Gospel Story Finder

I learned kindness from many people. One of these was my grandmother Amalie Hollenweger Amacher. She joined the Church as a young woman in Switzerland and later immigrated to northern Utah. Although she always spoke with an accent, there was no mistaking her meaning when we grandchildren needed correction. She wanted us to learn to obey and to treat people well, and she wasn’t afraid to tell us so.
Once Grandma caught me speaking disrespectfully to my parents. She let me know that she was not pleased with my tone of voice. I was grateful for the reminder to speak kindly. For years after her death, whenever I was faced with a decision, I asked myself, “What would my grandmother think?” Her love for the Lord and her love for me made me want to follow her example.

I learned just how eager they were one spring day while driving to Salt Lake City to talk with a woman there. Suddenly, I felt that I could hear the sound of drums beating. I seemed to see an Indian woman, dressed in an oversize plaid shirt, a Navajo skirt, and a silver medallion belt. The seat beside me was empty, but I could sense her presence.
When I arrived in Salt Lake City, I felt prompted to ask the woman with whom I had the appointment whether she had any Indian ancestors. But Carolyn doesn’t look Indian; she’s blonde and blue-eyed, I thought to myself. She’ll think I’m crazy.
When I met Carolyn in her office, the prompting for me to ask was just as strong as it had been in the car. So I asked if she had Indian ancestors.
“Yes,” she said. “My grandmother was Cherokee and was adopted by the Navajo.” She told me about how her “Granny” had worked as a nurse for many years with the Navajo in Arizona, Oklahoma, New Mexico, and Texas. Later, I asked Carolyn about the clothing her grandmother had worn, and she described to me the clothing I had seen the woman wearing.
I told Carolyn about the temple work we had done for the Choctaw. She was thrilled about the possibility of doing the same work for the Cherokee. The Cherokee were the second nation to walk the “Trail of Tears”; there is a record of the tribe in its entirety from 1835—before they had settled in Oklahoma. Carolyn is now doing extraction work on that record, preparing names for the temple.

Many of Samoa’s early Saints were exiled, persecuted and even executed for their faith. In 1904, prophet and President of the Church, Joseph F. Smith (1838–1918), directed the purchase of 800 fertile acres up in the green hills of rural Upolu. This land would provide a refuge for members of the Church.
The people praised the Lord for His kindness and dedicated the 800 acres with a prayer that it might “become a choice land and a fit place for Saints to gather and become a choice people of the Lord.” They then voted to call this place: “Sauniatu,” which means “prepare to go forth.”
Starting over wasn’t easy but the early villagers moved forward in faith, planting crops, building homes and chapels, and founding a school for their children.

