Gospel Story Finder

Susie sat at her desk in the back corner of the classroom, twirling a strand of shiny dark hair around and around her finger.
“Susie, do you have the answer to problem eleven?” Mrs. Marsh asked. “Susie?”
Suddenly hearing her name, Susie made the jump from her daydream to what was actually happening in the class. “No, Mrs. Marsh. I didn’t get it.”
She could hear someone in the class snicker. Why does somebody always have to snicker when you’re already feeling dumb? she wondered.
In her daydreams, nobody snickered at Susie. Of course, there was no reason to. In her daydreams, she always had the answer when the teacher called her. She was always picked first on the dodgeball teams. She was always surrounded by friends who thought she was smart and pretty. And she was always “all-American.”
Reality wasn’t nearly as nice. In reality, Susie was shy, not very athletic, not quick with the correct answers, not the popular blond beauty she wished to be. In reality, Susie was Japanese-American, and different from everybody else in her new school.
This week Susie had an additional problem: Tomorrow, Saturday, was Grandmother’s birthday. Grandmother Shizuko would be eighty years old. It was to be a very special birthday with a traditional Japanese dinner before the cake and ice cream. Grandmother had asked Susie earlier in the week to bring two friends to the party to meet her family. Grandmother was so anxious to meet her new friends that Susie couldn’t tell her that she hadn’t made any yet. Inviting friends to a Japanese dinner was not something Susie wanted to do, anyway. She wanted to be as American as possible. She didn’t want any of the kids at school to know how really different her family was.
Well, she would have to ask someone and just hope for the best. Actually there wasn’t much to lose. She couldn’t lose friends, because she didn’t have any. And the kids already knew that she was different, so …
Susie looked around the classroom. She decided to invite Dina, the smartest girl in the class, and Jackie, the friendliest. If she could choose anybody to be friends with, it would be Dina and Jackie. At recess time she gathered her courage and asked them. To her delight, they both said that they’d come. But would they think her family was strange?
As the time for Grandmother’s birthday dinner approached, Susie became nervous. She helped Mother set the table with the best china dishes, ones with a pale green bamboo design on them. She handed flowers to Mother, who arranged them in a beautiful centerpiece. Then she helped wrap the birthday presents and licked the beaters after Mother had frosted the birthday cake.
When the doorbell rang, Susie ran to answer it. Dina and Jackie stood on the porch, smiling. They were wearing pretty dresses and holding a package between them.
Susie took a deep breath and hoped that the party would go well for Grandmother’s sake and her own. She hoped once again that the girls wouldn’t find her family too strange, that they would accept her and her family as friends.
She led Dina and Jackie into the living room, where Grandmother sat in a large chair. “Grandmother, this is Dina and this is Jackie.” She turned to her guests. “This is my Grandmother Shizuko. I am named for her, but for Americans, I call myself Susie,” she explained.
The girls were not shy around Grandmother. “Are you really from Japan?” Dina asked.
“Yes. I was born in Japan, but I have lived in America for many years now,” Grandmother answered.
“Do you speak Japanese?” Jackie asked her. When Grandmother nodded with a smile, Jackie asked, “Would you teach us to say something in Japanese?”
“Konban wa (kone-bahn wah),” said Grandmother, bowing her head slightly. “It means ‘good evening.’”
“Konban wa,” the girls said to Grandmother and each other.
“We brought you a birthday present,” said Dina, holding out the package.
“Arigato (ah-lee-gaht-o).” Grandmother smiled. “That means ‘thank you.’”
The girls asked Grandmother what it was like to grow up in Japan. She told them stories about her childhood there, until Father announced that dinner was ready.
Everything was going well so far. The girls seemed to really enjoy hearing Grandmother’s stories and learning a few Japanese words. But what would happen now? What would they think of the food? The main course was sushi, a colorful green, yellow, and red roll made of rice, cooked eggs, vegetables, processed fish, and ginger, all wrapped in seaweed. There was also tai (tie), a cooked fish, and sekihan (sek-ee-hahn), a red rice, which symbolize good wishes; sunomono (su-no-mo-no), vinegared cucumbers; chicken teriyaki; and other delicious things. Afterward, the American traditional birthday cake and ice cream was served.
The girls ate some of everything, even the seaweed rolls, although they giggled when they found out what they were made of. “If I had known before that it was seaweed, I probably wouldn’t have eaten it,” Jackie said. “But I’m glad I did. It’s delicious.”
“We don’t always eat Japanese food like this,” Susie hastily put in. “Lots of times we have hamburgers or steak. We mostly eat American food.” She didn’t want them to think that she ate a lot of weird things.
“But this is terrific! I envy you,” Dina said.
To Susie’s amazement, Jackie nodded in agreement. And they looked like they really meant it. “You envy me?”
“Yes. You’re lucky to have such an interesting family with both American and Japanese traditions,” Dina told her.
“And a grandmother who can tell such interesting stories!” Jackie added. “She should come to school sometime to tell the class about Japan.”
“Oh, yes!” Dina agreed enthusiastically. “Your family is really unique.”
Unique! Susie had never thought of it that way. She had thought that her classmates would find her family strange, maybe even weird. But Dina and Jackie thought that they were unique, a family to be proud of! Susie felt ashamed for not realizing how special her family was.
As she looked at her family and new friends gathered around the table, Grandmother met her gaze and said “Ii tomodachi (Ee toh-mo-dah-chee),” which Susie knew meant “good friends.” And when Grandmother showed Dina and Jackie another Japanese tradition by presenting them with little Japanese bowls to take home, Susie was proud.

