Gospel Story Finder

“I was about eight or nine years old when I lost the sight in my right eye. But it wasn’t until I looked through binoculars that I realized I could see only through my left eye. I lost the use of that eye when I was about fourteen years old. Now I can see only the difference between light and dark.”

But having lost the ability to see with his eyes, Brother Juntratip has been able to develop the ability to see with the Spirit.

“I was in my late twenties when I first met the Latter-day Saint missionaries. They were bicycling by the house one day and saw me. They stopped and introduced themselves and asked if I had ever heard of the Church. When I said no, they told me about Joseph Smith and the First Vision.
“From what they told me, I felt that Joseph Smith was a good man who had done nothing wrong. At their suggestion, I knelt and prayed to Heavenly Father to know if what they had told me was true. When I got up from my knees, I had this soft, warm feeling down my spine.”
The elders arranged to come again, this time bringing Braille editions of the Book of Mormon and The Articles of Faith by Elder James E. Talmage—both in English.
But Pornchai says he had been prepared for this moment. His father, a bank clerk, started teaching him English when Pornchai was nine years old. When he was ten, he began working with a tutor. Later, he enrolled in a four-year high school correspondence course offered by a college for the blind in the United States. He had completed the course and received an American high school diploma shortly before the missionaries stopped to talk to him.
“When I look back on those years, I realize that everything fitted into place,” says Brother Juntratip. “Not only was I able to read the books the missionaries gave me, but I think I was also prepared spiritually to receive the gospel message.
“I grew up observing the customs of two religions. Like most Thais, I was raised a Buddhist. My parents, being of Chinese descent, would observe Chinese religious customs, such as the new-year festival, the ancestral festival, and the new-moon festival.
“But I had read of Jesus Christ, and as a small boy—a long, long time ago—I had watched movies in which the Lord was depicted, like The Ten Commandments and The Robe. And I believed in God. I told myself that there must be a God, because if there were no God, who created the universe and all the good and beautiful things in it? There had to be an omnipotent Being.”
Brother Juntratip was baptized on 6 December 1976, at the age of twenty-eight.
By then, his parents had died, but he faced opposition from his two younger brothers. “They were university-trained engineers, and their only religion was materialism. They couldn’t understand what I was doing.”
Three years later, they opposed his decision to attend Brigham Young University—Hawaii Campus. “My brothers were sure I’d fail,” recalls Brother Juntratip, “and they didn’t want the embarrassment of having to bring me home.” To try to keep him from going, his brothers took control of a piece of property his mother had left him. He had planned to sell the property to acquire money for college expenses. But his brothers said they would hold the property so that if he failed, they could sell it and use the money to bring him home.
But Brother Juntratip still went ahead with his plans and enrolled at BYU—Hawaii. He wrote to an airline company asking them to let him fly half-fare. They responded by giving him a free ticket.
Pornchai studied English literature at the university, taping the lectures and also listening to taped versions of the study text. He supported himself by transcribing oral history tapes.
He graduated in December 1983 and then entered BYU at Provo, Utah, for graduate work in English literature. “Because I did well while in college in Hawaii, my brothers let me have the money from the property sale to pay my way to Utah,” says Brother Juntratip. “I had to give so much time to my studies that I couldn’t work to support myself, but luckily I was awarded a scholarship. I received my master’s degree in June 1986 and returned to Thailand.”
For seven months after returning to Thailand, Brother Juntratip taught students in his home. Then he was offered a position as translator for the Church.
“I had been praying that I would find employment that would fit my particular circumstances, and the translation job does that. I translate seminary and institute student manuals into Thai.”
At first, Brother Juntratip hired someone to read the English text to him. He would dictate the Thai translation into a tape recorder, and the tapes would then be transcribed. These last two steps were eliminated when he taught himself to use a Thai-language typewriter. Later, he replaced the typewriter with a computer, making revisions and corrections easier. In addition, he now receives a taped version of the original English text.
Brother Juntratip met his wife, Kwanjai, a couple of years after his return from BYU. She had served a mission in Thailand.
The Juntratips were sealed in the Manila Philippines Temple in June 1990 by the temple president, Floyd Hogan, who had been Kwanjai’s mission president. Their son, Pituporn, was born in August 1991. “His name means patriarchal blessing,” explains Brother Juntratip. “We hope he grows up to be a good missionary like his mother.
“I remember that when the missionaries presented the discussions to me, I felt the gospel message they taught me was true, was good,” he says. “By striving to live my life according to the gospel, I have come to know for a certainty that it is true and it is good.”