Excitement thundered through Mariano Palermo’s veins as he and his teammate rowed past the 1,000-meter mark in first place. They were halfway to his dream of winning the 2003 Argentine national rowing championship in men’s pairs and a shot at participating in qualifiers for the 2004 Olympics in Athens, Greece.
They had settled into a great rhythm—their strong strokes catching the water in perfect harmony and propelling them ahead of the competition.
However, a few hundred meters later, Mariano’s excitement chilled when fatigue began to slow his teammate’s pace.
Mariano eyed the second-place boat not far behind. Would the lead they had built up be enough to get them to the finish line first?
Mariano’s twin sister, Lucía, had her own doubles race to concentrate on a little later that day, but she made sure she was there to watch her brother compete. She was thrilled when his team leaped out to such a quick lead. But her heart sank when she saw their pace drop off.
The Palermo twins have always been very close. Being the same age and involved in many of the same activities, they have always spent a lot of time together.
“Mutual, seminary, school,” Lucía lists. “Now that we’re older, it’s a little different, but we still train together.”
The twins, members of the Pacheco Ward, Buenos Aires Argentina Litoral Stake, are also united by other interests. They both enjoy working with their hands—Lucía doing handicrafts or sewing and Mariano working on cars.
“I love to cook,” Lucía adds.
“And I like to eat, so we’re a good team,” laughs Mariano. “I like to cook with her. I’m not very good at it, but it’s fun.”
While the two get along really well—“We can talk about anything,” says Lucía—Mariano says most people don’t realize they’re twins. The two don’t look alike.
“And we don’t know what the other is thinking,” Lucía says, joking about how twins are sometimes portrayed. “But we’re very affected by what happens to the other, whether in school or in competition. We are very united. It’s a beautiful thing.”
When Mariano felt his teammate’s pace slowing, he knew it didn’t matter how strong he felt. If Mariano pulled his oar harder or faster than his teammate did, the unbalanced effort would send the boat off course.
He matched his teammate’s pace and watched as the competitors started gaining on them.
As twins, Mariano and Lucía share many things. Among them is a fierce drive to train hard and give their best individual effort to reach their goals. But in team rowing, individual effort alone won’t get you across the finish line first. The twins have learned that if you aren’t in sync with your teammates, you won’t win.
“The effectiveness of the boat depends on unity,” Mariano says. “We’ve got to be thinking the same, whether it’s a team of two, four, or eight.”
“If we’re not working together—” begins Lucía.
“Precisely,” Mariano interjects.
“—the boat won’t work,” she finishes.
It’s a principle the two understand not only as rowers but as twins and as members of the Church.
“When the team is focused on the same objective, it’s much easier to obtain,” Mariano says. “It’s the same with our family. We have the same goal to be together forever. That helps a ton.”
The two understand that working together is essential not only in rowing but in reaching our ultimate goal to become like Jesus Christ and return to our Heavenly Father’s presence. The Lord said, “Be one; and if ye are not one ye are not mine” (D&C 38:27).
Once we’ve learned that life is not a singles competition but a team event, each of us faces a very important spiritual decision.
As the second-place team pulled alongside Mariano’s boat, it took real discipline for him not to give in to the temptation to row as hard as possible. The finish line was so close. But Mariano knew that rowing at his own pace could be disastrous. At best it would only slow them down; at worst it would send them off course and possibly out of the race.
This choice to follow someone else’s pace rather than our own in order to reach our goal is an important principle when applied to life on earth. We cannot return to our Heavenly Father’s presence on our own (see Romans 3:23).
Fortunately, the Savior was willing to put Himself in our boat through the Atonement (see Alma 7:11–12), providing the way to the finish line, where our Heavenly Father is.
But as in rowing, in order to win the prize we must be willing to give up anything that would keep us from rowing in harmony with the Lord. Atonement means to be reconciled or restored to harmony. Achieving harmony requires being willing to give up all our sins (see Alma 22:18), put off worldly desires, and do the Lord’s will (see Mosiah 3:19).
That’s not always easy, but the Savior knows the “race that is set before us” (Hebrews 12:1), and He knows exactly what we need in order to return to our Father’s presence.
If we choose not to follow Him, preferring to do things our own way, we are out of sync and in danger of slowing our progress or even putting ourselves out of the race.
In life as well as in athletics, some would rather set their own pace, believing that individuality is the way to true freedom. They choose to row through life alone, not realizing that with Jesus Christ, they could achieve so much more (see Mark 10:27).
In the rowing world, it is well-known that “a team working together can go much faster than an individual,” Lucía explains.
On the standard 2,000-meter course, a good time for a single male rower at his best pace is under seven minutes (the world record is 6:35.40). On a team of eight, however, that same rower, even though he may be matched with slower individual rowers, could go even faster. The world record for a team of eight is 5:19.85.
Just as it would be difficult for a single rower to beat a unified team, without the Savior, we cannot obtain our eternal goals.
Mariano and his teammate refused to give up. But shortly before the finish line, they were passed, leaving them in second place.
Lucía was at the boat ramp when Mariano pulled his boat out after the race. She had her own race coming up to think about, but when she saw his disappointed tears, she broke down herself.
“I knew how hard he had worked,” she says. “I couldn’t bear seeing him so disappointed. I had never seen him like that.”
Together, the twins sorrowed in Mariano’s disappointment. Finally, Lucía’s coach separated them, worried that she wouldn’t be able to focus on her own race. But when the time came, Lucía and her teammate won their pairs race and later the South American championships, earning the right to compete in the 2004 Olympics.
And just as they had shared sorrow in Mariano’s disappointment, they rejoiced together in Lucía’s success.
“I was so excited when she won the opportunity to compete in the Olympics,” Mariano says. “She earned it.”
At the Olympics, Lucía and her teammate ended up ranked 17th. Like Mariano’s results, her finish wasn’t exactly all she had dreamed about. Still, their goals remain high. In the short-term, they want to qualify for an Olympic medal. In the long run, they want to qualify for eternal life.
Both goals will require sacrifice and a willingness to work as one with someone else.
But while the world rewards only one winner (see 1 Corinthians 9:24), no matter how united each team is, the prize the Lord offers can be obtained by all who qualify. Nephi said that “many of us, if not all, may be saved in his kingdom” (2 Nephi 33:12; emphasis added), but we must first “be reconciled unto Christ” (2 Nephi 33:9) by sacrificing our worldly desires in order to follow Him.
The Palermo twins are united in the hope that their faith and sacrifices will be enough to win the one race that matters most of all.