Chances are you haven’t heard of the town of Santa Maria in the Philippines. There’s not much to see in this sleepy farming community—or so you think until you climb the mountains for a sprawling view of the national capital, Manila. It’s definitely kahanga-hanga—a marvel.
And chances are you haven’t—but must—hear of Santa Maria’s other marvel, an ordinary-looking elder who is surely kahanga-hanga too. Elder Bienveniedo Cayetano can tie neckties single-handedly or give left-handed handshakes nonstop. But it’s an armful of spiritual strength that has made him an exceptional missionary.
At first glance, Bien is like any other 19-year-old Filipino Latter-day Saint serving in the Philippines San Pablo Mission. But shake hands with him and you’ll notice something unusual. Bien lost his entire right arm during an earthquake. But that’s going ahead of the story.
Bien comes from a large family. To support their widowed mother, all of the Cayetano children did backbreaking labor in the rice fields. Nevertheless, they managed to attend school. Bien garnered medals in English, newswriting, and fine arts. He won track-and-field awards.
An older brother, Chris, had previously been baptized, but the rest of the family did not follow. While serving a mission, Chris requested that the elders back home visit Bien, who was taught and soon accepted baptism. But as Bien started high school, other pursuits—including a new group of friends—made church seem less attractive.
“My brother could not force me to go,” says Bien, “and I resisted attempts to reactivate me.” But Bien knew that despite good grades and many friends, he felt empty and aimless at times. He remembered how happy people at church were, and finally decided to return.
After graduating with honors from high school, Bien studied political science at the Christian College of the Philippines. “We were talking in class about earthquakes,” Bien remembers, “laughing about getting caught in one.” Suddenly, the whole classroom swayed. It was an earthquake.
Terrified, everyone scrambled to escape. The building was dancing madly. Just as Bien was about to dash to safety through an open door, he was pinned by an avalanche of concrete.
“A broken chair jabbed at my stomach, one of my legs was in a half-kneeling posture, and I was face down,” he remembers. His fractured right arm bled profusely under a block of collapsed flooring. Yet, incredibly, a huge chunk of fallen concrete had barely missed his head. “Classmates were crying for help, but I couldn’t budge,” Bien recalls. One by one they died, including three lying on Bien. The quake struck in late afternoon, and by evening it was pitch dark. Everything was silent.
“I cried,” Bien admits. But as he wept, a Primary song crossed his mind. He started singing “I Am a Child of God.” As each word pierced the silence, a feeling of peace came, a feeling that he was no longer alone. “I prayed, saying, ‘Father, if I still need to live, then please let me live.’” As he prayed, Bien remembered the Savior. “He suffered a lot more than I did,” Bien realized. The cave-in became a tremendous spiritual experience.
As the sun rose the following morning, so did Bien’s hopes. Rescue workers pried him from the rubble and carried him to safety. His relieved family was notified. Bien was rushed to a hospital. Doctors immediately amputated his right arm. “I woke up, looked at my right side and cried out, ‘What’s happening here?’ I thought I was dreaming.” Shock turned to sorrow. “I felt so lonely because I might not be able to do what I used to do.”
After three bedridden months, Bien went home. Nearly all of his 50 classmates had perished. It seemed the same thing happened to Bien’s will to live. How could he, a right-handed person, manage with just his left hand?
While tutoring his nephews one day, Bien felt prompted to practice writing the alphabet. At first it was pure frustration. “My mind knew the shapes, but my hand had difficulty following.” However, practice makes perfect; less than a year after that fateful day, Bien was not only writing with ease but also back to his oil-painting hobby. And he resumed college.
After a year, he felt it was time to make use of his newfound strength to serve a mission. His family was aghast. “We’d really worry about you,” his mother protested.
“I know this is what the Lord wants,” Bien reassured her.
Months later, as a missionary, Bien received a family letter. “Don’t worry about us,” they wrote. “We’re boasting about you already.”
Bien’s personality affects just about everybody. At the Manila Missionary Training Center he was an inspiration, and his dedication has touched the Santa Maria branch. But Bien admits there are still some challenges, like forgoing basketball and service projects like harvesting rice.
One of Bien’s favorite scriptures says God “will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will … also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it” (1 Cor. 10:13). It’s a scripture that helps Bien see everything as a learning experience.
Mission life, he says, “is like a school where I learn much, not only about the gospel but also about myself.” He hastens to add that it was in the rubble of another school where he learned to trust Heavenly Father.
Ask Bien to sum up his blessings and he’ll share his motto: “I asked God for health that I might do great things, and I was given an infirmity that I might do greater things.”
Then he’ll smile and extend his friendship to you—with a warm, left-handed handshake.