Christmas that year was a memorable one. I took the bus to Saigon, where the members met together for the first time in ten years in Viet Nam. The meeting was in a park. There were nearly one hundred people there. We had ice cream and cake. Later, at our table, brethren holding the priesthood broke bread and poured water into small glasses for the sacrament. We bowed our heads and prayed silently. Our joy was full.

One day, as I was traveling on a plane to New England, I entered into a conversation with a young stewardess sitting in the seat next to me. Most members of our Church know how to steer a conversation toward the gospel, and, before long, we were talking about religion. She told me that she had recently been converted from her former manner of living and was now “saved.” I congratulated her. Then she added that she was now a “born-again Christian.”
I asked her how she was born again, and she told me that she had accepted Jesus Christ as her personal Savior and now believed in him. I told her how wonderful that was, but explained that acceptance of and belief in Jesus Christ is normally called faith. She said, “But I have changed my former way of thinking and living. I am now on the path to eternal life.” Again I congratulated her and told her that change is normally called repentance. “But,” she said, “I have felt a marvelous spiritual change come over me which has purged all evil from my soul.” I then asked her if this were not a gift from the Holy Ghost. “I suppose it is,” she admitted, “but I mean I’ve had a sanctification experience, not through any work that I or any other person has done for me, but a work of grace whereby Jesus has pardoned my sins and promised me eternal life. I don’t need any formal church organization to accomplish this. A person needs only that wonderful, spiritual experience, or feeling of grace.” She added that she had truly been reborn spiritually. From her words, I knew she did not understand what is meant by being “born again” nor what is termed the second birth.
I have observed that few people who profess to be Christians—even many within The Church of Jesus Christ—really understand some of the most basic principles of the gospel. Today I want to teach you a little about one of these basic principles or what it actually means to be “born again.”
...
I only wish I had been able to teach these principles to that stewardess before our plane landed and we were separated. Perhaps, though, I sowed a seed which will someday sprout and grow when a missionary later on contacts her and has an opportunity to explain the true meaning of being a “born-again Christian.”

The El Centro California Stake hosted a regional Young Adult conference stressing the theme “Ye Shall Find Me.” With the whole desert as a backdrop, the young people got together for some fun on the sandy hills. They enjoyed exploring; playing volleyball, football, and frisbee; as well as trying an impromptu game of golf in one big sand trap.
The group met at the stake center for a series of workshops and a devotional. The workshops stressed such topics as coming to know Christ through service, learning to communicate, teaching children, and learning more about their own potential.
The workshops were followed by an evening of square dancing with the local police chief calling the dance. They feasted on Mexican food and used up their excess energy.
The conference concluded with Relief Society and Priesthood meetings and a testimony meeting in which many of the young adults talked about their testimonies and the importance of the youth programs in their lives.

I frequently found myself returning home from a busy day’s work, still under great pressures to complete an assignment before the following morning, only to find I had been committed to an act of compassionate service that night. As we would drive to our place of service, I would be mumbling under my breath, “Why me tonight? How will I ever get that job done before morning?” Then we would arrive at the place of service, and I would see the light in her eyes as she would perform her acts of mercy. I would see children dance with joy and parents weep with gratitude for her concern. On the way home I was mumbling a different tune. I was thanking the Lord for the privilege of being there that particular night.

Until her junior year of high school, Brittany R. of New Mexico, USA, seemed to have the life of a typical teenager—playing in the high school band, surviving classes, and planning life after graduation. But things didn’t work out the way she imagined.
During her junior year of high school, Brittany came down with flu-like symptoms that—after many hospital stays and tests—eventually led doctors to diagnose her with a rare disease that paralyzed her digestive tract. Eating normal food was no longer an option. Ever since, she’s had to stay in the hospital for months at a time for various surgeries and procedures, and now she eats through specially prepared tubes she keeps in a backpack.
Brittany has chosen to reach outward instead of focusing on her problems. “The more that you [focus] on yourself, the more likely you are to fall into a rut and feel sorry for yourself,” Brittany says. “Reaching out to others, you really forget your own problems.” She adds, “I’m able to see the joy on the faces of those I’m helping, along with the confirmation of the Spirit letting me know that what I’m doing is good.”

