Gospel Story Finder

“I was playing with it first,” four-year-old Romero yelled as he grabbed a toy out of his little sister’s hand. Lolita started to run to their mother, so Romero angrily handed the toy back to her. The branch president and his counselors had come to visit, and Romero knew his parents would not like to be disturbed while they were talking with them.
Romero lived in the Philippines with his mother, father, and little sister, Lolita. Their home was a nipa hut his father had built from palm leaves and bamboo. The missionaries taught the gospel to his parents when Romero was just a baby. They knew that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was true, and they were baptized. They talked about the gospel at home and read the Book of Mormon together. They were a happy family.
At first, Romero’s family went to church every week. They didn’t have a car and the church was too far away to walk, so they rode in a small bus called a jeepney. But as the weeks went by, they began to forget to save extra money for the jeepney ride, so they couldn’t go to church. Some weeks they just didn’t get ready in time. After a while, they stopped going to church. They didn’t talk about the gospel in their home any more, and they didn’t read the Book of Mormon together.
Now the branch president was talking to Romero’s mother and father about the gospel. Romero heard his mother and father promising to attend church the next Sunday. But Romero was still more interested in getting the toy away from Lolita than in listening to the adults.
However, when he heard one of the visitors say “Book of Mormon,” Romero stopped playing and listened to what they were saying. He went over to a shelf and took out the Book of Mormon. He thought about some of the wonderful stories his parents had read to him from it. Romero had a good feeling as he held the Book of Mormon and remembered these things. He felt reverent. Now he didn’t want to take the toy away from Lolita. Instead, he wanted her to be happy. He wanted to sit quietly and listen to the branch president. As he listened, Romero knew he would like to go to church and to read the scriptures with his family again.

While on assignment for the Church magazines in Taiwan, I was traveling with an interpreter and a driver. Though I still had hours of work to do, my interpreter needed to leave me alone with the driver, who didn’t speak any English. There was no way I could finish my work without being able to communicate with the driver. As they discussed options, my interpreter began to laugh. He explained that the driver spoke Spanish, which he knew I had learned on my mission. The driver and I had a great time together, and I finished my work without any problem.
This was no dramatic healing or moving of a mountain. But it was divine intervention that my driver was one of the relatively few people in Taiwan who spoke Spanish.

Laie was chosen as the gathering place for the Saints in Hawaii in 1865, but it wasn't until 1921, 56 years later, that Laie was prepared for yet another vision. Elder David O. Mckay, an apostle at the time, looking onto a flag raising ceremony at the local school said this, "As I looked at that motley group of youngsters, and realized how far apart their parents are in hopes, aspirations, and ideals, ... my bosom swelled with emotion and tears came to my eyes, and I felt like bowing in prayer and thanksgiving for the glorious country which is doing so much for all these nationalities. But more than that, when I realize that these same boys and girls have the opportunity of participating in all the blessings of the Gospel which will transform the American into a real citizen of the Kingdom of God, I feel to praise His name... We held short services in the school room in which all American, Hawaiian, Japanese, Chinese, Filipino participated as though thy had belonged to one nation, one country, one tongue. America and the Church of Christ will truly make of all nations one blood. May God hasten the day when this is accomplished." [4]

"May [Laie] from this moment forward be what thou would have it become, be what the early fathers blessed this land to become. May their vision then, and vision of these choice men who stood so valiantly by that prophecy, be realized; and to that end we again consecrate this land." [5] (Pres. David O. McKay)

With the establishment of Laie as a gathering place, the leaders of the church inspired by divine revelation decided to pursue the building of a church school. A school of higher learning that would unite the students of different nations in one purpose and one goal to build the kingdom of God on the Earth. These would not be just ordinary students, but students who could not "be bought or sold, men who [would] scorn to violate truth, genuine gold." Said Pres. David O. McKay, "That is what this school is going to produce." [6]

