Gospel Story Finder

“Since you’re friends with us now, you can’t be friends with anyone else,” Jada told me.
“OK,” I said. I couldn’t believe I was friends with the popular girls! I was so lucky! This year was going to be so cool. I could hardly wait to see what popular kids did to be, well, popular.
After school my old friend Aaliyah met me. “Hey, La-Neisha, are you ready?” she asked. We lived on the same street, and normally we walked home together.
I looked around me. I didn’t want Jada to see me talking to Aaliyah.
“No, I don’t want to walk home with you,” I said. Aaliyah looked confused and sad as I turned and walked home alone, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to risk losing my new, popular friends.
That Sunday in Primary, I looked for a place to sit. Aaliyah waved at me. There was an empty seat by her, but I didn’t sit there. Even at church I couldn’t risk sitting by someone who wasn’t popular, I decided. Besides, who needed friends at church? Having the right friends at school was more important.
The next few days, Aaliyah kept asking me to walk home with her, and I kept saying no. Why won’t she leave me alone? I thought. Can’t she see I’m not her friend anymore? I was hanging out with my new friends a lot. Being popular was fun! I tried not to notice Aaliyah at school or church. I told myself she had other friends, so I didn’t have to talk to her.
One night the phone rang. Mom answered it and frowned as she listened.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll talk to her. Thanks for calling.” Mom hung up the phone.
“La-Neisha,” Mom said to me. “That was Aaliyah’s mom. She says you won’t walk home with Aaliyah or even talk to her. Aaliyah is really sad. She doesn’t understand why you keep ignoring her.”
My stomach got tight. I tried to come up with something to say, but I didn’t think Mom would understand how important my new friends were to me.
“I just don’t want to be friends with her anymore,” I said. But I felt guilty. I knew that wasn’t true. I thought of how mean I had been to Aaliyah lately. We used to be good friends. I knew in my heart that the way I was treating Aaliyah was wrong.
On Sunday, Sister Hong gave a lesson on repentance. She said, “If you do something wrong, you need to ask the person you have hurt for forgiveness.” I kept thinking about those words. I knew what I needed to do. I didn’t care what Jada, or any of my popular friends, thought. I was going to talk to Aaliyah and say sorry.
After church I saw Aaliyah. My stomach knotted, but I knew I should ask her for forgiveness. I needed to be kind at school and church—and everywhere in between. I swallowed hard and took a deep breath.
“Hi, Aaliyah,” I said. “Can I talk to you?”
Aaliyah’s face lit up. “Of course.”
The knot in my stomach came undone. Aaliyah didn’t have to forgive me, but I still wanted to ask. Maybe we could start walking home together again. And we could be new, old friends.

I noted that we also bear our testimonies by our lives. In World War II I was stationed at an army camp in Pennsylvania. We lived in a little ward in which our stake patriarch also lived. His name was William G. Stoops. Brother Stoops worked at a machine shop in the little town of Waynesboro, Pennsylvania. Everyone called him “Pappy.” He was a kindly, gentle, wonderful, exemplary member of the Church. All who met him honored and admired him. One time a nonmember with whom he worked said something like this: “I don’t know much about the Mormon church. I have never met with the missionaries, and I have never studied the doctrine. I have never been to one of their services, but I know Pappy Stoops; and if the Church produces men like Pappy Stoops, it has to have much good in it.” We never know the power of our own example for either good or bad.

There will be times, however, when adapting to a sibling’s behavior is not enough. Simply avoiding or ignoring your brother or sister may not work when you feel your basic rights as a person are being overlooked. For Doug and Brent, the TV was a constant source of conflict. Both tended to be possessive of the television, always changing channels without asking. A channel-changing war inevitably ensued every time they sat down to watch the television. The fight would soon be blown out of proportion, and the two brothers were often at each other’s throats—literally—over a TV show.

Since the family owned one television, their behavior affected everyone. Occasionally, the boys made compromises, but they were temporary and soon forgotten. A long-term solution was needed.

This came in the form of a preplanned TV schedule decided on by the entire family at the start of each week. Mom and Dad limited the viewing hours and made sure the “TV menu” was fair for all. Brent and Doug’s fighting eventually stopped because they were often reminded of the schedule and the new compromise.

As Dillon worked with the sound crew to record the songs, he struggled with one note. “I couldn’t hit it,” he says. “We rehearsed for hours.”
Finally, exhausted and discouraged, he went home that night, knowing that the next morning he’d have to record the song.
“I went straight to my room and prayed to my Heavenly Father to help me,” he says.
All he could think about was how important the soundtrack would be to the 50,000 members of the Church in Tonga, as well as thousands of others who speak Tongan around the world.
“It was one of the longest nights of my life,” he says.
After a long night of prayer and a little bit of sleep, Dillon walked into the recording studio and hit the note.
“Hallelujah,” he remembers saying. “I was happy.”