I always knew God cared about us, but I never realized how much He cares. It took a long day in Mexico for me to even begin to fathom how intricate His designs are.
My family rose on a Saturday morning, so early that the San Diego, California, sky had only just begun to turn the soft gray of predawn June. We packed into the car, all eight of us squashing into every available seatbelt of our van.
Our group—a collection of stake leaders, high councilors, and their families—met up at the church, forming a caravan of nine cars. President Heap had included Project Mercy in the stake calendars with good reason. An isolated Tijuana community needed volunteers to help build houses for their families, and who among us couldn’t spare a single Saturday?
The 20-mile (32-km) drive from San Diego to Mexico passed quickly. In the streets of Tijuana, my first impression was that no one cared about these neighborhoods. Surely, no one looked very hard at them, if they even admitted to seeing them at all.
We reached our destination on the outskirts of Tijuana soon after the sun began rising to greet us. All around we saw clusters of families. Their clothes were worn. Many had no shoes. Dogs trotted through the grounds, unclaimed and uncared for. Each family was delighted at our arrival: today they might have a home.
Our supplies were simple, our directions simpler still. Laborers had poured concrete foundations a month ago. Planks of plywood lay neatly stacked to one side of the road. Build four walls; add a roof; paint the finished handiwork of last week’s volunteers. And so we did, bursting into activity. The men immediately pulled on gloves and strapped on tool belts. The women handed out paintbrushes, mixing bright, fresh colors into large paint buckets.
The sun broke over us glaringly. Each and every one of us broke into a hard sweat before the second hour was up, but at the end of the day we left two families with freshly painted houses, and one with a new home altogether. It was still unpainted, but I could see that it didn’t matter to the father. He looked past the rough surfaces to the stable walls.
This last family transformed my day’s labor into joy. President Heap asked to say a blessing over their new home, and they allowed it. We all clustered into its one common room, the father standing beside President Heap. Brother Woods, still fluent from a Spanish-speaking mission, offered words I couldn’t understand, but which rolled through the house and left peace in their wake. The family bowed their heads with us in gratitude. The father cried.
After the prayer, we gathered into the cars and reversed down a narrow lane, into a wide, flat area before we could turn and pull onto the road’s shoulder. My family, last in the caravan, took the most time in this procedure, our van being the largest car in the group. I reflected back on all I had seen, now mindful of the stability of my own life. I had full access to the “necessities.” These families gained them in gradual, lurching steps, always according to the schedules of helpful strangers.
The day left us tired and satisfied, but with one regret: no one had thought to bring a Book of Mormon.
With all the men and women who had come, I wondered how we could have forgotten this single item. Finally our van was turned around, rolling into place on the road. No others from our group left. A hand pointed out an open window, over the tracts of desert.
Hiking across the road, 30 feet behind us, were two missionaries.
President Heap stepped out of his car and waved the missionaries over. They spoke for a few brief minutes, before President Heap pointed them on, smiling, toward the home we had left only minutes ago.
Even though none of us had thought to bring a Book of Mormon for that family, Someone else had thought to provide one.
I recalled my first impression of this place and realized how wrong I had been. Someone had seen this neglected community. Someone had cared.
When we had forgotten, He had remembered.

by Craig Doxey
“No way,” I heard a few of the Venturers murmur as we looked down at the Snake River for the first time. “Look at some of those rapids!”
“Don’t worry,” I assured them, “we won’t be going down this portion of the river. But we will be hitting King Rapid before our river trip is over, and it’s pretty big!”
The Venturers of the Orem 27th Ward, Orem Utah South Stake, had been planning and preparing for this trip since last year. In the back of the Venturing manual there were several pages of instructions detailing how to build a kayak. At a post officers seminar in the fall the presidency had voted to build kayaks during the winter and plan a superactivity around them. Last January when we finally began seriously looking at the idea of building our own kayaks and running a river, we suddenly began to realize the great amount of planning and work that this project would take. After several voting sessions with the Venturer post, post committee, and parents, we decided to give it a try.
We were able to enlist the aid of an explorer adviser who had done this before, and with his instructions and guidance and a kayak mold that we rented, we began purchasing materials. Each boy was asked to earn $50.00 in order to purchase the necessary resin and fiberglass. The post presidency planned several money-making projects, and the boys were able to come up with the rest of the money through cherry picking and yard work.
As each boat was built, our Venturer post learned to work together. At least four or five people are needed for each kayak built. Gradually teamwork skills emerged as the boys began helping each other with their boats. With visions of whitewater and beautiful rivers, they labored through the smell, stickiness, dirtiness, and work of each boat.
As plans for the superactivity began to materialize, we decided to run the Snake River from Jackson Lake Dam to a small resort called Astoria Hot Springs about 70 miles downriver. It was decided in our post meetings that we needed to learn how to read a river and how to paddle. We also needed experience before hitting the “big water” of the Snake. Utah Lake served as our first practice camp, followed by several practice runs and camps down the Provo River. One of the most important skills learned was how to “ferry glide” across a river. This technique is used to move swiftly across a river, even through a rapid, without wasting energy. Our practices required each Venturer to intentionally swamp his boat—many were able to perform this great feat without even trying. I’ll never forget the picture of one of our smallest Venturers towing our 200-pound assistant adviser across the Provo River after the adviser had unintentionally swamped his boat!
We felt well prepared as we began our trip down the Snake River, and each of the skills we had learned and developed were evident as the Venturers ran rapids as tall as they were. “It was worth all that effort,” several of them said as we floated through the beautiful, primitive parts of Teton National Park, camped on the shores of the Snake, and saw elk, beaver, eagles, and other wild animals. Throughout the river trip, and in testimonies given at the testimony meeting the final night on the river, gratefulness was expressed to the Lord for the great experience we had had, for the brotherhood that had developed, and for the beauties of the land that we saw on our trip down the Snake River.