When I was eleven years old, my father was called to the bishopric of our ward in Idaho. Back then, the Church was small enough that members of bishoprics were invited to general conference at the Tabernacle in Salt Lake City, Utah. My parents decided that my father should go to general conference. They invited my younger brother and me to go with them.
My brother and I enjoyed the trip. We stayed at a hotel, ate at restaurants, and visited Temple Square. My father told me that if I went to the back door of the Tabernacle after conference on Sunday morning, I could see our prophet, President David O. McKay.
Sunday morning was a cool fall day. I went to the Tabernacle with my parents. I found my way to the place my father had told me to go, and as the minutes passed, I noticed other people gathering there. After conference was over, I kept on waiting and watching, hoping to see President McKay.
Suddenly he came out of the door. He smiled and waved to us. The small crowd of people began singing “We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet.” As we stood singing the hymn, a strong, warm feeling filled my being. I knew that the Spirit was telling me that David O. McKay was God’s prophet on the earth at that time.
That was not the only time I went to the back door of the Tabernacle to see the prophet. Each time, as we sang “We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet,” that strong, warm feeling returned to me.
I am grateful that when I was a child, Heavenly Father blessed me with a testimony of the living prophets. It has helped me to have confidence in what the living prophets teach. I have been able to feel Heavenly Father’s love for me as I have learned to have faith in the living prophets.

As a bishop, I have had many opportunities to work with those that have seemed to have lost that joy that we have been talking about. As a matter of fact, part of our ward boundaries includes the local jail. I have had many chances to “teach the spirits in prison”. There is one example I would like to share with you.

Let me tell you about a young lady who, even though she may have been raised in the church, made some decisions and choices which took her away from the church. She found herself with group of friends that did things that were not in keeping with the standards of the gospel. She gave in to peer pressure and soon found herself doing the same things they were.

She was arrested by the authorities and was sentenced to jail. She spent nearly 18 months without any contact from her family or friends or even the church. While she was in jail, her husband divorced her. Her son went with her ex-husband, and her daughter went to be raised with her mother. Can you imagine what it must have been like to be all alone in that kind of situation? Can you feel the loss of joy she must have experienced? You need to realize that in the jail, there’s not a lot for you to do. The atmosphere is not necessarily conducive to the spirit of the Lord. The feeling of joy does not abound there. Sometimes, when I visit, I feel the repentance process in full swing. There are many there that have realized their mistakes and are paying the price. Knowing that in order to have a fullness of joy, they need to repent for breaking those laws. There are others that feel no remorse and as soon as they are out, they will probably do the same thing all over again!

This young lady was beginning to understand what repentance was all about. She sensed the lack of joy and happiness all around her. She was willing to accept the consequences of her choices. When I was given the opportunity to meet with her and to feel of her spirit, much repentance had been made. She told me that she wasn’t even sure whether she was still a member of the church or not or if she could ever come back to the church. She did know that whether she was a member or not, she could still pray. She found herself praying for changes in her life. Her heart had softened. Even in jail, she was responding to the whisperings of the spirit. The Lord was answering her prayers, too, even though she was still having a hard time feeling the spirit.

She had been sentenced to serve out a term that included hard time in a federal prison up north, but by some divine intervention, rather than going to the State Pen, she was transferred here to do some of that time. She didn’t know exactly why the transfer was changed, but the Lord knew! It just so happens that her mother, who had been taking care of her daughter – her granddaughter – live close to this area, and they now have the opportunity of visiting her each week. Think of the great joy it must have been for her to see them both after such a long time of being alone. She mentioned how grateful she was to the Lord and His great blessing in sending her here to be with her family. I felt blessed to be able to visit her and to see some of the joy of the gospel come back into her heart. I wish I could say that she lived happily ever after and is now serving as a Relief Society President in some ward, but the story isn’t over yet. She still must pay the rest of her debt to society, but there is hope and joy that will come to her as she strives to be obedient to the commandments. That is a promise that He gives to all of us. And I have never known the Lord to ever renegotiate on His promises!