A reporter from a leading Brazilian magazine studied the Church in preparation for a major news article.1 He examined our doctrine and visited the missionary training and humanitarian centers. He spoke with friends of the Church and with others who were not so friendly. In the interview with me, the reporter seemed honestly puzzled as he asked, “How could someone not consider you Christian?” I knew he was referring to the Church, but my mind somehow framed the question personally, and I found myself silently asking, “Does my life reflect the love and devotion I feel for the Savior?”
Jesus asked the Pharisees, “What think ye of Christ?”2 In the final assessment, our personal discipleship will not be judged by friends or foes. Rather, as Paul said, “We shall all stand before the judgment seat of Christ.”3 At that day the important question for each of us will be, “What thinks Christ of me?”
Even with His love for all mankind, Jesus reprovingly referred to some around Him as hypocrites,4 fools,5 and workers of iniquity.6 He approvingly called others children of the kingdom7 and the light of the world.8 He disapprovingly referred to some as blinded9 and unfruitful.10 He commended others as pure in heart11 and hungering after righteousness.12 He lamented that some were faithless13 and of the world,14 but others He esteemed as chosen,15 disciples,16 friends.17 And so we each ask, “What thinks Christ of me?”
President Thomas S. Monson has described our day as moving away “from that which is spiritual … [with] the winds of change [swirling] around us and the moral fiber of society [continuing] to disintegrate before our very eyes.”18 It is a time of growing disbelief in and disregard for Christ and His teachings.
In this turbulent environment, we rejoice in being disciples of Jesus Christ. We see the Lord’s hand all around us. Our destination is beautifully set before us. “This is life eternal,” Jesus prayed, “that they might know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent.”19 Being a disciple in these days of destiny will be a badge of honor throughout the eternities.
The messages we have heard during this conference are guideposts from the Lord on our journey of discipleship. As we have listened during the past two days, praying for spiritual guidance, and as we study and pray about these messages in the days ahead, the Lord blesses us with customized direction through the gift of the Holy Ghost. These feelings turn us even more toward God, repenting, obeying, believing, and trusting. The Savior responds to our acts of faith. “If a man [or woman] love me, he will keep my words: and my Father will love him, and we will come unto him, and make our abode with him.”20
Jesus’s call “Come, follow me”21 is not only for those prepared to compete in a spiritual Olympics. In fact, discipleship is not a competition at all but an invitation to all. Our journey of discipleship is not a dash around the track, nor is it fully comparable to a lengthy marathon. In truth, it is a lifelong migration toward a more celestial world.
His invitation is a call to daily duty. Jesus said: “If ye love me, keep my commandments.”22 “If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me.”23 We may not be at our very best every day, but if we are trying, Jesus’s bidding is full of encouragement and hope: “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”24
Wherever you now find yourself on the road of discipleship, you are on the right road, the road toward eternal life. Together we can lift and strengthen one another in the great and important days ahead. Whatever the difficulties confronting us, the weaknesses confining us, or the impossibilities surrounding us, let us have faith in the Son of God, who declared, “All things are possible to him that believeth.”25
Let me share two examples of discipleship in action. The first is from the life of President Thomas S. Monson, demonstrating the power of simple kindness and Jesus’s teaching, “He that is greatest among you shall be your servant.”26
Nearly 20 years ago, President Monson spoke in general conference about a 12-year-old young woman suffering from cancer. He told of her courage and the kindness of her friends to carry her up Mount Timpanogos in central Utah.
A few years ago I met Jami Palmer Brinton and heard the story from a different perspective—the perspective of what President Monson had done for her.
Jami met President Monson in March 1993, a day after being told that a mass above her right knee was a fast-growing bone cancer. With her father assisting, President Monson administered a priesthood blessing, promising, “Jesus will be on your right side and on your left side to buoy you up.”
“Upon leaving his office that day,” Jami said, “I unfastened a balloon tied to my wheelchair and gave it to him. ‘You’re the Best!’ it announced in bright letters.”