“Okay, I’m going to need your full name for these records. Last name?”
“Trent,” I answered, sounding a little cocky. I was proud of my last name. I had ancestors involved in all sorts of historical events. James Trent was one of the first men to found Virginia; there was the Council of Trent that reformed the Catholic Church; and there’s also a street in England bearing my last name. Trent. What a great name, I thought to myself as the secretary typed it.
“First name.”
“Jared,” I answered with even more pride. I had created a name for myself at school. I was the crazy kid, or—my personal favorite—“Ask Jared, he can answer anything.” I wondered if the secretary knew how wonderful my name was. She was, after all, typing it in bold print.
“Middle name.”
“M,” I answered as if the question wasn’t even worth an answer.
“Come on now, Jared. I need to know your middle name, not just your initial.”
Now was the hard part, disclosing my middle name. She wasn’t going to buy my middle initial trick. I was trapped.
“Moroni,” I said quietly.
“Could you spell that for me.”
“M-O-R-O-N-I.” I was growing uneasy.
“Hmm, that’s an interesting middle name. Is it Italian?”
“No, it’s a religious name.”
“Odd, I don’t remember ever reading about any Moroni in the Bible. At any rate, let’s finish this so you can start work.”
I didn’t know then why I was embarrassed by the name. It just seemed so odd to me. No one I knew, not even any of the people in my ward, had a name from the Book of Mormon. I remember once receiving a letter addressed to Jared Moron Trent. One slip of the computer, leaving off the last letter, and I was Moron.
Then, one day in seminary, my teacher asked us if we had ever read about Captain Moroni. I knew who the Angel Moroni is—the one whose statue stands on top of the temples. But I had never read the Book of Mormon, and so I had never heard of this captain guy. All I knew was that he shared my name. Then my teacher told us about the bravery and brilliance of Captain Moroni. He had invented armor for his soldiers at a time when armor wasn’t heard of. He protected entire cities and used military techniques far more advanced than some used today. He was a genius. I kept reading.
The next day my teacher asked the class if anyone knew what my middle name was. Most didn’t because I hadn’t told many people. Then she asked me to tell the class. After I did she explained that my parents had named me with an unusual name to help them share the gospel. In Saudi Arabia, where I was born, it is illegal to discuss other religions unless people ask about them. So my parents had named me, hoping that people would question the origin of my name and that would lead them to discuss the Church. I was completely surprised. I hadn’t known I had been a missionary when I was born. I was not only named after a great general, but the angel that helped to restore the gospel.
I no longer wanted to hide my middle name. I realized that the importance and nobility of it far surpassed my first and last names. I say it now with pride, explaining to people the origin of it, and why it’s such a wonderful name. I no longer think of it as one letter away from meaning idiot, but as one step away from achieving celestial glory, as the two Moronis of old did. I only hope that I might live up to its greatness.

In conclusion, let me tell you about a personal planning cycle I developed about the time that I was ending my formal education, with the hope that it will cause you to seriously reflect and plan the future. I was a little older than most when I graduated form college; a mission and World War II had slowed the process. I graduated from college just a few months before my twenty-seventh birthday. I was married, and the first child was on its way. Family responsibility has a special way of bringing a maturing process. I decided if I was to accomplish my life’s objective I needed to form a plan and review my performance regularly against the determined plan. My decision was that I would hold an annual review on each of my birthdays to evaluate my progress. On my twenty-seventh birthday my first plan was prepared. On my twenty-eighth birthday I made my first annual performance evaluation and plan revision. This I have carried out each year until the present. The plan includes the same ingredients we have discussed here tonight. First, a physical plan: it is near my birthday each year that I go to the doctor and have an annual physical examination. My plan includes some established goals for an active and restive pulse rate, a blood pressure reading, and a weight range. Annually I check my performance in my physical plan.

My physical plan also includes a financial plan. I wanted to have thirty years of accumulation where I could become financially independent. My plan at the end of those thirty years was to be in a position where I could call the shots, be flexible, do what I wanted to accomplish. I would be able to fill a second mission, or to devote my time to community service or education. Each year I would prepare a personal balance sheet to evaluate my progress toward achieving this objective.

Second, I would evaluate my relationships with my wife, my children, my friends, and my business associates. I was continually asking the question, “What kind of an influence in the world am I for teaching righteous principles?” I wanted to be balanced socially and emotionally.

Third, I established a study program to improve my mind. I would mark a calendar each year with my study objectives of how many chapters I would read each day in a 365-day year. I am afraid that in my early years I was moving too much toward the objectives of my professional life. Now my program has changed, because I have discovered the great value of the scriptures. My program now is to read two chapters in the scriptures first thing every morning. By so doing I can cover the Book of Mormon, the Pearl of Great Price, the Doctrine and Covenants, and the New Testament each year.