For most of my life, I considered myself an atheist. I wasn’t sure what I wanted out of life or what the point of it was, but I was happy enough.
But when I started going to college, I hit some bumps in the road. I wasn’t making the best decisions. I felt lost. A few years later, I reconnected with a few friends who were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I’d grown up with them and had always enjoyed their company, but I’d never felt like their way of living was for me.
When we caught each other up on our lives, all I saw was joy in their countenances. They had both gotten married and had kids, they had careers that were taking off, and most of all, they seemed to radiate goodness.
When I compared my life to theirs, I realized that my trajectory was way off. I was heading down a path I didn’t want to go down. I wanted life to have meaning, and I didn’t want to chase things that wouldn’t bring me happiness in the long run.
For the first time, I felt like something was missing in my life.
And I was pretty sure these friends had the missing piece.
As I started hanging out with these friends again, I realized that they weren’t finding joy and success just because they were members of the Church. But my friends’ sense of purpose in life and motivation to continue progressing was amazing. They were so loving and driven and had this endless energy. I didn’t understand what was making them live like this.
Eventually, though, I realized their zest for life came from following the basic principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ. So I started asking questions, and my friends encouraged me to learn more.
As I learned about the gospel, it was strange at first. I didn’t have any spiritual beliefs to build on, but the truths of the gospel just started to click for me. I felt like life finally had purpose.
President Russell M. Nelson recently said: “My decision to follow Jesus Christ is the most important decision I have ever made. … That choice has made all the difference! That decision has made so many other decisions easier. That decision has given me purpose and direction. It has also helped me weather the storms of life.”
I’ve felt the same as I’ve chosen to follow Jesus Christ and get baptized.
Since joining the Church, my circumstances haven’t changed a ton. I still have a lot to figure out, but my overall feelings about life are completely different than they used to be.
Learning about the Savior, knowing my divine identity, and realizing we aren’t alone on this journey has helped me feel that same sense of peace and drive that my friends always have.
I have so much trust in our Heavenly Father, and I hold on to the idea that no matter what happens, He has my back. As I keep my covenants and strive to better align with my divine identity, I know He will be with me every step of the way. And if He is with me, I have nothing to fear.
President Nelson also testified: “Entering into a covenant relationship with God binds us to Him in a way that makes everything about life easier. Please do not misunderstand me: I did not say that making covenants makes life easy. In fact, expect opposition, because the adversary does not want you to discover the power of Jesus Christ. But yoking yourself with the Savior means you have access to His strength and redeeming power.”
I think that’s what living the gospel is all about. The gospel doesn’t make life easy, but it helps us create the earthly and eternal life God wants for us.
Despite unanswered questions, fear about the future, and setbacks, I see how the gospel gives us the guidelines we need to live the best life we can.

Lydia’s birthday was coming.
“What do you want for your birthday, Lydia?” Mom asked.
Lydia thought for a few minutes. Did she want a new toy? Did she want a book to read? Then Lydia knew what she wanted the very most.
“I want to visit the temple,” Lydia said. She wanted to be with her family. She wanted to go somewhere happy. And what place was happier than the temple?
On Lydia’s birthday, Mom, Dad, Lydia, and her sisters got ready to drive to the temple. Lydia even got to invite her friend Grant.
It was a long drive. But that was OK. Lydia told jokes with Grant and her sister Lucy. She told a story to her little sisters, Eliza and Ellie.
And finally, Lydia could see the temple. They had made it!
“Look at the angel Moroni!” Lydia said. She pointed up at the temple.
As soon as she got out of the car, Lydia raced to the temple gates.
There were beautiful trees around the temple. The trees had bright orange and yellow leaves. The leaves on the ground crunched as Lydia and her family walked around the temple.
A big gust of wind blew through the trees. Lydia watched the leaves fly through the air. She ran to catch a leaf before it hit the ground. It was beautiful! She put it in her pocket.
Dad read the sign on the temple. It said, “Holiness to the Lord: The House of the Lord.”
“That means we can feel close to Jesus here,” Mom said.
Lydia felt peaceful. This was a very happy place!
As they drove away, Lydia pulled out her leaf. When she got home she would put it in her special box. That way she could always remember this wonderful day!

Growing up, I was a learn-by-doing kind of kid. Among other family chores was the twice-daily milking of our small herd of Jersey cows. We milked by hand, and, as I was the baby of the family and too small to milk, my assignment was to herd the cows in and out of the barn and then clean the milk-barn floors at the end of each milking session. It seemed as if those cows would save up all night so that they could relieve themselves on my shiny, clean floor.