Through her chemotherapy treatments and limb-saving surgery, President Monson did not forget her. Jami said, “President Monson exemplified what it means to be a true disciple of Christ. [He] lifted me from sorrow to great and abiding hope.” Three years after their first meeting, Jami again sat in President Monson’s office. At the end of the meeting, he did something that Jami will never forget. So typical of President Monson’s thoughtfulness, he surprised her with the very same balloon that she had given to him three years before. “You’re the Best!” the balloon proclaimed. He had saved it, knowing she would return to his office when she was cured of cancer. Fourteen years after first meeting Jami, President Monson performed her marriage to Jason Brinton in the Salt Lake Temple.27
We can learn so much from the discipleship of President Monson. He often reminds the General Authorities to remember this simple question: “What would Jesus do?”
Jesus told the leader of the synagogue, “Be not afraid, only believe.”28 Discipleship is believing Him in seasons of peace and believing Him in seasons of difficulty, when our pain and fear are calmed only by the conviction that He loves us and keeps His promises.
I recently met a family who is a beautiful example of how we believe Him. Olgan and Soline Saintelus, from Port-au-Prince, Haiti, told me their story.
On January 12, 2010, Olgan was at work and Soline was at the church when a devastating earthquake struck Haiti. Their three children—Gancci, age five, Angie, age three, and Gansly, age one—were at home in their apartment with a friend.
Massive devastation was everywhere. As you will remember, tens of thousands lost their lives that January in Haiti. Olgan and Soline ran as fast as they could to their apartment to find the children. The three-story apartment building where the Saintelus family lived had collapsed.
The children had not escaped. No rescue efforts would be devoted to a building that was so completely destroyed.
Olgan and Soline Saintelus had both served full-time missions and had been married in the temple. They believed in the Savior and in His promises to them. Yet their hearts were broken. They wept uncontrollably.
Olgan told me that in his darkest hour he began to pray. “Heavenly Father, if it be thy will, if there could be just one of my children alive, please, please help us.” Over and over he walked around the building, praying for inspiration. The neighbors tried to comfort him and help him accept the loss of his children. Olgan continued to walk around the rubble of the collapsed building, hoping, praying. Then something quite miraculous happened. Olgan heard the almost inaudible cry of a baby. It was the cry of his baby.
For hours the neighbors frantically dug into the rubble, risking their own lives. In the dark of the night, through the piercing sounds of hammers and chisels, the rescue workers heard another sound. They stopped their pounding and listened. They couldn’t believe what they were hearing. It was the sound of a little child—and he was singing. Five-year-old Gancci later said that he knew his father would hear him if he sang. Under the weight of crushing concrete that would later result in the amputation of his arm, Gancci was singing his favorite song, “I Am a Child of God.”29
As the hours passed amid the darkness, death, and despair of so many other precious sons and daughters of God in Haiti, the Saintelus family had a miracle. Gancci, Angie, and Gansly were discovered alive under the flattened building.30
Miracles are not always so immediate. At times we thoughtfully wonder why the miracle we have so earnestly prayed for does not happen here and now. But as we trust in the Savior, promised miracles will occur. Whether in this life or the next, all will be made right. The Savior declares: “Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.”31 “In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.”32
I testify that as you love Him, trust Him, believe Him, and follow Him, you will feel His love and approval. As you ask, “What thinks Christ of me?” you will know that you are His disciple; you are His friend. By His grace He will do for you what you cannot do for yourself.
We eagerly await the concluding remarks of our beloved prophet. President Thomas S. Monson was ordained an Apostle of the Lord Jesus Christ when I was 12 years old. For more than 48 years we have been blessed to hear him bear witness of Jesus Christ. I testify that he now stands as the Savior’s senior Apostle upon the earth.
With great love and admiration for the many disciples of Jesus Christ who are not members of this Church, we humbly declare that angels have returned to the earth in our day. The Church of Jesus Christ as He established it anciently has been restored, with the power, ordinances, and blessings of heaven. The Book of Mormon is another testament of Jesus Christ.
I witness that Jesus Christ is the Savior of the world. He suffered and died for our sins and rose the third day. He is resurrected. In a future day, every knee will bow and every tongue confess that He is the Christ.33 On that day, our concern will not be, “Do others consider me Christian?” At that time, our eyes will be fixed on Him, and our souls will be riveted on the question, “What thinks Christ of me?” He lives. I so testify in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