Fourth, each year I gave myself a very careful temple worthiness interview. I would ask myself the questions, “Am I morally clean?” “Do I live the Word of Wisdom?” “Am I honest in paying my tithes and offerings?” “Am I regular in my attendance at my priesthood and sacrament meetings?” “Am I keeping my life in harmony with the principles of the gospel?” “Do I sustain my stake president?” “Do I sustain the prophet of the Lord?” “Is my testimony of the Lord and Savior vital, alive, and an active force in my life?” This process has had me focusing in a special way each year on what I wanted to accomplish within the time allotted to me in my mortal experience. Each year I would feel the thrill of accomplishment, but more strongly the determination to do better.

It’s Saturday! You’ve been looking forward to today all week long. You and some friends have big plans to go mountain biking. However, despite the sunny forecast that had been predicted, it’s raining buckets outside. What do you do?

Go back to bed and pull the covers over your head. Life’s not fair!

Contact your friends and see if they’d be up for something different. They now want to go roller-skating, but you’ve never tried that before. It sounds kind of boring. What do you do?

Tell them no thanks. Spend the rest of the day complaining about the weather.

You head to the roller rink, and skating is actually kind of fun. You’re about to go home when your cell phone buzzes. Your ward needs help with a last-minute service project to help a family moving to the area. Can you come?

You’d rather not. Normally you like service projects, but your plans were already thrown out of whack today. You turn down the offer and head home.

Sure thing. You spend the next hour helping the family unload their moving truck. You notice the teenager in the family has hardly said 10 words the whole time you were there. He seems kind of shy. What do you do?

While you know it can’t be easy moving to a new area, you could really use some time to just relax. You say good-bye and spend the rest of the night watching a movie on your own.

You invite the new guy over to shoot some hoops. You plan on it being a quick visit, but you soon realize he’s pretty cool once you get to know him. You spend the next two hours talking while you play ball.

“So, how was your day?” What’s your answer?

“Today was GREAT!”

“PRETTY GOOD, overall.”

“It was OK. Could have been better.”

“LOUSY. Worst Saturday ever.”

In the famous movie The African Queen, two refugees from World War I violence in East Africa are trying to reach the relative safety of Lake Victoria. After surviving many near disasters, their boat, The African Queen, is stranded in a marsh. Unable to tell which way the current is flowing and surrounded by high growth, the two refugees become disoriented and discouraged. At the end of their energy and faith, they are about to give up and die.
Then, in a moment of high drama, the camera through which we are viewing their peril rises, and with new perspective we see their true location. Out of sight to them, but just a few meters away, are the long-sought liberating waters of Lake Victoria.

Five years ago, I took two of my sons back to Tonga for a visit. While there, we decided to fly to the island of Vavau to visit my brother. On the way back to the main island, we decided to take the boat for "sight-seeing." It took us 16 long hours to get back, for we had to drop off and pick up people along the way, especially from Haapai group. As we got to Nomuka Island, two men couldn't wait for the small boat to pick them up. There was no dock or harbor, so they jumped off our boat and swam ashore. An old and wise man turned to me and said, "This is what I call tuku e vaka kae fai e kakau", a Tongan proverb that says - according to Brother Hafoka's version - "Forget the boat & swim". So I wondered, "Why would someone leave the safety of the boat to swim? The boat was perfectly fine; there was no fire onboard or anything. Though they could swim faster than the little boat, the little boat was still safer. So why would we leave the safety of the boat and swim?" Why would we try to find our own way and struggle, and suffer, and may not make it when the Savior said, "I am the way..."?