On another occasion two of our elders, rather young and inexperienced, had gone to open a new city to missionary work. The city was almost totally Catholic and was reportedly under the domination of the Catholic bishop who lived there. As these elders went about their work, making contacts and becoming acquainted, people frequently said to them, “Does the bishop know you are here?”
They would answer, “We don’t know.”
“Well, it will be interesting to see what happens when he finds out.”
One day the trouble came. A priest came to their lodging and delivered a letter. It said in substance, “We would like to know by what authority you come into this community and teach your doctrine without having first cleared it with the bishop of this area. Therefore, we ask you to appear at a special meeting that will be held at the central Catholic church.”
The elders called mission headquarters.
“President, what should we do? Can you come and help us?”
I answered, “No, I can’t come, but they have offered you an invitation to explain what we believe. That is what you went there for, isn’t it?”
“Well, yes, but how do we handle this situation?”
I said, “I’ll have my assistant join you. Accept the invitation, but do it on two conditions. Say, ‘We’ll be glad to come if we are treated with courtesy and if you will assure us the opportunity to explain what we believe.’”
In the meeting, the priest in charge, without any formality, stood up and said, “These two young men are here teaching their religion, and we have called you together to hear an explanation of their doctrine.” There were two or three hundred people present representing the influential people of the city.
The elders then stood up and spoke of the Apostasy, the Restoration, and the Book of Mormon. As they finished, they said, “If you people will read this Book of Mormon and pray about it, the Lord will give you a testimony.” A priest in the rear of the hall immediately jumped up and said, “Oh, no, no, no. None of you can read that book.” Everyone laughed. The only problem occurred after the meeting when a Seventh-day Adventist got into an argument with one of the priests. Our elders, on the other hand, had several very pleasant conversations. From then on they caused no problems by proselyting in that city.

Patricia M., 18, had a couple of challenges. For one, like Axel, she’s not sealed to her parents.

“My mom and stepfather are sealed in the temple. And my sister is sealed to them because she was born in the covenant. But I am not sealed to them. I have my dad and my stepfather, and I don’t know what to do, if I should be sealed to them because he’s not my birth dad. It’s very difficult for me.”

Patricia also has struggled with finding an answer to a very significant question: whether or not to serve a mission. She knew that serving a mission was not an obligation for women in the Church. But she also wasn’t sure what was the right thing for her.

“It’s difficult to explain, but it’s hard to decide to leave and serve when my dad is not a member of the Church.”

Patricia found comfort and answers by gathering with other youth in places where she’d feel the Spirit. “I came to a multistake youth conference this summer seeking answers. And I decided to attend a class on preaching the gospel. As I began to teach my companions, it was like I could see myself teaching other people and being able to share the gospel.

“And I really felt like I should go on a mission. That I should do it. I had been praying and praying about this. And in my heart I felt a feeling of happiness when I thought about serving a mission. I feel so happy in the gospel, and so grateful for Heavenly Father. How is it I can’t dedicate a year and a half of my life? And how can I not share the gospel and help others come to the gospel of Jesus Christ?

“I never thought I would serve a mission. I am very happy here. I find peace here. I have good friends, my family. Even though we aren’t sealed. But my question was answered. And I’m going to serve a mission.”

The second story is a little closer to home. It involves an eight-year-old grandson. It seems as little Sam, our wonderful grandson, has been collecting Yu-Gi-Oh! Cards (I had not heard of them before and know little about them) and happened to acquire one of the most cherished and sought-after cards called the Blue-eyed White Dragon. A friend learned Sam owned the rare card and attempted to negotiate a trade. After much give and take, a deal was struck between the two boys. Sam would receive a whole stack of his friend’s cards and in turn Sam would surrender the Blue-eyed White Dragon card. During Family Home This evening on the day after conference Sam’s family talked about conference talks. On Sunday, Sam had attended General Conference to render much needed support to his grandfather. Sam, of course, heard the more can be less talk. Late Monday evening Sam came to his mother sobbing. She inquired why he was crying. Between sobs he tearfully said: “Grandpa is right. More is not better. I want the Blue-eyed White Dragon more than all the cards I received in trade.” Mother and son had a soothing conversation.

The rest of the story follows. Unbeknownst to Sam his older brother was a witness to the negotiations and the ultimate trade. He quietly negotiated a trade himself. By parting with a popular toy he gained possession of the valuable card. He didn’t share his secret with Sam. On Tuesday morning Sam asked his mother if it would be OK if he went to his friend and asked him to reverse the trade. Sam’s wise mother said, “You can ask but know that you likely will not be successful and remember a deal is a deal.” It was when he approached his friend that Sam learned his own brother was the owner of the favorite card. Appropriate arrangements were made, and now Sam has resumed ownership of the much revered Blue-eyed White Dragon and is also much wiser when it comes to more may not necessarily be better.