One night when it was time for home evening, Steve suggested, “Let’s do something exciting tonight—like kickball or something.”
So Becky and Julie went outside to set up bases while the older girls stayed to clean up the dinner dishes. It wasn’t long before eight-year-old Becky flew through the door, her face ashen and her voice trembling in fright. “There’s a bear out there! There’s a bear out there!”
Suddenly everyone was bumping shoulders on the porch trying to catch a good view of the bear. There he was, foraging through the bushes, pausing for a moment to watch the commotion on the Crandalls’ porch. Suddenly, a neighbor pointed his rifle out the side window and fired at the bear several times. The injured bear began to lumber away. Quickly Dad and Steve grabbed their guns to help out. “You don’t leave a wounded bear up here. They can get vicious,” Dad explained.
They never caught the bear that night. But when Mom asked, “Was that enough excitement for you, Steve?” laughter filled the tiny house.

It was a cold winter day at Utah Lake, and my dad and I were on the shore looking at the ice that had frozen on the water. My dog Suni got a little too curious and ran out on the lake. Suddenly the ice broke, and Suni fell into the water. We didn’t know how to get Suni back to shore. I was afraid she would drown, so I said a little prayer in my heart for help. Right then an idea came to me. I should throw rocks into the water to break the ice so Suni could swim to shore. The idea worked, and Suni swam quickly to shore. I am grateful for the gift of the Holy Ghost. The Spirit guided me in saving the life of my dog.Bryson P., age 11, Utah

A few years ago late on an April afternoon, three other men and I got out of a small dugout boat at Agua Azul, Chiapas, Mexico, on the Usumacinta River. We entered a small one-motor plane to fly hundreds of miles westward to Tuxtla, Chiapas, on the Grijalva River.
In order to reach Tuxtla, which we had left that morning, President Ernest A. Strong from Springville, Utah, Gareth W. Lowe, manager of the New World Archaeological Foundation, William A. (Bill) Devenish, and I had to fly over one of the most dense jungles in the world and over ranges of mountains.
Heavy black clouds had settled over the jungles. We anticipated that we might run into trouble. For safety’s sake our pilot, Bill, flew the plane very high to get above the clouds. We could not see the ground at any time through the dense clouds. The radio frequency at the Tuxtla airport did not match that on our plane, and so our pilot had to estimate our course back to Tuxtla.
We had traveled a few hours when darkness came on with the immediacy it does in the tropics. Suddenly, the Holy Spirit told me that we had crossed the Grijalva River and were headed westward away from Tuxtla toward a range of mountains and that if we did not change our course quickly we would all get killed.
I immediately told Bill that we were going the wrong direction, that we had crossed the Grijalva River some distance up the river south of Tuxtla. Bill tried to determine the proper course, but because of the turbulent weather conditions, he was unable to do so.
A very depressing, dark feeling came over me. It was a feeling of gloom and despair. I said to President Strong, “We are going to be killed if we keep going in this direction. We’re headed for destruction. If Bill doesn’t change the direction of the plane soon, we will crash.”
President Strong said that he had an oppressive feeling also. We were sitting in the back seat, and Bill heard our conversation. He asked, “President Hunter, which direction do you think we ought to go?”
I quickly replied, “Turn immediately to the right and go north.”
Bill turned the plane to the right. A sweet, peaceful feeling came into my heart, and the Holy Spirit let me know that all would be well. I said, “Everything will be all right with us now. We shall arrive safely at Tuxtla without any mishap.” We had not traveled very long before we saw lights shining from Tuxtla. We circled over the small, dirt airstrip with the lanterns showing us where to land. It was by now very dark.
Our plane landed safely. We observed that there were three or four hundred people at the airstrip. President Strong’s son, Bert, also a stake president, was there and was very delighted to see us back safe. We asked Bert why so many people had collected at the airstrip that evening. He informed us that three Mexicans had gone in a two-motor plane across the jungles and mountains to the Usumacinta River that morning about the time we had flown there. They had not returned and the people of Tuxtla were out waiting for them. Some months later Gareth Lowe wrote informing us that the Mexican plane and its occupants had hit a mountain, and all were killed.
Thus, our lives were spared by heeding the directions given to us by the Holy Spirit. When we arrived at our hotel, we kneeled down and thanked God for his guidance and for saving our lives.
We had completed the assignment given us by President David O. McKay to check on a site claimed to be that of the ancient city of Zarahemla.
We had located the suggested site by following the description given in a document that President McKay sent with us. All four of us agreed that this particular site was altogether too small to support a city as large as Zarahemla. Furthermore, Zarahemla had fields where crops were grown, as well as pasture lands on either side of the city for the Nephite’s flocks. According to the description given in the Book of Mormon, Zarahemla seemed to have been the largest Nephite city in ancient America.
After our return to the hotel, I became quite ill during the night. The next morning my traveling companions came to my bedroom to see why I had not come to breakfast. I told them I was too ill to get out of bed. They said that they would eat breakfast and then go down to the airstrip and look at the plane to see that everything was all right.
They soon returned and informed me that clouds had settled down on the airstrip and on Tuxtla so heavily that we would not be able to get out. We were fogged in, and they had been informed that the airstrip would probably be fogged in for a considerable time because the rainy season was beginning. They asked me what should be done.
After thinking for a few moments I was impressed by the Holy Spirit to say, “Give me a blessing and we will fly out today.” At first they replied, “President Hunter, you are too ill to fly.” But I insisted on being blessed. President Strong anointed and his son Bert sealed the anointing and gave me a blessing. I immediately got up out of bed, went in and ate breakfast, and felt completely healed.
We took our luggage and went down to the airstrip. Shortly after, the clouds lifted sufficiently for us to fly out. We heard later from the archaeological workman that several days passed before the fog and clouds lifted again. Therefore, that particular day was our time to fly out of Tuxtla.
On the way home President Strong said, “President Hunter, write an article for the Church magazines on this marvelous experience we have had. You were directed by the Holy Spirit as strongly as Wilford Woodruff was when he was told to get out of bed and move the wagon in the night. He followed the promptings of the Holy Spirit and moved the wagon just before a strong turbulence came along and pulled up the tree exactly where his wagon had been standing. He and his companion would have been killed if he hadn’t followed the promptings of the Holy Spirit. We have had a similar experience. By following the promptings of the Holy Spirit, our lives were saved.”