Being an observant child, I noticed that before they made their green deposits, they always lifted their tails. That signal gave me the best idea. I would stand by with my large aluminum scoop shovel, and when the tail went up, the scoop went under, and I caught the prize before it had a chance to splatter all over the milk-barn floor.

My dad, seemingly amused and unimpressed by my creativity, said, “Son, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

I thought to myself, “Yeah, sure, but you don’t have to clean up this mess every day.”

So I chose to ignore him, and he allowed it. A couple of days later, after nearly total and very satisfying success, the tail went up and the scoop went under and midway through the event the cow gave a great cough. Now, at my age and stature, I had a birds-eye view of this fine part of the cow’s anatomy, and that cough sent a spray of pasty, green liquid that covered me from head to toe. I stood there mortified.

My dad came over laughing and wiped the outline of first one eye and then the other and simply said, “I told you not to do that.”

It was my first lesson of “lean not unto thine own understanding” (Proverbs 3:5). It was a lesson I would have liked to learn through obedience and trust.

The next year I had transferred to BYU-Provo and that seed of faith in Christ’s redeeming power was still in my heart, but also somewhat dormant. I was going through the motions, but some of the hunger and thirst for righteousness that had led me to walk four miles for General Conference was no longer there. I was immersed in exciting and absorbing academic pursuits and I didn’t spend much time focusing on relying on the Lord. I was not really exercising my faith. In fact, I am sad to say that my dorm room in Provo was directly across the street from the Marriot Center where devotionals were held, but I can clearly remember occasions where I lacked the faith to cross the street.

So, two years after I heard Elder Tuttle testify that only faith in the Lord Jesus Christ would allow us to survive mortality, I was increasingly weak and overwhelmed by life and the demands of school. Again, I am grateful for the faith that I did have to keep the Sabbath day holy and to fast on Fast Sunday, as well as to keep reading the scriptures daily. It was on a Sunday afternoon where I exercised my faith enough to offer a prayer for help. I told the Lord that I was overwhelmed and didn’t know what to do. And then, being a Sunday afternoon, I lay down for a nap. When I woke up a clear impression came to mind. It was a statement made by President Benson in April Conference of that year, “when you put the Lord first, everything else will fall into place or fall out of your life.”2 At that point in my life I was used to trusting in my own strength and wisdom. I really didn’t know what “putting the Lord first” would mean, but I had the faith to experiment on the word. I had the faith to start to know a reality beyond my present experience.

One thing that I immediately saw was that living by faith meant that I had to start doing the things the Lord was telling me to do. For instance, I knew that my patriarchal blessing told me to pray morning and night and that I was only praying at night before falling asleep. I also knew that President Benson was telling us that we should read the Book of Mormon every day.3 While I was reading the scriptures every day, I wasn’t reading the Book of Mormon every day. And thus the process began. I knew that I was weak and needed help. I trusted in the promise of the Lord’s prophet that things would fall into place or fall out of my life if I would put the Lord first. I acted in faith and started to nourish the seed.

Through my choice to live by faith I came to experience and know a fuller spiritual reality. As I began reading the Book of Mormon I started to learn about how people could be led by the promptings of the Holy Ghost and I started to feel those in my life. Additional ideas started to come about things I could change to put the Lord first. As I began reading the Book of Mormon daily I began to understand that the Atonement wasn’t just for those other “bad people” who weren’t keeping the commandments that I was obeying. I began to understand that I needed to repent and that I needed the Atonement. I began to understand that because of the covenants that I had made the Redemption of Christ had power to change my nature. I began to have confidence that I could do all things that the Lord required through faith on his name and his power, rather than trusting in myself.

“Good ol’ Sam!” Willie said, petting the dog before he went into the house. He found his mother and gave her the thread.
“Thank you, Willie. I’m glad you could help me. Did you find any more treasures on the way to the store?”
“Nope—but I got rid of a few!” He told his mother what he’d done with the wire, the blue shoelace with only one plastic tip missing, the brown lunch sack, the lopsided tennis ball, and the stick.
“That really is a ‘good for something’ bag!” Willie’s mother exclaimed.
“I’m going to look for more ‘good for something’ things to put in my ‘good for something’ bag,” Willie told her.
“Well”—she handed Willie an empty thread spool, then winked at him—“will you drop this into the garbage on your way out?”
“I have a better idea, Mom,” Willie said happily as he put the spool into his green velvet bag with the gold drawstring. “You just never know when it might be good for something!”