The organ music was solemn and low, and a reverent hush fell over the congregation as the pallbearers entered carrying the simple pine box. A few garden flowers had been lovingly placed on top, and nestled among them was an old mandolin, its worn but polished surface gleaming dully in the dim light. The flickering candles made the large room seem gloomier, although sunlight seeped in here and there between the rough-hewn logs.
The organ seemed out of place in this rugged wilderness. There were few luxuries in this early western settlement, and the small organ, brought all the way across the plains on a wagon, was highly treasured.
Amanda watched little puffs of dust rise from the floor as the pallbearers walked slowly down the isle.
“The coffin is so small,” she whispered to her mother.
“Your great-grandfather may not have been very tall in stature, but he was a giant in spirit,” Mother whispered back.
Amanda nodded, and bitter tears stung her dark brown eyes. Grandpa’s death was hard for her to understand. He had been lighthearted, always spreading laughter wherever he went. And music. How he loved music!
“Manda, the world would be a sad and sorry place without music,” he had said to her often. “It’s helped me more times than I can recollect, both before and after I left Denmark.”
“Tell me a story about Denmark, Grandpa. Please?” she used to plead.
“All right, but you know you’ve heard them all before.” His eyes would twinkle as the tale would unfold. “When I was a young lad in Alborg, my family tended sheep in the fields surrounding the town. The country was lush and green in the daytime, but at night everything was veiled in shadows. I had the evening watch alone. Sometimes the sheep were restless, so I always took along my old mandolin. I’d sing a quiet song, and it would settle them down. It would ease my mind a bit too. Tending sheep can be mighty lonely. My mandolin has always been a comfort to me, Manda. I’m glad you have learned to play it. Someday I want you to have it.”
A sharp nudge from her older brother brought Amanda back to the present. Bishop Madsen stepped up to the tall box that served as a pulpit and announced the opening song and prayer. Then Amanda’s mind wandered again as the service began. She could see herself bumping around in the back of the covered wagon, gazing wistfully behind them as the trial disappeared into dust. She’d missed her home and the friends she’d left behind. Grandpa hadn’t seemed to, though. He’d sat in front, constantly looking ahead.
“Let’s sing a song,” he’d suggest. Amanda would be the first to join in.
Come, come, ye Saints, no toil nor labor fear;
But with joy wend your way.
Though hard to you this journey may appear,
Grace shall be as your day …
Their voices had been carried by the warm Nebraska wind, and soon all the settlers in their company had raised their voices to sing along.
The most precious moments had been at night around the campfire. The wagons had been pulled together into a circle, and the moon had loomed large in the prairie sky, softly shining on tired, sunbaked faces.
The trek to Utah was long and hard, Amanda thought. Grandpa had made it then. Why did he have to die now?
The bishop had finished speaking, and he turned toward Amanda.
“Amanda, we all know how much you and your great-grandfather loved to sing together. Do you think you could come up here and sing one of his favorite songs for us?”
Amanda froze in her seat. I could never sing without Grandpa, she thought. Then she looked at the mandolin lying among the flowers. It had helped Grandpa while he tended sheep. Maybe it would help her now.
She rose slowly and walked over to the casket. Her hands trembled as she lifted the mandolin from its bed of flowers. Several people in the crowd nodded encouragement. Amanda cleared her throat, placed her fingers on the strings, and began: “Come, come, ye Saints, …”
The song went beautifully until she came to the last verse. Tears welled up in her eyes, and her voice started to quaver.
Bishop Madsen stepped quickly to Amanda’s side, beckoning the congregation to join in. Instantly the little log church was filled with music.
And should we die before our journey’s through,
Happy day! all is well!
We then are free from toil and sorrow, too;
With the just we shall dwell! …
Amanda sat down, still holding the mandolin. Mother put her arm around Amanda’s shoulder and said, “Grandpa’s mandolin can become as much a part of you as it was a part of him. Take good care of it.”
Amanda smiled. It was already a great comfort to her.