—Lisa, a high school sophomore, tells about the time the quarterback of the football team asked her to the homecoming dance.
“I couldn’t believe my luck,” she said. “One of the most high-profile guys in the school had asked me to the most prestigious dance of the year.”
Her enthusiasm dampened, though, when after the dance her date started driving down a lonely road she realized led to Lover’s Lane. Quarterback or no quarterback, she had decided long ago that “parking” was something she would not do.
To avoid embarrassment, she began talking about how this particular road reminded her of a friend’s experience. The police had caught her friend and a date parking up there, and had taken them to the police station.
“Of course, anyone who is silly enough to park deserves what they get,” she laughed. Without speaking, her date turned the car around, and a few minutes later they were sitting in her living room eating pie with her parents.

Because I went to kindergarten early, I was always the youngest in my classes. And because I was the youngest, I always seemed to be the last one to start things. I was the last of my friends to go into Scouting, and my friends were already deacons when I was still in Primary. I felt like I was always behind. I was always the last to advance. But this became an advantage because I was able to learn from the good examples of friends who started before me.

The young people listened intently as Don explained that although even as a child he had been a Buck Rogers fan and dreamed of going to the moon, he would never have been an astronaut except for an experience that seemed at the time no more than a fluke. Only years later did he realize that the Lord had reached out and touched his life.
“When I was at Officer Candidate School,” he said, “the section leader came around and we were supposed to sign up for the, physical examination for any of the specialty programs such as underwater demolition or submarines. We were in the study hall, and he walked up behind me and said, ‘Okay, Lind, what shall I sign you up for?’ and I said, ‘Oh, by all means sign me up for flight training.’ He said, ‘Okay,’ and I said, ‘I’m joking!’ He said, ‘I already marked it down,’ and I said ‘Well, erase it!’ He said, ‘I marked it in pen, and this is the only copy I’ve got.’ If he had marked it in pencil he would have just erased it. I said, ‘What am I going to do now?’ He said, ‘Just go take the physical. You don’t really have to apply for it.’ ‘All right, fine.’ So I took the physical, and by golly I passed it! So I thought, well, you can always go down and just try out for flight training, and if you like it … I did try it, and I did like it, and eventually I began flying off aircraft carriers. But if that guy had had a pencil in his hand instead of a pen, I never would have been an astronaut, because flight skills are one of the requirements.
“I learned from this experience that sometimes we don’t realize what the really critical decisions are, and so we’ve got to have the Lord’s help in guiding us. Choosing a wife or husband is an obviously important decision, but taking that physical didn’t seem very important at all. One reason you pray regularly is so that these seemingly insignificant decisions can be the right ones.”