When school started, Dian did not care for learning to read as much as she enjoyed going with her father or working on her projects. Reading just wasn’t interesting for her. Reading was a burden all through grade school, and her opinion of herself began to suffer because of it.
“Because I wasn’t good at reading, I let that affect my self-image,” said Dian. “I was probably more creative than most kids, mainly because I spent so much time figuring out how to make things work. I think the worst thing I did was consider myself inadequate in school because I couldn’t read or spell very well. I let that penetrate into my self-esteem. I let it affect other areas of my life which I shouldn’t have done.”
When Dian reached seventh grade, her family moved to Salt Lake City. Having been raised in the country, Dian had to adjust to life in a city. She was still having problems in school, but she was determined to make friends and be successful in her new home.
“I was put in a remedial reading group. I watched my friends and could see that they could read well. I just didn’t know why I couldn’t, but I didn’t give up. I just kept plodding. I figured out ways to get through my classes. I would study with friends, and I worked on ways to help myself. I found it really helped to write things on a blackboard and go over and over them. I did a lot of things other kids didn’t have to do. There were times I really got discouraged and wanted to quit, but I just didn’t.”
When it came time to go to girls’ camp, Dian found an area in which she was skilled and had things to teach others. She taught fun ways to cook over a fire and efficient ways of setting up camp. Little did she know that doing this thing that she loved would become her profession.
One event that sticks out in Dian’s mind took place in the tenth grade. Aptitude tests were given, and based on the results, counselors advised the students on the areas they should stress to prepare for college or a job. When Dian talked to the counselor, it was a disappointment. “They suggested that I would probably have trouble with college. I remember my scores. In reading skills, I was low. But in logic and reasoning, I was in the 98th percentile. In one area I felt like a failure, but in another I was so skilled. When he told me not to go to college, I didn’t even consider it. I said I am going to college. They can measure a skill at certain levels, but nobody can measure determination. I learned that everyone has an area in which he feels inadequate.”
What made Dian so determined to do her best? She remembers specifically as a teenager hearing a radio talk given by President David O. McKay, who was president of the Church at that time. “I remember him saying that we only have one life to live, and we have to do the best we can with this life. I remember thinking, ‘If I only have one life to live, then I have to be the best I can be. It doesn’t matter what everyone else can do; I can’t give up.’”
With a realistic grasp of her limitations, Dian entered college and signed up for remedial help in reading. “I was tested, and my reading speed was slow. The lady who tested me said I probably wouldn’t make it through college. I remember walking out of there feeling frustrated. I thought, ‘Nobody can tell other people what they can do and what they can’t.’”
It was hard. It was discouraging. Dian charted a course of college study that took advantage of her creative skills and did not require an exorbitant amount of reading. She studied home economics hoping to become a teacher. She often had to work twice as hard as other students to complete papers and read assignments. Her parents helped in every way they could. Sometimes they would drive to Provo for the weekend and read Dian’s assignments with her. Yet Dian’s research and teaching projects showed her creativity and innovation. In moments of discouragement, this thought kept coming back to her, “You only have one life. You’ve got to be the best person you can be.”
Dian loved doing things. “If I saw an idea I liked, I’d go home and do it. It became part of me. I slowly built up a repertoire of things I could do. A creative idea is often just putting two things together to make a new thing. It’s often just a twist on something else.” It is this ability to do things in a new way that is Dian’s real talent. And she loved sharing them with others. She is a natural teacher and has charm that reaches beyond the camera.
For her master’s thesis, she organized and wrote a curriculum guide to teach outdoor skills. This became the basis for her national best-selling book, Roughing It Easy. But getting the book published was also an exercise in perseverance. She approached BYU Press to take on the job, but they turned it down. She kept working with an editor until the press reconsidered the project and agreed to publish the book. To promote the sale of her book, she started a series of lectures combined with local television, newspaper, and radio interviews. She prepared herself to go after opportunities. She made proposals to companies about how she could help them with product promotion. She became a favorite of the television talk show circuit not only because of what she talked about but by the force of her personality. Now she is a popular lecturer crisscrossing the nation regularly, talking to businessmen in Alaska one week and a group of teachers in Pennsylvania the next. She attributes her success to preparation. “I would watch for opportunities and be prepared. Sometimes I’ll think and work on a proposal for months before approaching a company.”
Where does Dian get her ideas? Since reading is not the best way for her to do research, she learns by talking to people. Whenever she travels, she strikes up a conversation with the person in the seat next to her. Whenever she’s standing in line, she talks to those around her. If she’s working on new party ideas, she’ll let that guide her conversation with strangers. She’ll ask, “What was the best party you’ve ever been to?” That not only gets the conversation going, it helps Dian learn about new ideas from which she can develop her own unique variations. “I can’t tell you how rewarding just talking to people will be. Everyone likes to talk about themselves, and I am genuinely interested.”
Even though Dian can tell you how to make an outdoor grill out of a tin can or how to take a shower under an umbrella, some of the ideas that still amaze her audiences are the ones she learned a long time ago. One of her favorites is boiling water in a paper cup. “I love to do things that stretch people’s imaginations,” says Dian. “At first they say you can’t boil water in a paper cup. But you can. When water in a paper cup is placed directly in a fire, the water keeps the paper below the combustion point.”
Another favorite idea is starting a fire with double O steel wool and batteries. If two batteries are held end to end and steel wool is stretched to make the connection on both ends, it causes a spark capable of starting a fire in shaved kindling.
Dian also likes to cook eggs and bacon in a paper sack. In fact, this skill was the one she demonstrated to Johnny Carson on his late night television talk show. Based on her appearance on that show, she received dozens of invitations to talk, essentially initiating her nationwide popularity.
Growing up, Dian learned a lot about not letting other people’s opinions of her abilities influence what she did. Every time she met an obstacle to her learning or development, she put her talent of figuring things out to work. She would watch and listen until she found a way to succeed.
“If only people would just prepare themselves to succeed,” Dian wishes. “It’s their lives, if they would just do something with them. They are the captains of their ships. Sometimes people don’t realize their own value. I think the Church teaches us so beautifully that each of us is someone special.”
Discouraging times come to everyone, and Dian has had her share. She has learned of ways to deal with those “down” times. “When I was going to school, I didn’t bury myself. I had trouble in one area, but I was succeeding in another. To cheer myself up, I would get out of where I was and get with people. That is the biggest solution to life. When you are discouraged, get out of the environment you’re in and go help somebody. When you come back, you can face your problems a little better.”
Now it seems ironic that a little girl who didn’t read very well is the author of nationally best-selling books. Dian Thomas worked on her enormous creative talents instead of being stymied by what she couldn’t do as well. “Instead of saying I can’t do it, I learned to say, how can I do it.” Succeeding as a writer and lecturer defied what some people believed about her. Her success is just like boiling water in the paper cup: people say it can’t be done, but it can. Dian discovered the combustion point of her talent.