Finally, nine years later, I knew how to become like those missionaries! The missionary age was now 18, but my adoption had not yet been finalized. I waited seven long months until my adoption was completed. Finally, my missionary papers could be submitted. Four days later I received my mission call. In just one week the Lord blessed me with final adoption papers and a mission call. I treasure both papers exceedingly! They are my seventh miracle. Yes, indeed, it took many miracles along the way from that mud hut in Ethiopia to my treasured mission.

Just before my junior year in high school, my family moved 3,000 miles to the San Francisco area. I started the year knowing exactly one person—my freshman sister.

Redwood High School was very different from the strict high school I had been attending. The whole atmosphere was intimidating.

Shortly after school began, I tried out for cheerleader. I didn’t even make first cuts. In October I went to an audition for a Christmas choir program. Before I even sang a note, the choir director asked me if I had ever been in a school choir. When my answer was no, I was ushered out the door and told thank you very much.

The one bright spot in my day was early-morning seminary, where I always felt welcome and accepted.

At school I worked hard and occasionally forced myself to contribute during classroom discussions. Eventually I made some friends and found a group to eat lunch with. I went to the ball games and school plays, volunteered during spirit week, and hung out at the dances. But I still never felt like I quite belonged.

I kept busy my senior year filling out college application forms, taking entrance exams, and applying for scholarships. Three weeks before graduation, Lee, the good-looking, iron-pumping, brainy debate team member and senior class president, called out to me after class and asked me to walk with him. I was stunned that he even knew my name.

As we walked he explained that he was the president of his church youth group. The group had been studying the religions of the world, and someone had expressed interest in learning about Latter-day Saints. Lee turned to face me and asked if I would deliver an hour-long presentation about the Church to his group.

Weakly I managed to reply, “You don’t want me to speak; who you really want is our missionaries. I’ll ask them for you.”

His response startled me, “We don’t want your missionaries. We want you. We know you, we’ve watched you, and we like who you are.”

Stunned again, I told Lee I would be glad to speak to his group.

The next five days were a flurry of preparation. My seminary teacher, my parents, and the missionaries helped me prepare to explain the basic principles of the gospel and how The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints differs from other churches. Knowing that Lee and his friends were forceful debaters who could be merciless against opponents, I also fasted and prayed for divine guidance.

The day of the presentation arrived. With scriptures in hand and a prayer in my heart, I entered the meeting hall. The 35 people in the room—kids from school, a few adults, and the pastor—all turned to look at me as I walked to the front. After Lee greeted me warmly and introduced me, I took a deep breath and began by telling the Joseph Smith story. A calm feeling filled the room, and for the next 45 minutes the words I spoke came smoothly and effortlessly. I ended by bearing my testimony of modern-day prophets, revelation, and the love Jesus Christ has for each of us.

Then, with great apprehension, I asked if there were any questions. Hands shot up all over the room. Oh boy, here it comes, I thought to myself. But to my surprise, none of the questions were hostile or quarrelsome. As I left the hall I knew that a power stronger than my own had directed the evening’s event.

Throughout high school I had always assumed that being popular meant dating cool guys, appearing in lots of yearbook pictures, or being prom queen. Through this experience, I finally realized that there is a different kind of popularity—popularity based on respect.

We have three young children, ages five, three, and one. Initially our family home evenings were disasters. The children would disruptively keep the attention on themselves. My wife and I felt almost defeated.
Then one Monday night, my wife taught about Samuel the Lamanite using flannel-board pictures as visuals. We all took turns posting the pictures on the board to correspond with the characters in the account as they were mentioned. The children enjoyed the activity so much that we had our first peaceful and Spirit-filled family home evening in many months.
This lesson revolutionized our family home evenings. We began preparing more interactive lessons, and the children volunteered to do all sorts of things to make family home evening work. We also began devoting more time to planning our family home evenings. We made sure that no two home evenings had the same agenda. The variety of activities helped to keep our children’s interest.
It has taken deliberate efforts on our part to institute and sustain these elements in our family home evenings. But our children now anticipate family home evening and participate in more constructive ways.