At one time, our ward needed a Gospel Doctrine teacher in Sunday School. As a bishopric we prayed and reviewed several names with the Sunday School president. But we didn’t feel a confirmation about what to do. Once again, Larry had an idea. “What about Ila Gibb?” Ila was in her 70s, but we all felt impressed that she would be a good teacher. The Sunday School president agreed.
Sister Gibb laughed when Larry and I extended the calling. “I’m old,” she said. “Just leave me on the shelf.”
When Larry replied, “Sister Gibb, how old … ,” I thought he was going to hold himself up as an example. But he didn’t. He said with kindness, “How old is the prophet?” At this time, President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) had just become the President of the Church at age 84.
“I see where you’re headed,” Ila replied. “I guess we’re never too old to serve.” And for the next three years, she served as a marvelous Gospel Doctrine teacher.

My wife and I observed with sadness and amazement as some of our friends went through the process of divorce. The first thing we felt was the fear that this would happen to us if we found ourselves facing difficult challenges in our marriage. When a serious crisis did arise in our marriage, we decided to give ourselves one last chance—but to do it in the right way. We had already been trying for some time to solve our problems by taking one another’s thoughts and feelings into consideration. Our relationship would improve temporarily, but after a time our problems always returned.
Not until we realized that the Lord needed to play a prominent role in our marriage did our marriage begin to change. We realized that we were never going to be able to work through, much less solve, our conflicts by ourselves. Putting aside our pride, we did something we hadn’t done before. We forgot our own opinions and asked the Lord what He wanted of us. Only when we included Him did our marriage start to improve—gradually and in His way and in His own due time.
It has now been several years since we knelt at the altar of the Santiago Chile Temple, and we have faced many challenges and much adversity. Looking back, we can say that everything we have gone through has been for our good. The adversity has taught us to be humble and has made us stronger. We are still learning how to put our lives in order—both of us learning to work together as equal partners in love and understanding—and the effort has been worth it.
There is no magic recipe for success in marriage. The ingredients are found, as they always have been, in the gospel of Jesus Christ. So, as a family, we have written a declaration that we use alongside the proclamation on the family issued by the First Presidency and Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.1 Our declaration, titled “Preparing to Be an Eternal Family,” begins with these words: “We, the Castro Martínez family, testify that marriage is ordained of God and that family relationships can be eternal through the Atonement of Jesus Christ if we are obedient to the laws and ordinances of the gospel.”
What follows are 17 principles that in our judgment encompass the basic gospel values that will give us the greatest chance for success in our marriage and in our family. Our list is by no means revolutionary; it includes things such as personal and family prayer, scripture study, weekly family home evenings, attendance at Sunday meetings, regular temple attendance, treating one another with love and respect, and giving service. We also realize that principles by themselves have no effect whatsoever—we have to put them into practice.
Putting aside our pride and incorporating the Lord and His will into our marriage have put us on the path to becoming an eternal family.

Aaron M., 15, Utah, USA
I helped in the special needs seminary class this year, and I was paired up with a buddy for the whole semester. I could see how much my friendship meant to him. He always smiled and was so excited when I picked him up to go to seminary. He loved going because lots of people at school made fun of special needs students, but in seminary no one did. This taught me that it is important to be kind to everyone, no matter what.

While we lived in South America, our eldest son reached the age to fill a mission. He was the first missionary to leave our little branch composed mainly of converts. The closing prayer at his farewell was offered by one of the new converts. He expressed this thought: “Heavenly Father, we have seen missionaries come. They have blessed our lives. Now we see that we must send missionaries. Help us to rear our sons to serve.”
That prayer of faith was answered. When that man’s son was nineteen, he was called to go to Italy. I received this note about him from the president of the branch where he labored.
“We have known Elder LaBuonora since he arrived six months ago. … In the short time he has been here he has baptized nine people.
“Because you knew him before, I share a little experience. We were visiting one of our sick members in the hospital. … In the ward of about twenty people, there was a three-year-old boy whose mother had abandoned him when he was born. He has had no one to love him. The child was playing in his crib and needed his nose wiped. So Elder LaBuonora wiped his nose with the tenderness of a real father, held him in his arms for a minute, kissed him, and put him gently back in bed. The expression on the child’s face was a mixture of surprise and security. We believe this young man is the greatest missionary we have seen. What a blessing he is to our mission and branch.”
It is a further evidence of faith to note that President LaBuonora, the father who prayed that they could rear their sons to serve, has since sent his second son into the mission field.