Let me tell you an experience of the girl who later became my wife. At one time she was a member of a stake Sunday School board. As such, it was her responsibility to instruct teachers in a union meeting class. The lesson for a particular session was the Prophet’s vision of the Father and the Son. She was aware that in the class there would be a graduate from the University of Idaho who was not a Latter-day Saint and who did not believe the gospel. It occurred to her that the account of the Father and the Son’s coming to the Prophet Joseph Smith would not be accepted by this educated, refined, and lovely woman. Thinking about it, she became greatly disturbed. She was not sure that she herself knew it was true. She was so distraught that she sought out her mother. Weeping she said, “Mother, I can’t give that lesson. I don’t know that Joseph Smith had that vision. That woman will laugh at me and ridicule me.”
Her mother was not an educated woman, but she did have a testimony. She said to her daughter, “You know how the Prophet got the vision, don’t you?”
“Yes,” answered her daughter, “he got it by praying to God for wisdom.”
“Why don’t you try that?” said the mother to her daughter.
The daughter went to her room and tried it; she “wrestled” with God, as did Enos. The result was that she went to that union meeting and gave the lesson convincingly, with power beyond her natural abilities. How could she do it? Well, the Holy Spirit came to her in response to her inquiry. She received a burning within her soul. She knew that Joseph Smith had seen the vision, as well as he knew it. She had not seen exactly the same things with her eyes that the Prophet saw, but she had the same knowledge. She knew from Joseph Smith’s description what he had seen, and she had a witness from the Holy Ghost that his account was true.

“I don’t know, but I know He does. I remember reading a story several years ago in a Church magazine. It was a true story about a little sparrow that flew into the Salt Lake Tabernacle while the doors were open.”*

“You mean that big building on Temple Square where they hold general conference?”

Dad nodded. “The building was empty when the bird flew in, so the workers at the Tabernacle opened all the doors, hoping the bird would fly out.”

“Did it?”

“No. They tried calling for help, and some city workers brought some nets with very long handles so they could try to catch the bird.”

Beth remembered seeing a photograph of the inside of the Tabernacle. The ceiling looked very high. The handles on those nets must have been very, very, very long!

Dad continued. “The people ran from one end of the Tabernacle to the other trying to catch the bird, but that just frightened the poor thing. Terrified, it flew back and forth from the pipe organ to the balcony. The people who worked in the Tabernacle were getting worried. An important concert was scheduled for that evening, and they were running out of time. They had to get the bird out.”

“What did they do?” Beth whispered.

“The city workers couldn’t think of anything else, so they suggested that they use a pellet gun to shoot the bird.”