When I was in my teenage years, I decided I would read the Book of Mormon on my own. It was a decision made quietly, privately. I simply wanted to know for myself whether it was what Joseph Smith proclaimed it to be. I grew up in Seattle, Washington, where there were not many members of the Church, so we had seminary early in the mornings before school. I did not know that our upcoming course of study that year was to be the Book of Mormon, but by the time seminary started, I was well into my reading of the book. While some may say it was a happy coincidence, I believe it was more than that. I would read one chapter a night before I went to bed.
As I read the Book of Mormon day by day, I felt goodness, substance, and light grow within me—and it was a good feeling, even delicious. I felt more complete. Despite being a very busy teenager involved in many and varied activities (which means I was pretty tired at night), I looked forward to those quiet minutes before going to bed when I would read a chapter. In fact, there were a few times when, after reading the book and praying, I would hold it to me as I fell asleep—I loved what I was feeling from reading the book.
Early one gray, drizzly Seattle morning, our seminary teacher led us in a discussion based on Alma 32. Sister Kopeinig (a wonderful teacher who left an indelible mark on my soul) may not remember the discussion that morning and may even have felt it had little effect (some of us were a bit bleary-eyed at that hour), but I remember well the realization that came to me as we read:
“Now, we will compare the word unto a seed. Now, if ye give place, that a seed may be planted in your heart, behold, if it be a true seed, or a good seed, if ye do not cast it out by your unbelief, that ye will resist the Spirit of the Lord, behold, it will begin to swell within your breasts; and when you feel these swelling motions, ye will begin to say within yourselves—It must needs be that this is a good seed, or that the word is good, for it beginneth to enlarge my soul; yea, it beginneth to enlighten my understanding, yea, it beginneth to be delicious to me” (Alma 32:28).
As we read this passage in class, I leaned back and thought, “This is the perfect description of what I’m experiencing with the Book of Mormon itself!”
As that year went on, I completed my personal reading of the Book of Mormon. I was changed for the better because I had read, pondered, and allowed it to influence how I lived. As I knelt by my bedside the night that I finished the book, I already knew it was true. The response to my prayerful inquiry was as quiet, still, gentle—and real—as had been my experience as I had read the Book of Mormon. Again, I felt the swelling motion within that was delicious to my soul. I realized that the book had enlarged and enlightened my very being. I felt a quiet, settling confirmation: “Yes, as you know, it’s true.” Ever since then, hardly a day has gone by that I have not read from the Book of Mormon. I love the book with a passion. It is a part of my daily life.

Rehearsing wasn’t always easy. Brittany was cast in the “Burning of the Prophet Abinadi” scene. She played a page in King Noah’s court. It was an important part because she was responsible for handing fans to all of King Noah’s courtiers as they came onstage. But once she herself was onstage, she didn’t have much to do but stand beside King Noah’s throne. Rehearsals lasted up to three hours and sometimes were hot and boring, but she still wouldn’t trade being in the pageant for any other vacation.

The Holy Ghost recently helped Camila make an important decision about her standards. “I wanted to dance in a presentation,” she says, “but the costumes all the girls were wearing were short skirts. I talked with my mother, and she said to pray about it and choose the right. I thought a lot about it and talked with my dance teacher. She said I could wear a longer skirt, and my grandmother made me one. As I danced I felt happy, and I felt the Holy Ghost with me. I was the only girl wearing a longer skirt, but nobody made fun of me. Some of my friends said they were learning from me.”

A sister who was unable to attend church because of some difficult health challenges came to know how sweetly personal God’s covenants are. Because of these unusual circumstances, Aaronic Priesthood holders, at the direction of the bishop, came to her home to administer the sacrament. She knew they would be coming, but she did not anticipate the outpouring of God’s love she would feel as they knelt and blessed the bread and water—just for her. “I’ll never forget when they held the sacrament tray with one piece of bread and then one small cup of water on it. As I took the sacred emblems, I felt such a personal connection with my Savior. I knew that His Atonement really was for me. I felt of His mercy and His love. In every way, I was renewed and strengthened to meet the challenges that were uniquely mine.”

For thirteen years I was a devoted, “born again” Christian and an equally devoted anti-Mormon. As part of an organized evangelical program, I talked to people in stores, in parks, and in their homes, seeking to share the “good news of the gospel.”
Many of those people I encountered in my evangelical work were Latter-day Saints. I took every opportunity to tell them that their church was not of God, but was a cult inspired by Satan. I was well-read in anti-Mormon literature, and my heart ached for those “misguided Mormons.” They went about trying to “work” their way to heaven, believing in the words of a self-appointed prophet named Joseph Smith.
I told them again and again that those works didn’t count. Only those people who ask Jesus into their hearts will go to heaven, I said. All others, good and evil, share a fate of agony and eternal separation from God.
“What about those who have never heard of Jesus?” I was always asked. Having no answer, I quietly ignored the question.
After a divorce that was hard for me, I stopped going to church, and although my faith in God and love for him remained, I decided to lay aside the spiritual part of my life for a time. I married an inactive Latter-day Saint who nonetheless possessed an unshakable testimony. We rarely discussed religion, but whenever the subject came up, I made fruitless attempts to show him the error of his beliefs. He quietly listened, but his testimony remained intact. Then, through a family crisis, my heart began to change.
My father-in-law became very ill with cancer, and as death approached, he felt the need to express the importance of the Church to his children. Something about his simple testimony touched my heart, and I decided to find out for myself the truth regarding this church. I began by cross-referencing the scriptures, and found to my surprise that there were no inconsistencies between the Bible and the Book of Mormon. To me, the Bible was the precious word of God. I believed it without question. Could Mormon doctrine possibly be proven within the Bible? I set out to find the answer.
In going through my husband’s Church books, I came across A Marvelous Work and a Wonder by Elder LeGrand Richards. As I read it, I felt as if it had been written for me. I discovered New Testament scriptures regarding baptism for the dead and Christ’s mission during the time prior to his resurrection. I discovered Jesus’ words to Mary Magdalene at the empty tomb: “Touch me not; for I am not yet ascended to my Father.” (John 20:17.) Had he not returned to his Father immediately after his death? But I had used his words to the thief on the cross, “To day shalt thou be with me in paradise” (Luke 23:43) to prove deathbed repentance! I had read these same scriptures countless times before but had never really understood them. Now I realized I had been deceived about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
As I studied and prayed, I began to find answers to the questions I had quietly pushed aside. Finally, I knew that this church was the Savior’s church, and its doctrine was his doctrine. In 1984 I was baptized.
I am grateful the Lord waited so patiently for the moment when my heart would open so that his Spirit would lead me to the truth.