While my wife and I served in Eastern Europe, we lived in Russia. One day I spent about an hour in the Hermitage, a famous museum in St. Petersburg. Our guide said to us, “Be careful that you do not touch any of these important treasures, because the great wealth of Russia is found in the Hermitage.”
The next day was Sunday, and during sacrament meeting a young girl was confirmed a member of the Church. As I and other Melchizedek Priesthood holders stood next to her and placed our hands on her head, a thought came to me: “The wealth of Russia is not found in the Hermitage. The wealth of Russia is found in its children. As priesthood holders, we are allowed to stand close, lay our hands upon their heads, and bless the children.”

The highlight of our mission was the visit from the first members in Ukraine. We had prepared ourselves. The mission president’s wife spoke Russian, and even I learned part of one of the ordinances in Russian. These members had such a reverence for the house of the Lord. As they came and left, they bowed in humility. They were so happy they could receive their endowments, and many cried for joy and didn’t want to leave the temple.

Not long after becoming President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, President McKay announced his plan to establish the Church College in Hawaii. In 1954, he selected Reuben D. Law, the Dean of Education at BYU in Provo, to be the first president of the future Church College of Hawaii. Law organized and brought a committee to Hawaii to assess and plan the beginnings of this college. Shortly thereafter, President Law ambitiously confirmed to President McKay that classes could start in September of 1956, less than two years away. To president Law’s surprise, David O. McKay instead insisted they begin classes in September 1955, less than one year away.
President Law needed the right help to execute a Prophet’s ambitious charge.

One of his first hires was a native Hawaiian woman named Ethel Helani Whitford Almodova. Her role as the Director of registrars and admissions was critical because the school needed students fast!

In 1954 Ethel was a recent graduate from BYU in Provo and only 23 years old. However, president Law offered her a full-time faculty position to run registrars and admissions for the future La‘ie college.

Although her new job in Hawaii was exciting, David O. McKay’s ambitious mandate to start classes seven months after plunging a shovel in the ground at the dedication in February 1955 did make things challenging for Ethel’s first two months on the job. Since new student admission and enrollment needed to take place well before classes started, Ethel had to find an entire student body for the college in about two months. How could she recruit so many students in so little time to a college that only existed in concept? She got straight to it.

“On several occasions, Birdie and I flew to the neighbor islands to recruit students for school. We flew to the Big Island and landed in Kamuela where Sister Thelma Lindsey met us and took us to her home in Waimea. This was in July and we nearly froze. It was so cold there. From Waimea we went to Hilo and spent time there with the Saints. We stayed at the Mission Home. Then we were off to Puna and Kona before we flew back to Oahu. We were gone for several days. Another weekend we went to Maui, returned, and then were gone to Kauai... During our trips, we recruited several students and they joined us in Laie when the college commenced in September.”

In a short amount of time, Ethel successfully recruited over 150 students from the Hawaiian islands. These Students were so anxious and blessed to enroll in a college that was affordable, close by, and most importantly tailored specifically for them by a Prophet of God.
The College began with an opening assembly in the chapel of the Laie First Ward because that was the largest facility they had to accommodate everyone.

“True to prophetic vision, the college was now a reality and the official opening an important event in history. We were pioneers and it was exciting to be involved with The Church College. The faculty and staff were very compatible and the students were wonderful. We had 153 students that first historic year and it has continued to grow.”