“Oh, no!” Beth was worried.

“Or they thought about putting out some poisoned food that the bird would eat.”

“Oh, Daddy, they didn’t, did they?”

“Well,” Dad continued, “the manager of the Tabernacle wouldn’t let them hurt the bird. He thought about how important this little bird was to Heavenly Father. He knew Heavenly Father would know how to take care of the bird, so he turned around and said a quiet, simple prayer. Right away the Holy Ghost helped him know what to do. He quickly gave instructions to the other workers to turn off all the lights, close the blinds, and shut all but one of the doors. Soon the only light coming into the Tabernacle was coming through that one single door. Seeing the light, the bird flew toward it and was finally able to find its freedom. Out it flew, safe at last.”

“I’m glad Heavenly Father helped the bird.”

A Church member in Texas, USA, shared this experience:
“During Relief Society one day, a sister I had never seen in church before shared how she felt like women in Relief Society were hypocritical and exclusive. After the meeting, she left so fast I couldn’t catch her.
“After church, I went to her home. I introduced myself and said I appreciated her comments in Relief Society and wanted to hear more about her concerns. She talked, and I listened. I expressed my love for her and her family and asked if I could visit her again.
“I took the assignment to serve as her visiting teacher. Over time, as I came to understand her concerns better, we began talking about her doctrinal questions. Her children started coming to church. Then she started coming with them. I admire her courage and perseverance. She has become one of my dearest friends.”

Three days after my father graduated from high school in 1944, he reported for the Navy. He became a chief petty officer and received his assignment to AO-96, the U.S.S. Tamalpais. The ship sailed across the Pacific, delivering water to famous places like Eniwetok, Leyte, and Ulithi. The Tamalpais received a call into Tokyo Bay in the summer of 1945, so Dad witnessed the end of the war—an iconic moment of the 20th century.[1]
In my office, I display a silk Japanese flag Dad brought from Japan. It’s a joy because I later served my mission there among a wonderful people my dad had never said anything bad about. But I prize this brown and black volume the most of Dad’s things—his military copy of the Book of Mormon. I raise it sometimes when I attend devotional.
Dad eventually started a small business and reared five children. To relieve stress, we’d go to the mountains, including Yellowstone. There, Dad sometimes opened the scriptures. Under the gentle lights, we’d read the Book of Mormon. I don’t remember much of what we read, but I remember what I felt: a quiet assurance of the truth of this book. So, when Dad died the day after Christmas when I was 10, those memories’ importance grew. I thank God that Dad found a way to somehow teach me to love the Book of Mormon.

Is it true that “with God nothing shall be impossible”? (Luke 1:37). José Javier Alarcón, 16, of Maracaibo, has tested this scriptural promise.
“When I was eight or nine years old, my parents divorced. Later a friend invited me to church, and eventually I wanted to be baptized. But my mother, who had been baptized but hadn’t been active for many years, wouldn’t let me. When I was 12, she finally allowed me to be baptized. As I grew in the gospel, I started to pray that my mom would come back to the Church. A couple of years later, she did!”
José Javier’s mother, Miriam, admits that she had been apart from the Church for eight years and “didn’t ever intend to come back. But when my son began praying with great faith for me … something started to happen inside me. I began to feel a strong desire to pray and read the scriptures. One night the Lord changed my heart, and from that night I changed completely. So I owe it to my son. I thank the Father for giving me such a wonderful son!”
“It’s a gift from God,” says José Javier. “I had to do part of it. But it was actually God who did all of these things.”
Now José Javier, his mother, and his younger brother, Jesús David, 10, have visited the temple. José Javier has been baptized for the dead, and their mother has received her endowment.