On a Monday evening not long ago, my wife, Lesa, and I stopped by the home of a young family in our neighborhood. While we were there, the family invited us to stay for family home evening, telling us their nine-year-old son had prepared the lesson. Of course we stayed!
Following the opening song, prayer, and family business, the nine-year-old began by reading an insightful question included in his handwritten lesson: “How does the Holy Ghost help you?” This question began a meaningful family discussion as everyone shared ideas and insights. I was impressed by our teacher’s lesson preparation and his very good question, which stirred in me over and over again.
Since then, I have continued to ask myself, “How does the Holy Ghost help you?”—a question especially relevant for Primary children turning eight and preparing for baptism and for those children who have recently been baptized and received the gift of the Holy Ghost. It is also relevant for the thousands of recent converts.

Growing up, I was the kid you didn’t have to worry about. I had been active in the Church all my life. I had been the president of my priesthood quorums and seminary classes. I went to every youth conference, temple trip, Scouting event, and Mutual night. I also had a testimony of the gospel. Yet when I became a member of my priests quorum, I struggled, though no one knew it. After all, I was the kid you didn’t have to worry about.
Those first few weeks and months in the quorum I did what I always did: I went to church, Mutual, and Scouting activities. Inwardly, however, I was battling. I didn’t feel that I was a part of the group or that the other young men wanted me there. I wanted desperately to belong.
As time went on, I had questions and doubts about whether I wanted to be a part of the quorum. But I remained active, silently suffering and hoping that something or someone would help me feel welcome.
My father and I had just finished fixing up my first car, a beautiful 1967 Ford Mustang. Brother Stay, my Young Men president, asked about it from time to time. I thought his questions showed his interest in a classic car—not in a young man.
All this changed one rainy evening after Mutual. Because of the downpour, Brother Stay drove us all home from the church, dropping me off last. When he saw my blue Mustang in the driveway, he again asked about it. I offered to let him see the engine I had spent hours and hours repairing.
Brother Stay knew little about cars, and he had a wife and young son at home waiting for him. Yet there he stood in the dark, in the rain, looking at a barely visible car engine. At that moment I realized that he wasn’t doing what he was doing to see a classic car—he was doing it because he cared about me.
Because of that minute and a half standing in the rain, I found what I needed. I finally felt welcomed. My silent prayers had been answered.
Since then I have been to the temple, served a mission, graduated from college, and tried to keep my covenants. Brother Stay may not remember that moment, but I will never forget it.

The next Sunday, i was contacted by some missionaries who asked me if they could visit me at home during the week. I agreed and set an appointment with them. I requested that they bring a copy of the Book of Mormon to me when they came to my house. The missionaries arrived and told me amongst other things “Brother Nimako, do you know that God loves you? The gospel we teach can bless you and your family.” I enjoyed their visit and scheduled another appointment.

I read my copy of the Book of Mormon and prayed. I pondered on the message the missionaries shared and what I was reading in the book of Mormon. I had a good feeling as I did this. I couldn’t wait to be baptised!

What can you do to strengthen marriage and family? One thing is be a good example and don’t apologize for valuing marriage and family. In my first teaching job at a university back East some colleagues routinely teased me about being married and especially having multiple children. I tried to take the teasing in stride. Then, years later after taking a position at BYU, one of those who used to ridicule me, called. He said that he had fallen in love and was thinking of getting married. I told him that I thought marriage was a wonderful institution and that he should take the leap. He said, “you don’t understand, she will want children.” I said that I also find children a great joy. He then asked a telling question, “Do you think I can be happily married and be happy as a father?” I told him that marriage helps people grow and change for the better and that so do children. He got married, he and his wife have three children and I will never forget how proud he was to show photos of his first child soon after her birth.

What lessons can we learn from my colleague’s phone call. People will often not tell you they respect you for your commitment to marriage and family. But they are watching and as in this case, modeling.

Speaking of music, one of the most obvious places to use a musical talent is in the orchestra pit. It’s hard work, say Shane Larsen, 14, and his brother Joseph, 16. When you point out to Shane that nobody really sees the orchestra, he says, “Yes, but they hear us. And if the music isn’t good, the play won’t be any good either.” Joseph admits that when he was on stage in previous productions, he kind of took the orchestra for granted, too. But not any more.

Of course, when it comes to being seen, no one would be seen—or heard—if the stage and sound and light crews were not on the job. Sandy stake’s Thomas Craft, 19, has acted in some productions, but he prefers to work behind the scenes. “Backstage people don’t always get credit, but they are very important for the play to turn out the way it should.”

Which brings up some of the things the stage can teach you about life. Kaisa Hansen was in Pirates. Now she’s a student at BYU. As much as anything, performing gave her an appreciation of the work of others. “When you get involved, you see how much people do behind the scenes. I have started realizing how much work people put into things. And when you are involved in something with other people, and you just play a small role, you are part of the glue that holds things together.”

Eli Hansen, 15, of Burley, talks about another lesson learned from the stage: “When you’re not part of the action, don’t upstage the others. Focus attention on them. Stay in character all the time. There’s always somebody watching you. You represent the Church name, your family name, even your employer. You have to be ‘on’ around the clock.”