The members were also encouraged to become spiritually self-reliant. Following the example of a group that started in St. Lucia where a group of sisters are meeting for prayer and scripture study at 5:00 am each morning from Monday to Saturday, the sisters in St. Vincent also began in earnest. They meet on Zoom with other members of the Church in the Caribbean Area at the same time. Despite the prevailing circumstances, the members are strong and without fear, and they continue to meet morning after morning.

I probably would have been a Mormon years before if Boyd had asked the question right.
To his credit, he’d done all the right things—he’d dragged me along to stake dances, to firesides, and even to church a few times. But after all those months of preparation, and after he’d finally built up the courage to pop the big question, he asked: “Do you want to hear the missionary discussions?”
I had no idea what he was talking about.
“Don’t you have to be a Mormon to do that?” I asked, guessing that missionary discussions were intended to get young folks ready to go on missions.
“No,” Boyd said.
I had no idea what I was turning down when I said, “Uh … I guess not.”
Boyd’s not to blame. He was a good friend and a good Mormon. The only trouble was, he was speaking Mormonese—a language most people do not understand. Eventually, I did join the Church thanks to his and others’ good influence. But from their actions, I’ve learned a few things about being friends to those not of our faith which might help you teach your friends a little about the gospel.

Deciding to Be Baptized
Kerry Johnson, 16, Farragut Ward
I remember when I was deciding whether or not to be baptized. One day, I got up really early. It was a Saturday. I went out into this field we lived by. The sun was just coming up. I was lying down, really praying a lot about if the Church was true or not. I lay there awhile just thinking. I didn’t know whether to ask for a sign or what, but I started getting a good feeling. When I opened my eyes, all these little butterflies were flying up from the grass. It seemed to fit how I felt. I knew in that moment that the Church was true.

During my sophomore year of high school, I became friends with Courtney. Initially I’d known her only by her reputation as “the cool party girl,” but then she was in my math class and we had many mutual friends. I was surprised when she took an instant liking to me and was so willing to become my friend. Because of my standards, I didn’t attend the high school parties she did, and I didn’t fit in with her lifestyle at the time.
But things changed after a few simple conversations. Before I knew it, we were quickly becoming best friends. Courtney began going to parties less and instead began coming over to my house. She would occasionally attend church with my family and me. I was thrilled! I could see that Courtney was thirsty for knowledge about the Church.
I wondered what had prompted her to make these changes in her lifestyle, so I asked her. I will never forget when she told me that she was impressed by my lifestyle and how happy I was all the time. She wanted to be my friend, but she didn’t think I would want to be hers. I found this funny because I used to feel the same way about her.
I believe that as youth in the Church, we should all “stand as witnesses of God at all times” (Mosiah 18:9), because people are watching us. I’m grateful for my opportunity to be an example to Courtney, who was eventually baptized five years after our math class together. I’ve never felt any feeling like I did when I watched Courtney be baptized, and I will never forget the smile on her face as she came out of the waters of baptism.

Brisbine Italian Chili
What do you do when there are chili beans and tomato sauce in the cupboard but no chili powder? The only spice in sight was Italian spice when Elder Ted Brisbine from Wenatchee, Washington, was making chili one night in Houlton, Maine. The answer was (you guessed it) Italian chili. He liked it so much that he made it that way from then on. People from New Mexico and Texas get upset when they hear this recipe, but don’t let that stop you from trying it.

