 countries. They now have T-shirts, wristbands, and a Web site.
The club wanted to have a cuss-free week in their city. McKay wrote to the city council, who agreed, and last year, March 3–7 was declared Cuss-Free Week. In March 2009, the county of Los Angeles, home to over 10 million people, is also going have a Cuss-Free Week, with McKay receiving the proclamation.
It hasn’t all been smooth sailing. At first, McKay almost quit because of negative response. Sometimes people would yell bad words at him. Or they would accuse him of trying to take away their freedom of speech. McKay points out that he isn’t making them do anything. He asks them to challenge themselves to improve. “I’m just trying to bring awareness about people’s language.”
McKay is often asked to talk at elementary schools. He tells the younger kids that their words become their thoughts, their thoughts become their actions, their actions become their character, and their character becomes their destiny. “I tell them it all starts with your words.”

In the summer of 1977, I waited anxiously for my mission call. Most of my friends and classmates had already left on their missions, and that summer was a lesson on patience for me. Leading up to that event in my life I had prayed on a regular basis that my Heavenly Father would send me on a foreign mission. After years of fervently praying for such to take place, I was confident the Lord would answer my prayers with an exotic location to spend my two years as a fulltime missionary.

The call finally came on a hot afternoon while I was working for a local plumber. My younger brother brought me the large envelope that so many of you have received. I'm not sure why I didn't wait to open the call later that night with my family, but it simply wasn't something we did back then it seemed. I wiped the sweat and dirt from my brow and wiped my hands off on my already muddy pants, and tore the big envelope open. From looking at a number of mission calls over the previous months, I knew right where to look in the letter for those wonderful words telling where I would serve, (first paragraph—third line). My eyes quickly tried to focus on the print through the sweat, and for an instant I was sure the Lord indeed had been good and kind to me, and had answered my repeated prayers. I was sure my first glance comprehended the words "Acapulco Mexico," and then as I looked with more intent, I realized the actual words on the paper read "Albuquerque, New Mexico." I suddenly became breathless, as if someone had punched me in the stomach. How could it be so? I stood there for a moment in disbelief, then became angry, threw the mission call to the ground, left that muddy ditch, and drove home. I went directly to my room, threw myself on the bed, and wept like a little child. How could this be so after years of what I thought were fervent prayers? Later that night, when the anger subsided to some degree, I offered a half-hearted prayer to the heavens. I asked in a bit of subdued rage as it were, "Surely Heavenly Father, there is no one better prepared than me to serve a foreign mission?" The following scripture applied to my situation that day.

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord." [4]

Now—you must know—that I still have my mission call letter, and it still has mud on it. I indeed served two years in the Albuquerque New Mexico mission—two wonderful years—and my prayers now are such that I might be blessed to go back there with my good wife someday and serve again. I had a tremendous experience there and it truly was and I'm sure still is the best mission in the Church. But—that day—my heart was not in the right place, and I learned a valuable lesson, that satisfying my plans to serve where and when in the Church was not the right approach to find out what my Heavenly Father had in store for me. That day taught me the deeper concept of obedience, the necessity for submission, and in my case, the sting of humility in one fell swoop.