Janet: Keeping things in perspective as it relates to dealing with discouragement affected our own relationship early on and in a very important way. When Rex and I were dating at BYU, he surprised me one night by indicating that he felt our relationship was getting serious. But I had just begun to come to terms with my own feelings, and he was way ahead of me. All of my logic told me Rex had everything I could ever want in a husband, yet I needed that bolt of lightning to strike me and say, “This is the one!” Well, it came in a very unexpected way. For one entire week my concern was that he was getting too serious. Then one evening he suggested that we should date other people again. I was stunned, but I agreed and said good night. I was not prepared for the emotion I was about to feel. As the door closed behind me, the fear of losing him was more than I could bear. I stood frozen in the dark, leaning against the door for support. The world seemed to have stopped, and I wasn’t sure that I wanted it to start again without Rex there with me. I cried as though my heart would break. How clearly now I could see the priceless gem that was almost mine, but it seemed to be slipping away from my grasp. What other girl did he have in mind when he mentioned dating “others”?
Rex: The answer is simple: I really didn’t have anybody in mind.
Janet: Yeah, right. I think he’s lying.
Rex: That’s nonsense and she knows it. She can’t give you the name of anyone else because there was no one else. Actually, I was sure she was the one, and quite frankly I can’t explain why I suggested maybe we ought to date some other people for a while. It was probably just an irrational stalling technique.
During the intervening week I felt pretty good about the new “date other people” arrangement until she actually did what I suggested we do. That next Friday night, after having been away for a few days, I
came back to town looking forward to seeing Janet. I was stunned to learn that she was actually on a date with someone else. Apparently she had recovered from a broken heart and a world that had come to an end with amazing speed. At first I felt betrayed, then angry, and then within five minutes I realized I had brought the circumstance on myself and began to worry. When her roommates told me who her date was, my worry turned to panic. I knew the guy. How would she dare go out with someone like him? He was better looking than I, had a lot more money, and a lot better car. In terms of intelligence and righteousness, we were about dead even. But he definitely had a more engaging personality. The bottom line: On a ten-point scale, he beat me by three points. Was I now to lose out on the best deal that ever came into my life? So desperately I wanted to turn the clock back seven days, because I could see much more clearly than I had one week earlier how lucky I was to have what I had previously taken for granted.
I came back the next night. She wouldn’t come out of her room. The reason, she said, was that she had washed her hair and was blowing it dry. I never could figure that one out. In the first place, I wanted to see her—whether her hair was wet or dry didn’t matter two cents worth. Moreover, I’d washed my hair before. Drying time? A minute thirty seconds max.
Janet: Yes, but don’t you remember that during those days you had a crew cut? You could dry your hair with a towel.
Rex: All right, so you had more hair. But not even Samson and Rapunzel back-to-back should have taken the whole evening. Anyway, I did what any red-blooded American boy would do. I stood outside her dorm and threw rocks at her window. But all was not lost. By the next night she was ready to talk and for some reason was willing to overlook my three-point deficit.
Janet: Through that experience Rex and I came to the realization that we had brought about our own discouragement because we had lost perspective by not appreciating what we already had.

Recently I was traveling in an airport and was concerned about making my flight because of the long lines. As I approached the ticketing area, there was an older couple in front of me slowly making their way to the same line with about a half a dozen bags. Absorbed in my hurry, I walked around them and made it to the line before they arrived. Within a few moments I felt a tap on my arm by the older woman who had come up behind me. She said, “What you just did was very rude. You cut in front of us.” I offered a quick apology and turned around a bit surprised. Rationalizations started to circle in my head: Surely they could understand that I was in a hurry to catch my flight. Certainly they should see that I would move much faster through the line with my one bag. This Good Samaritan moment was invisible to me in my hurry. Nowhere in my selfish dialogue was the thought to offer them assistance. As is the problem with nearsightedness, I was unable to perceive the needs of this couple, heavily laden with luggage. My mind rationalized that she had overreacted, but my heart testified of my thoughtless behavior. This battle of heart and mind went on for a short time but was resolved in an instant when I turned and offered to the couple to pass in front of me, which they did with appreciation. When I chose to serve them – even in a small way – my feelings of defensiveness dissolved and it appeared her feelings of offence diminished as well. Sometimes an act of service however simple can help us overcome our blindness.

The best high school cross-country runners in the western U.S. gathered in Fresno, California, recently to see who was the fastest of them all. And when the dust had settled, it was discovered that the first-, second-, and third-place winners in the freshman division were all LDS.
Jeremy Call, who came in first, had one of the fastest times ever recorded for a freshman. He’s a member of the Bountiful 27th Ward, Bountiful Utah North Stake, and loves going to seminary. He’s also into Scouting, school, and basketball.
Christopher Merkley was second. He’s a member of the American Fork First Ward, American Fork Utah Stake. He has high grades (especially in science), loves studying Church history in seminary, and is completing his Eagle rank in Scouting.
Marc Lawson, of the Fresno Fifth Ward, Fresno California North Stake, was third. All five of his brothers and sisters, plus his parents, run competitively. Marc is active in seminary and is in his teachers quorum presidency.
No one realized the three top finishers were LDS until after the race. But they all became fast friends as soon as they found out.