I was reading the story “Walking in Remembrance” in your July 2002 issue. While reading this I was reminded of my stake’s pioneer trip and my experience in June 2000. Our trip was to be four days long but was cut short because of a really bad storm. We were awakened at 1 A.M. the first night because our sleeping bags were soaked. We were sent home the next afternoon. I often ponder how fortunate I am because when the pioneers went through rainstorms or snowstorms, they couldn’t pack up and call it quits. Through my experience on the pioneer trek, I have gained a huge appreciation for what the pioneers did.
Julia NelsonSpanaway, Washington

Some time ago, a friend and I applied for an educational program. I was confident I would be selected. When the results came out, I was disappointed that my friend was selected but I was not. I felt wronged because I thought I deserved to be selected more than my friend.
At that moment, I saw my friend as an opponent or someone who had taken something that belonged to me. A few days later, while studying Jacob 2 in the Book of Mormon, I read how Jacob had rebuked his people for their sins. One of those sins was pride.
Jacob’s teachings made me realize that I was committing the sin of pride toward my friend by thinking I deserved something given to him. Jacob’s words were a revelation to me:
“Let not this pride of your hearts destroy your souls!
“Think of your brethren like unto yourselves” (Jacob 2:16–17).
I prayed to Heavenly Father to forgive me and to help me avoid the sin of pride in the future. Then I spoke to my friend about how I had felt and asked him to forgive me. I felt peace and joy in doing so and in receiving forgiveness from him and from Heavenly Father.

September Roses, by Jeanette Winter. Based on a true story, this book tells about two sisters stranded in New York in the aftermath of September 11. The women, who are flying with thousands of roses for a flower show, land right after the Twin Towers are hit. A stranger offers them a place to stay. Wanting to repay this kindness, they take their flowers to Union Square and arrange them in the shape of the fallen towers.

Your testimony will grow as you listen to the prophet’s voice. You will feel the concern he has for you. When he speaks, you will feel the Holy Ghost. When I was 12 years old, the President of the Church was David O. McKay. My Beehive class was in Salt Lake City one day to do baptisms for the dead at the temple. We saw President McKay. Our Beehive advisor was bold enough to walk us all over to meet the prophet. He shook all of our hands. I will never forget the powerful feeling I had when I shook his hand. I knew he was a prophet of God.

Moroni Rubio was only 16 when he earned the number one ranking among sprinters in Mexico, after breaking records in the 100- and 200-meter sprints. That same year, 2002, he took first place in the 100 meters at the Central American Junior Championships and was named athlete of the year in the state of Yucatán.
His dreams are pinned on his feet, which are expected to carry him all the way to the 2008 Summer Olympics in Beijing, China. But even if, for some reason, his feet don’t take him to the Olympics, they will have already accomplished a great work.
His feet have put his unique name in the spotlight, bringing him numerous missionary opportunities. Because of Moroni’s success, he’s been on television a number of times—each time with his name right there on the screen.
“I’m asked about my name a lot,” says Moroni, a priest in the Mérida México Lakín Stake. “It’s a great opportunity to talk about the gospel. And when I race, the members watching always know I’m a member too—by my name. I think it’s something they’re proud of.”
His coaches have always told him he has a beautiful stride. But for Moroni, having “beautiful feet” is just as important—remembering Isaiah’s words about missionaries: “How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings” (Isa. 52:7).

I was about 12 or 13 when our family decided that we wanted to visit some of the Church historical sites in upstate New York. For months we planned and replanned the trip.
As I got off the school bus on the last day of class, there parked in the driveway was the camper, that wonderful vehicle that was going to take us on our trip. My dad owned his own business, so we were fortunate to be able to take extended trips.
We saw Niagara Falls. We attended the Hill Cumorah Pageant and looked at the Joseph Smith farm. After a few rigorous days of touring, we arrived at the place I had dreamed of visiting someday, the Sacred Grove. This was the place where young Joseph Smith had the glorious vision that started the restoration of the gospel.
As we piled out of the camper, we all knew how special this place was. When we walked into the cool shade of those big trees, we were overcome by what had happened here. My dad suggested that we kneel and have a family prayer. We scouted around for a quiet, peaceful place, similar to the one where Joseph Smith might have knelt for an answer to his prayer.
As my father prayed, I felt the Spirit of God stronger than I had ever felt it before. It seemed to grasp my entire body. The feeling had such intensity that I could hardly remember to pick myself up off the ground. It was wonderful. It was at that time that my own testimony began to develop.
I gained my testimony because of a wonderful earthly father who had a strong desire to instill in his children the testimony he had, and because of a kind and loving Heavenly Father who knew that I would need the gospel in my life.