When you get involved in stake productions or even Church pageants, there are still more lessons learned—things that shape and strengthen your testimony. Many of those who performed in Promised Valley volunteered that the experience had given them a greater appreciation of the pioneers and of their own heritage. As Spencer Williams notes, “To get into character, you have to imagine what it would have been like.” For him, the miracle of the crickets and the seagulls took on much deeper meaning.

Just like the friendships formed, those kinds of experiences can stay with you for years. Amy Hill, 18, of the Taylorsville Utah Central Stake, remembers when she was in her stake’s performance of the Book-of-Mormon-based A Day, a Night, and a Day. Amy was a ninth grader and had only a small nonspeaking part. But she has vivid memories of “acting out the Book of Mormon, thinking, Wow! this is so cool. This is how it would have felt.” Would she do it again? “I’d definitely recommend that kind of experience. I miss it sometimes.”

So what do the critics say? You’ve just heard from the critics who matter most—the people who have done it. So next time you have a chance to get on the stage (or behind the scenes, or in the orchestra pit) don’t start looking for the first stage out of town. If you want to develop friends, talents, and self-confidence, that stake musical or school play or community theater may be just the ticket.

Be a critic. The world judges plays and musicals as good or bad based on how well they are written and performed. Latter-day Saints must be concerned about content. What is the message? Are language and costumes appropriate? If you have to “become your character” in order to act well, what kind of character are you being asked to play? Several of the young people we talked to indicated that they were touched emotionally and spiritually by what they were portraying.

Be aware. There are lots of opportunities to get involved in wholesome theater. Most—but not all—school plays are safe. (Get a look at the script if you are unsure.) Stake and ward productions are a wonderful opportunity for friendships and personal growth. And many communities—especially those with a strong LDS influence—have local theater companies that have high moral standards. Ask around.

Be prepared to commit yourself and work hard. Rehearsals can be boring and tiring. But when everything comes together, the payoff can be terrific.

And so, brothers and sisters, the first tool of the capacity to create is integrity, and the second is the patience borne of faith that allows things to happen in the Lord’s own time. I have learned much from you. I will tell you of a student; I will call her Ann. That is not her name.

Ann was a young woman with many friends; and, as it turned out, one of her friends was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. In the process of this rather large group of young women being friends, the member of the Church invited the others to hear the missionaries teach their discussions. Ann was one of those who went. She later told her mother that she had gone and heard the Mormon missionaries, which startled her mother a great deal because she was staunch (as was Ann’s dad) in her own faith. The young woman assured her mother that it was really only a lark, that it was just kind of fun to hear what they had to say. She said, “Mother, if it will make you feel better, every time I hear the missionaries I will go to our church leader and have him explain what was wrong about what I heard.” The mother reluctantly agreed. But as the daughter continued to listen, the power of the Spirit touched her life and she came not to believe but to know that what she was hearing was true. Her mother had earlier said, “If you ever join the Mormon Church, don’t tell me and don’t tell your dad because it would kill us to know that.” She agreed that she would not.

As the time came of decision about joining the Church, she decided two things. She decided to join the Church, and she also decided that she would not tell her mother and dad because they had asked her not to.

Over time she came to believe in her own heart that somehow they knew and had accepted it, and life would be fine. That was not the case. Ann decided to apply and come to Ricks College. She did so, and upon arriving the first night, she called back home to tell her parents that she was safe and so happy and so excited. In the meantime, her parents had learned from a neighbor that Ann had joined the Church. When her parents picked up the phone and she bubbled over about her happiness, there was no response until finally her mother said, “Ann, we have learned that you joined the Mormon Church, and your father and I are trying to forget that you ever existed.” And there was a click.

Ann immediately sought the comfort and help of the Lord in prayer and then of her bishop. She was counseled that the only thing she could control in this matter was what she did. She was encouraged to write to her parents every week and to reaffirm her love for them and her joy in doing good things. She began to do that, and she did that through all the fall semester and all of the winter semester until the very end. She came in again to her bishop, as she had done on a number of occasions, discouraged and feeling that she had been forgotten both by her parents, whom she loved, and by the Lord who had not answered her prayers. She was once again reassured and went home. Later that evening, the phone rang.

Now remember the scripture, the Lord said, “. . . my words are sure and shall not fail . . . But all things must come to pass in their time.”

The phone rang; Ann answered and heard this: “Ann, your father and I could not forget that you existed. We love you, and we need you; and we wondered if there was any way you could come home this weekend because there are some things we wish to say to you.” Ann responded: “Mother, there are some things I wish to hear. I’ll be home this weekend.”