You come home from school and ask your mom what’s for dinner. She tells you it’s soup and bread, and she asks you to hang up your jacket. You’re about to go out with some friends when she reminds you that you need to practice the bodhran for a while.
Have you stepped into a parallel universe? Is this some kind of weird dream? What in the world is a bodhran?
It’s all part of daily life for the Bigney brothers of Woodland Hills, Utah, because their family’s Celtic music group is a priority, and the boys have to practice.
Alex, Sam, and Simeon Bigney, ages 18, 16, and 14, respectively, make up the group Kirkmount, and though their music isn’t exactly the stuff you hear on the radio, it definitely appeals to a lot of people.
“Our music is interesting because it spans a generation gap,” says Alex. “Old people like to listen to it, but kids our age come out and think it’s really cool, too.”
Part of what makes it “cool” is that the three boys do all the music themselves. Alex plays the harp and the bones (and yes, the “bones” are exactly what they sound like they are); Sam plays the fiddle; and Simeon plays the cello and the aforementioned bodhran (pronounced “bow-run”), which is a sort of Gaelic drum.
Whatever happened to the piano, or the guitar, or even the clarinet?
“We’re not aware of any other group anywhere that has this particular arrangement of instruments,” Alex says. “But they’re all very traditional Celtic instruments.”
“Celtic,” by the way, is pronounced with a “K” sound at the beginning, and it refers primarily to the region of Ireland, Scotland, and Wales. Bagpipes are a Celtic instrument you may have heard before, and Enya is a popular Celtic musician.
Aside from the choice of instruments, Kirkmount differs even from other Celtic groups because of their music—they write most of it themselves.
“It’s not extremely common for groups to write their own music,” says Sam, who does most of the writing for Kirkmount. “Some people will write a tune or two, but not a lot.”
Sam’s first tune was called “Late Summer Aire.” He first got a taste of fame when he and his brothers attended a fiddle camp—yes, a fiddle camp—in northern California, and the whole camp wound up playing his song. After that, the boys were hooked.
What brought them to a fiddle camp in the first place? That’s where the family ties come in. The boys’ grandfather used to invite them frequently to go to a Scottish fiddling camp with him, but they always declined.
“But one year, our grandparents were going to Ukraine on a mission. We weren’t going to see them for a while, so we decided we’d better go to the camp,” says Alex. “We went and really enjoyed the music, and that’s how we got started.”
The boys’ parents, Alex and Marilyn, began hiring professional musicians to come do workshops at the Bigney home. About 20 or so have been through, and many of them have done shows with the Bigneys afterwards, the money going to help pay for expenses. (The income from Kirkmount’s two CDs helps cover costs, too.)
It’s really a family affair. Sister Bigney says her husband “knows how to critique. He critiques the boys, and he listens, and he knows enough about Celtic music to help them. He has an exceptional ear.”
What about Mom? She supports. “I took them to their lessons for quite a few years,” she says. “I’m a great expert—on paper. I’m a great appreciator of music.”
Eventually, even the boys’ younger sisters, Miriam and Falcon, will get in on the act, as they are learning to play the viola and guitar.
“It would be really great to have a whole family thing,” Sam says. “It’s not something many people do as a family.”
How strong are the family ties with the Bigneys? Well, they practice about two hours a day together on the average, but sometimes it’s as much as eight hours. And they don’t really get tired of each other.
“We have our small quarrels,” Sam says, “but I think even the music helps us to solve those and come to an understanding of each other. I think music can touch people in ways that words can’t.”
The name Kirkmount is the name of the small village in Nova Scotia where their grandfather grew up. (Their great-great-grandfather, Simeon Bigney, was one of the first members of the Church there.) The covers of their CDs are collages of old family photos. Their ancestors were Celtic and played many of the same tunes that the Bigneys play now.
“We’re carrying on a tradition,” Alex says.
And Sister Bigney adds, “It’s important for people to find out what their traditions are, and music is one of those important things that helps you understand how your ancestors felt, what they did for entertainment, all the emotions they had. Music is a language.”
Alex says, “This music helps us get closer to our grandparents. They come to many of the shows, whenever they can, and they’ve supported us all through our musical experience.”
This family is tied together so much that Sam and his grandfather are even home teaching companions.
Obviously, the group has a strong interest in genealogy and family bonds. Sam explains that one of the highlights of his musical career so far has been playing his fiddle at the graves of some of his ancestors in Nova Scotia.
Furthermore, the group’s travels have taken them to Boston, where their father lived as a youth. Simeon (whose name is pronounced like “Simon”) says seeing where his dad went to church “was a good experience,” as was spending so much quality time with his brothers.
The Bigneys’ music doesn’t have any lyrics, so it’s difficult to express any kind of particular message in a song. But their music is expressive in its own way, creating moods and feelings pretty well. The music makes you feel like you’ve been taken back in time, and taken to Ireland. And since the gospel should be part of everything we do, the Bigneys manage to tie it all together.
“We don’t say onstage ‘Yes, we’re LDS,’ but I think people know,” Alex says. “Since we come from Utah, there have been people who come up and say, ‘Are you Mormon?’”
Sam adds, “We try to set a good example for people. The music helps us realize that God gives us talents, and we hope we can use them to our best abilities and share them with other people.” The Bigneys feel they must rely on the Lord when they perform.
“As we’re playing the music, we really become aware of whether the Spirit is with us or not,” Alex says. “If we don’t have the right spirit with us, we know we don’t play as well.” As a result, the group always has a prayer before they perform.
“You have to realize where the talents are coming from,” Alex says.
But it’s not all play and no work for Kirkmount. The boys practice every day, and while they enjoy all the regular teenage boy stuff—basketball, hiking, reading, and what-not—sometimes the music has to take them away from those things. They’ve sometimes missed ward basketball games and Boy Scout campouts because they had performances.
“But our Young Men and Young Women groups are pretty supportive,” says Sam. “They’ve come to our shows before.”
And so in the end, it’s all worth it. The stronger love for their immediate family, the more powerful connection to their grandfather and distant ancestors, the satisfaction they get from using the talents God has given them to uplift others—all that makes everything worthwhile. “The music helps me to know who I am,” says Sam, “and to express myself in a way that words can’t. We want to help, not only ourselves, but other people gain a testimony as well. Music can touch hearts.”