“I have received far too many blessings from just keeping my recommend current to not hold it dear to my heart. Twelve months after my baptism I went to my first and only young single adult convention. I was assigned to a service project at a farm, but at the last minute some spaces opened up on the temple service project. I had my recommend and appropriate clothing with me, so I went and while there I met a friend who introduced me to my future husband by the end of the week. For an assortment of reasons, we couldn’t initially be sealed in the temple, so I didn’t get endowed until later. In following a prompting to go to the temple for my endowment, I was blessed with my first child the very same week. Throughout my pregnancy, I continued to go to the temple every month until my son was born. From that, I was blessed with new friendships in a new ward and a stronger testimony and an understanding of God’s plan. Two months after the birth of my son, the temples closed and I went through some of the greatest trials of my life thus far, but because of what I’ve learned in staying worthy of my recommend and using it often, my faith never failed through my trials. I struggled, I felt weak, but my faith remained steadfast.” —Marie Cranston, Melbourne, Australia

Having overcome her shyness, upon returning from her mission, Salamatu decided to give Zainu a chance and agreed to date him. It did not take her long to realize that Zainu “really wants me in his life. He wants us to make a family. He wants us to be together forever, not only here but in the life to come. He is the man for me!”
When Zainu told Salamatu he wanted to get married, she said, “If you really mean it, you need to go to my people.”
Like many young people, the Deens faced some big obstacles when thinking about marriage. Zainu explained, “One thing that makes us in Africa find it difficult to get married is that young people think about the cost of living. No job, nothing that can bring in income. Some of us, some of the young people in the church, have the mentality, ‘How can I get married? How can I feed my family? Where can I get money? Where can I start?’”
Zainu said, “In Africa setting of marriage, people think that before getting married you have to acquire everything. That is the mentality. I must get money first. I must get a house. I must get a car. So those are some of the . . . [barriers] to getting married.”
By the time Salamatu returned from her mission, neither one of them had a job even though Zainu had been looking and volunteering the entire time she was on her mission. They both had taught the principles of marriage and family on their missions. They knew what was right. The obstacles seemed very large.
That is when Zainu took the action he knew from two years of practice on his mission. He told Salamatu, “I want us to pray that I can have a job, any kind of job. Then I think we can proceed.”
He said, “All of a sudden, God heard our cry, and I got a job, a security job!”
The way to marriage seemed to open, but there was still a lot of preparation. As soon as Zainu got a job, Salamatu said, “When they pay you, we must take a small amount of the money, $300,000 Sierra Leones, and we will save it. In fact, you will not save it in your own account. You will open a small account for me so that you won’t have access to take from that money.”
Zainu thought, “$300,000? What can $300,000 Sierra Leones do for marriage? It’s too small.” He continued, “Well, as time goes on, $300,000; $600,000; $900,000; $1,200,000. It is true! It is working! Now we can get married.”
Zainu said that Salamatu was his motivation. When he felt, “We don’t have much,” she told me again, “We do it little by little.”
When Zainu was paid, they worked their plan. They took out a set amount to put into Salamatu’s account. Then they would buy one thing necessary for their future or for their wedding. “We go buy material,” Zainu said. “We buy two yards. We do not have money to buy six yards at once. We go buy two, and we keep it. This is how we do it. Little. Little. Little. Little.”
Just as they both encountered opposition when deciding to serve their missions, so too, the Deens had people questioning their decision to marry, suggesting they should spend their money on things, or they should wait until they had a better job. But Zainu said, “I am obeying commandments. ‘If you love me, keep my commandments’ (John 14:15), and marriage is a commandment. Marriage is ordained of God.”
Salamatu quickly added, “I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them” (1 Nephi 3:7).
She tells her young women that she wants them to go and serve the Lord and then get married. “The gospel blesses families so when you go out there and serve the Lord, the Lord will not only bless you, but even the families you leave behind, they will also receive the blessings.
“I also want to tell those who are struggling to marry that they should not struggle. They should not think about the worldly things that say ‘I have to do this; I have to get everything before I get married. Like me and my husband, we do not have plenty, but we have enough because the Lord is for us. The Lord always provides for us. The Lord always loves us. That is why we are so happy. We are so blessed. We have a handsome son. That is one of the blessings we have.”
Zainu added, “If we serve Him wholeheartedly, then there are blessings, which me and my wife, as a family are experiencing. People are coming now to us, wanting to know our way of living. These are the blessings. The Lord knows our hearts.”
“I want to testify that serving a mission is a good opportunity to serve the Lord with all our heart, might, mind and strength. Even when we return home, the things that we learn on a mission, we should not let them go away. If we apply them in our lives, we will receive a blessing, especially in our marriage. I always know that the Lord loves us. That is why He wants us to have a partner, not only here but even when we return to Him that we will always be happy. We should not be afraid of being married because the Lord, He stands for us wherever we are. If we are having any constraints, He will stand for us,” said Salamatu.
“I testify that marriage is ordained of God. As me and my wife have endeavored to follow the principles and the commandments of the Church, we are receiving the blessings,” finished Zainu.