Vroom! Peter’s new remote-controlled car seemed to roar to life. It zigzagged through crumpled wrapping paper. It zoomed under the Christmas tree, its blue paint reflecting the lights.
When Peter had unwrapped his present that morning, he just knew it would be the fastest race car around. He was planning to make a race track for it.
But first Peter had to go to the homeless shelter with his family. Last week they had decided to help serve dinner to people there on Christmas night. Peter had liked the idea then. But now he just wanted to keep playing with his car.
Peter slowly put his boots on. “Why can’t I stay home?” he grumbled.
Dad ruffled Peter’s hair. “Getting toys for Christmas is fun. But Christmas is really about Jesus. That’s why we wanted to celebrate His birth by doing something He would do—helping others.”
Peter still didn’t feel like going. But he trudged out the door anyway.
Once they got to the shelter, a lady led them to the kitchen. Peter followed her to his spot, and she handed him a spoon. His job was to serve green beans. Yuck! he thought.
People started coming in the cafeteria. One by one, they moved through the line. Peter dumped a spoonful of green beans on each plate. Scoop, plop. Scoop, plop. He couldn’t think of anything more boring. His mind kept going back to the race track he wanted to build.
Peter scooped another spoonful of green beans. When he looked up he saw a boy sliding his tray closer. Peter spooned the beans onto the boy’s plate. He looked up again, and their eyes met. The boy smiled. “Thank you!” he said. Peter watched him sit down by a tall woman. They looked happy. That made Peter happy too.
Maybe Dad was right, Peter thought. He could play with his toys anytime. But coming here was special. He thought about how Jesus spent His life helping people. And wasn’t Christmas about celebrating Jesus’s birthday?
When the next person came through the line, Peter smiled as he scooped beans onto her plate.
“Merry Christmas,” Peter said.
He tried to smile at everyone who came through the line. Not everyone smiled back, and that was OK.
On the ride home, Peter looked at Dad. “I think I understand what you said earlier, about what Christmas is really about.”
“Oh yeah?”
“It’s not about getting stuff,” Peter said. “Helping people is more important.”
“I think you’re right,” said Dad. “And maybe we can come back soon to help again.”
Peter grinned as he looked out the window. He was glad he’d spent Christmas night helping others, like Jesus would.