When the full-time missionaries started teaching us, I was skeptical and my husband was contentious. We didn’t really want to hear the gospel, but they were so determined to teach us that we knew they wouldn’t give up.
One Saturday night my husband, Javier, and I attended a party that lasted late into the night. Because we were up so late, we slept in and forgot about the invitation from the missionaries to attend church with them the next day.
When we heard them knocking on our door Sunday morning, Javier and I said to each other, “Let’s pretend we’re still asleep and ignore them.”
But the missionaries kept knocking. Finally they called out, “Brother and Sister Vasquez, we know you’re there. If you don’t open the door, we might just jump over your wall and help you get ready for church!”
We knew they were joking, but we decided to get up, open the door, and pretend we hadn’t heard them. We came out rubbing our eyes as if we had just woken up. They knew we were faking it, but they didn’t say anything.
“As soon as you’re ready,” they said, “we’ll go to the chapel.”
We got ourselves and our two children ready, and off we went. At church that day we were touched by the Holy Ghost. From then on, we never missed a meeting. The day we were baptized, October 17, 1976, was the happiest day of our lives. Becoming members of the Church totally changed us.

Samantha,* a girl in my first-grade class, was kind of mean. She would step on people’s heels, yell at them, and even hit them. Nobody liked her. Nobody played with her. Sometimes other kids told lies to get her into trouble. I didn’t like her at first, either, but I always defended her when I knew someone had lied to get her in trouble.
In second grade, her desk was next to mine. She kept on being mean, so she was moved away from the other kids. I felt sorry for her and offered to help Samantha with her schoolwork. The teacher let me.
Then Samantha’s baby brother died. That’s when I learned that she has a hard life. She had lived in another state, and her father had drinking problems. When she moved, one of her cats died and another ran away. Then her two dogs died. One day in class, she started crying because she missed her baby brother. I went over to her, and I got to help her that day.
At Christmastime, I drew her name for our gift exchange. Mom and I prayed about what to give her. We gave her a small nativity set, and she really liked it. She became nicer to everyone, and soon everyone wanted to sit by her.
For Valentine Day, we gave each other the same card. We didn’t plan it that way.
She moved away at the end of second grade. That was the last time I saw her. I miss her. Sometimes I even cry a little bit. My teacher thanked me for helping Samantha and said that I had changed her life. I feel good that I chose the right.