Have you ever wondered what it’s like to be buried alive? I have to admit it was never exactly on my top ten list of things to think about, until it actually happened.
And if it weren’t for a troop of LDS Boy Scouts and Hoover the Wonder Dog, I’d probably still be buried six feet under snow today.
Of course, if it weren’t for the Scouts, I wouldn’t have been buried in the first place. On one of the coldest, snowiest days Salt Lakers can remember, Scouts from Parleys First Ward and members of Utah area search and rescue units helped each other stage an avalanche rescue drill. I volunteered to be one of the victims. (Okay, so I didn’t actually volunteer. I got talked into it.)
We all met in the church parking lot early one Saturday morning, and I couldn’t help but wonder if the dark skies, subzero temperatures, impassable roads, and snow flurries would postpone our little exercise. No way. These Scouts were Wasatch Mountain born and bred. They live for snow. They ski, snowshoe, and snowboard on it all winter long. The things they were about to learn would be extremely useful to them. And they knew how important it was that the search and rescue dogs get some practice.
“We’re always in the mountains in the winter,” said Dan Kaelberer, 15. “It’s important to learn about the threat of avalanches and what to do if one happens.”
Tyler Olsen was especially unaffected by the bad weather. This would be the culmination of his Eagle Scout service project. He’d already been to sporting goods stores in the valley, distributing free backcountry safety literature for their customers. He’d helped at a special prep seminar for the Scouts, where they watched an avalanche video and received special instruction from Dan Davis, their Young Men secretary and owner of Hoover, a search and rescue dog.
So about 25 of us, including Scouts, their leaders, and a few news people, piled into four-wheel drive vehicles and headed for the hills—make that mountains. We’re talking Rockies.
Once we got up out of the Salt Lake Valley and up to Guardsman Pass where the drill was to be held, the weather wasn’t half as bad, and the scenery was incredible. Snow was everywhere, generously frosting the trees and covering the ground in a great, thick blanket. It looked soft and inviting—harmless, even. That’s probably what a lot of people think just before they put themselves in avalanche danger.
“A lot of people don’t realize that avalanches can happen so easily,” said Clark Whisenant, 13. “This project made me want to do a special research project on them for school. Avalanches are really dangerous.”
The search and rescue people had already arrived at the site. They’d brought dogs, snowmobiles, and an intimidating snow cat that moved like a tank, made strange noises, and seemed to be able to transport a number of people just about anywhere.
Before I could pull on my gloves, the Scouts were out running around with the dogs, leaping into huge snow piles and throwing snowballs at each other. “Maybe this won’t be so bad after all,” I thought, as I took a big juicy snowball right in the back of the head.
It was about a half-mile hike from the area where we left our cars into the site where the search and rescue people decided to stage the drill. Some of the Scouts walked, carrying the shovels and other equipment they’d brought along. Some went ahead on snowmobiles to prepare the site. As for me, I decided to ride the snow cat in. The dogs were riding in on it, and I wanted them to get acquainted with my scent so it wouldn’t take them long to find me when it came time for the rescue.
Once we got to the site, everyone went to work. The area was large and flat, with snow piled deep. They had been careful to select an area that really would be free of avalanche danger. The first order of the day was testing the snow, cutting a big, vertical block of it and looking at the layers for instability. If the boys were just out for a normal day of cross-country skiing, this would have determined where or if they would go in that area.
Next, they had to make the area look as if an avalanche had just occurred. That meant smearing injury makeup all over some faces, partially burying some people, and digging snow caves in which to bury others.
“It’s kind of fun to have injury makeup on your face and then be buried in the snow up to your shoulders,” said Andy Brinton. Now that’s an attitude for you! Since I was one of the lucky others who would be buried completely, I’d have to see if I could start thinking like Andy.
I’ll say this for the Scouts. All that snow camping they do every winter pays off. They dug me a snow cave about six-feet deep that was actually rather comfortable—just big enough for me to lie in. I crawled in, and then they handed me a walkie-talkie “just in case.” “Just in case of WHAT?” I wanted to ask. But they had already started filling in the entrance with snow blocks, followed by loose snow.
Now, it’s really not that bad in a snow cave. The natural insulation keeps you pretty warm. And since the snow usually has a density of 40–60 percent, there’s plenty of air. Still, I was depending on Dan to keep his promise that Hoover would have me out of there in 20 minutes at the most.
Dan O’Conner of American Search Dogs, Inc., whose dog Anderl would sniff out some of the other boys, explained to us that a dog could pick up a scent after a person has been buried only a few minutes. “The dog thinks, ‘I can smell the person, but I can’t see him, so I’d better go find him.’ That’s the name of the game.”
It wasn’t long before I heard feet crunching in the snow above me, and muffled voices talking in an excited tone. Soon I could hear frenzied digging, and then I saw the welcome sight of a pair of brown paws, then a black nose, breaking through the ceiling of my snow cave. In no time Hoover was all over me, licking my face and playing tug-of-war with my glove. He was just as happy to see me as I was to see him. He’d won the game. He scooted back up to the surface where the others were waiting, my glove in his mouth, proving that he’d found me. The others congratulated him, then helped me up and out.
What I saw when I got to the surface fascinated me. With remarkable precision, the Scouts and rescue people had organized themselves so that almost every inch of the avalanche area was being covered. The scenario was that a group of Scouts had been in the area when an avalanche occurred.
In one area, the avalanche “witnesses” were being interviewed, and the “injured” victims were being treated nearby. Another part of the area was being swept by people bearing electronic devices that would pick up signals from the transceivers that the Scouts might have been wearing at the a time of the disaster. In still another area, they’d organized a probe pole line, in which the members sank long, thin metal poles into the deep snow every foot or so, waiting for someone to sound the ominous cry, “I’ve got a hit,” if they struck something.
“I’d never been in a probe line, or anything like that, and it was really interesting,” said Joseph Mecham. “If there really was an avalanche, like at a ski resort, and you were a bystander, chances are they’d recruit you to help in the probe line if you knew what you were doing.”
When all the “victims” had been found, we gathered back at the snow cat to go over what we’d learned that day. The Scouts had been shown how to avoid avalanche-prone areas, how to be safer in winter sports, and how to assist search and rescue units if they need help when an avalanche occurs. The dogs had learned a lot too—it always helps them to sharpen their tracking skills and to be around groups of people in a rescue situation.
I’d learned all of the above, plus I’d gained a little confidence, knowing that I could handle some rather severe winter conditions.
But even with our newfound knowledge and skill, we agreed with Hoover when Dan asked him what it’s like to be caught in an avalanche.
“Rough!” Hoover responded. Or maybe that was “Ruff.”

One day during home evening, my mom was talking about the Holy Ghost. She said that often the Holy Ghost speaks by giving you a thought in your mind.
When she said that, I was so surprised. Just earlier, I had prayed and asked my Heavenly Father to help me hear the Holy Ghost. But I didn’t know that the Holy Ghost could speak to me in my mind like that. All my life I’d had thoughts that guided me to choose the right. Now I knew that those thoughts came from the Holy Ghost!
Since then, I have noticed the Holy Ghost a lot more. Just last Sunday, we were having home evening again. This time it was about testimonies. I didn’t really know what a testimony was, so I asked my dad. He told me that a testimony is something you know or believe to be true. He said we get our testimonies from the Holy Ghost. I then thought of how I started noticing the Holy Ghost more, and BOOM! I also had a testimony!
Knowing this makes me feel much happier. I want to be a better follower of Jesus Christ and always listen to the Holy Ghost.
Illustration by Brenna Vaughan

Lyle Chamberlain, 17, of Oak City, Utah, has a special friend. Her name is Iris. She’s a little on the short and stocky side, but her brain works just like a computer. She likes to run around, but she gets into trouble if there are stairs.
Iris is Lyle’s robot, something Lyle has been working toward nearly all his life.
Lyle has always wanted to build a robot. When he was a five-year-old, in kindergarten, he saw a television show about prosthetics—artificial limbs. From that moment on, Lyle wanted to build something that would move and think on its own. He tried putting a tape recorder in a cardboard box. But it wasn’t good enough. It wasn’t really a robot.
In second grade, when Lyle was playing at his friend’s house, he was introduced to an Atari computer and computer games. “When I told my dad how neat it was and that we should get games like that for our computer, he told me, jokingly, ‘People make those games. Why don’t you make your own?’”
Lyle remembers, even at age seven, being impressed. “It hadn’t occurred to me. Grandpa had given us an old computer, and there were these college programming books with it. I pulled all those out and started looking through them and started typing in program listings. I was amazed. The computer was doing what I told it to do.”
At that young age, Lyle started teaching himself to program. Shortly after, Lyle wrote a program for a game called Maze Craze. “It has a stick man running through a maze. The stick man painted everywhere he had been. You couldn’t get back because it was poison paint, and the walls would shock you if you touched them. If you stayed in one place too long, you died. It was way too hard. I couldn’t play it.”
Little by little Lyle was finding ways to teach himself the things he needed to learn. He struggled to glean information from books that were way above his level. His dad would bring books home for him. And he would try to imitate things he saw others had done. “I didn’t know you have to go through college and work for years and years. I think being naive helped me because I was looking at it as if these men were playing around too.”
His mother and dad, Lisa and Chuck, couldn’t help a great deal. They freely admit to being computer illiterate. Plus taking care of Lyle and his two sisters and four brothers occupied all their time.
Lisa says, “When Lyle would try to explain something he was working on, all I could say was, ‘That’s nice, dear.’” But, over the years, she helped Lyle overcome obstacles like finding ways to enter the regional science fair when his school didn’t hold a local fair.
Lyle still wanted a robot. “My parents wouldn’t buy me one. They wouldn’t buy one of those toys. I would have all these ideas, and Dad would say, ‘Write the plans down first.’” And he found ways for Lyle to earn money while they were building their house. “I dug fence post holes, hodded brick, planted trees, did stuff like that. Dad said, ‘I’ve got to hire somebody; I might as well hire you.’”
Then, while on a river running trip with his Scout troop, Lyle walked into a convenience store late at night and saw a magazine on the rack that had the headline “Build Your Own Robot.” “I bought it and read it all the way through while everyone slept. There were things I didn’t understand at all, but that was okay. That article was my main source of information.” Looking back, Lyle comments, “Pitiful, wasn’t it?”
Lyle started building robots. At first, nothing seemed to work right because, as he later found out, he didn’t know enough. Then he needed to learn how to build things carefully. Finally, he built a robot that worked. His goal was now to make it to the international science fair. But he lost. He took third in the state competition.
“I was extremely disappointed. I stood back and said, ‘Why, what happened? There’s a reason I only took third. There is a reason that this other project beat mine.’ I looked at it for a while. I decided I could keep better records. I could have a better paper. There should be no doubt in the judges’ minds that I built this. I needed to know everything about it. I’ve got to have a better presentation.” By the time Lyle finished analyzing why he lost, he was ready to go to work again.
Lyle’s next robot took him to the international science fair. Again, he was blown away by the competition. But that was okay. Here were people like him. They didn’t sit and waste time. They would get ideas and say, Let’s do it. He came to see what it would take to win the next year.
The next year, Iris was born. Lyle said, “I thought of a lot of things, but other people had tried them and they didn’t work. I was in over my head. But I’m always in over my head. I found out that there is another way to have a robot ‘see’ other than using big, huge, complex computers. It was to simplify things. All the robot needs to recognize is one object—the floor. Anything that’s not the floor must be an obstacle.”
This time, Lyle knew what he needed to do to succeed. He kept meticulous records. He perfected his presentation. And he made sure Iris was working at her best. He knew his information backward and forward.
While at the international competition in Louisville, Kentucky, disaster struck. Iris’s eye—the digital camera—was damaged in shipping. An hour before his presentation, Lyle had the camera apart, working on it. “As soon as something goes wrong, especially at the science fair, there is no time for sitting back and wondering. You have to do something and do it now. No sense getting angry. It’s a waste of time. When the eye broke, I started diagnosing it. How am I going to fix it? How am I going to change my display? That’s one thing my dad teaches. You can’t be a victim. It’s up to you to make sure things are going right for you. Is your teacher a jerk? It doesn’t matter. It’s up to you to get a grade. You can’t leave it up to somebody else or put the blame on somebody else.”
Lyle goes on, “In my high school, there is no science fair. So I found a teacher to sign the papers. There is no mentor. But there are books. You are never stuck. There’s always something you can try as long as you’re willing to work hard.”
This time Lyle and Iris took some honors. He won the prestigious U.S. Army Gold Medal for Science and Engineering. And he took second prize in the fair’s engineering division.
All those times when Lyle didn’t win, he was disappointed for a while. Then he started figuring out what he needed to do to improve. “When I’d lose, I’d say, ‘Now I know how bad I did,’” explained Lyle. “Now I know what I’ve got to do. What am I going to do different?”
So robots must be the most important things in Lyle’s life? Not even close. “Family for me is the biggest, most important thing in my life. It wasn’t always like that. But it’s my family, specifically my parents and extended family, that keep me centered.”
Lyle says he is not the kind of person who accepts things on faith very easily. “It took me a while to realize that the Spirit of the Lord is a substantial, real thing, not just a belief.”
When Lyle’s younger brother Skyler was being ordained a deacon, Lyle was gathered with his father, uncles, and cousins in a circle to help with the ordination. “I thought, What could be better than to spend eternity with these people? I would do anything for anybody in this circle. The Spirit was very strong. That’s when I started thinking, It’s real, it’s substantial, it’s God’s power, and it’s been here all along. The thing I see happening in the family, the spirit that can be there, is the most important thing to me. I’d drop robots right now if the choice was between them and my family. I’m playing with little toys that pale in comparison to that.”
Now Lyle can build robots. He has reached one of the goals he has had all his life. Of course, he always wants to build another one that’s bigger and better than the last. But robots are not number one. His goals have changed, have expanded, to take in eternal things. He hasn’t got it all figured out yet, but all those years of being in a little over his head have taught him a few things: keep trying, keep working hard, keep praying, and keep learning. The answers are out there. And the most important ones come through music, through the feelings of the heart, and through a still, small voice.
There are worlds to conquer, but Lyle has found that the only one that really matters is the one that starts at home and leads to eternity.

It was Saturday, and there was work to do at my law office. But as stake president, I had committed to attend a service project with our stake Relief Society sisters. The sisters would be visiting sick children and expectant mothers in the Sergio Bernales de Collique-Comas Hospital in Lima, Peru. They would lend spiritual support, as well as deliver quilts and toys they had made during the year.
As I left behind everything else I had to do and headed for the hospital, the words of the first of many scriptures I thought of that day came to me: “When saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee? And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me” (Matt. 25:39–40).
A warm, peaceful feeling flooded my heart, and I knew this would be a special experience. The Spirit also whispered to me that the Lord had called me as stake president to love and help others—especially the sick and afflicted. Throughout the day, thoughts of our Savior and His compassionate ministrations were never far from my mind. In our small way, we labored to be like Him.
When I arrived at the hospital, I was greeted by the 60 warmest hearts and the 60 warmest smiles I had ever seen. And as the Relief Society sisters entered the hospital, I watched this sad and gloomy place begin to be filled with light and joy.
“It came to pass that Jesus blessed them … , and the light of his countenance did shine upon them” (3 Ne. 19:25).
When our visit was over, I felt that each of those who had visited the hospital that day was a new person. As I saw the beautiful smiles on the sisters’ faces, I realized that when we give care and service to our fellow beings, we feel the true joy that comes from serving God.
“If ye know these things, happy are ye if ye do them” (John 13:17).

—During nine months of pre-encampment training, the troop from the Greensboro North Carolina Stake always encouraged sportsmanship during patrol competition. One patrol consistently came in last but was awarded a fourth-place trophy just the same. “We told the other patrols they had just beat the best patrol in the camp,” explained Scott Oakley, 16, of Caswell Ward. “And when we got to the encampment, that patrol placed first in two events over the entire encampment!”

During my mission in North Carolina, USA, we visited a man who seemed nice at first but then became adamant that the Book of Mormon was false. He also expressed other negative views about the Church. Our lesson just wasn’t a good one. We said a closing prayer and left.
For a time, I harbored some not-very-missionary-like feelings for this man, but eventually I forgot about him. At least until Christmas arrived.
For Christmas, some Church members had given us two large tubs of flavored popcorn. We opened the first one and started eating, but then we began thinking about the man we had visited.
As we glanced at our second tub, we remembered that this man lived by himself. We thought he might like some popcorn too, but we remembered how negative he had been. He was probably off visiting family anyway, and he wouldn’t want to see us even if he were home. Besides, this was our popcorn.
That first impression, however, wouldn’t go away. We pushed aside the excuses and decided to give him our second tub of popcorn.
After church that Sunday, we pulled up to his house and knocked on the door. I started having second thoughts, but then the door opened.
“Merry Christmas!” we said. The biggest grin came across his face, and he welcomed us inside.
“Brother, we have a gift for you,” we said. Then we gave him the large tub of popcorn. He smiled even bigger and asked us to sit on his couch. As we talked, I realized I’d rarely seen someone so happy before.
We learned that he didn’t have family nearby. He had planned to spend Christmas alone. The wrapped presents I saw under his small Christmas tree turned out to be only empty boxes wrapped for decoration.
“I didn’t think anyone cared about me,” he said. “I didn’t think I would get a present this year.”
As we left, I felt so much joy that I didn’t know how to contain it. I didn’t even like this man, but now I felt genuine love for him.