David Brooks, in an editorial titled “The Moral Bucket List,” developed the concept that there are “two sets of virtues, the résumé virtues and the eulogy virtues. The résumé virtues are the skills you bring to the marketplace. The eulogy virtues are the ones that are talked about at your funeral.”7 Brooks correctly concluded that the eulogy virtues are much more important. This hit home for me personally because I had an experience when I was in my mid-20s that had a profound impact on me. It involved the funerals of two good men that took place only a few days apart. The account is true, but I have changed the names and have purposely been vague about a few of the facts.

I was 25 years old, had graduated from Stanford Law School, and had just started employment with a law firm. I spent my workday world with highly educated people who had amassed significant material possessions. They were kind and on the whole gracious and attractive people.

The Church members I associated with were much more diverse. Most of them had little material wealth. They were wonderful people, and most had meaning in their lives. It was at this juncture that two older, retired men I had known for many years passed away. Their funerals were held only a few days apart, and I traveled to both funerals. I have decided to call one of the men Rich and the other man Faithful. Those two funerals are cemented in my mind because they clarified the significance of the choices all people have before them, especially the young. They also demonstrate the complexity of the distinction between the résumé virtues and the eulogy virtues.

Both Rich and Faithful served missions as young men. By all accounts, they were both dedicated missionaries. After they attended college, their lives began to diverge. Rich married a beautiful woman who over time became less active in the Church. Faithful married an equally beautiful woman who was completely active in the Church. More than any other factor, this decision framed the remaining decisions of their lives. In my experience, when couples remain true and faithful to the Savior and the eternal significance of the family, the eulogy virtues are almost always preserved.

I will now share more about Rich. He had wonderful people skills and cared a great deal about people. He began employment with a major U.S. corporation and ultimately became president of that company. He had a large income and lived in a large, beautiful home set on spacious grounds. That is why I have decided to call him Rich. It would be fair to say that his career choices were not just good or better but were the best.

His family and Church choices, however, were not so good. He was a good man and did not engage in personal choices that were in and of themselves evil, but his family choices and influence on his children focused almost exclusively on education and employment, essentially the résumé virtues that are so valued in the marketplace. His sons also embarked on excellent careers. They did not, however, remain active in the Church, and they married young women who were not members. I am not aware of all the facts about his sons, but in each case these marriages ended in divorce.

Rich and his wife also became less active. They were primarily involved in high-profile social and community activities. He always considered himself LDS and was proud of his mission, but he did not attend church. He would, from time to time, contribute to Church building projects and assist LDS members in their careers. Furthermore, he was an influence for honesty, integrity, and goodwill in all the positions he held.

His funeral was held at a nondenominational chapel at the cemetery. Many top executives and dignitaries attended the funeral, including the governor of the state where he lived. Except for his children, grandchildren, and me, everyone attending was over the age of 50. It was, on the whole, a somber funeral. Basic principles of the plan of happiness were not taught, and little was said of Jesus Christ. Rich’s life was based almost exclusively on résumé virtues.

Faithful’s employment decisions were far less successful. His initial effort at a small independent business was thwarted when the business burned and he lost everything. He subsequently created a small business but could barely make his required payments. He had a small but adequate home. He enjoyed his work and his interaction with people. His career was good and certainly satisfactory but not distinguished or what might be called best. It was not a résumé-virtues career.

His family and Church choices, on the other hand, were absolutely the best. He and his wife were completely active in the Church. He served as called, often as a teacher, attended the temple frequently, and was a faithful priesthood holder. He had wonderful relationships, especially with his large family and his many grandchildren. They were all well educated, but his main emphasis to them was on living a Christlike life. In his retirement, he and his wife served a mission together. Though he faced trials, including the death of a son in World War II, he achieved satisfaction and joy throughout his life because of the purpose and meaning provided by his family and the gospel of Jesus Christ.

His funeral in the ward meetinghouse was large and joyful. People of all ages attended, including large numbers of grandchildren and young people he had served. The plan of happiness was taught, and the Savior was at the center of the service. It was an exemplary Latter-day Saint funeral. The talks were about his character, kindness, concern for others, and faith in and love of the Lord Jesus Christ.

I have indicated that these two funerals came at a defining time for me. I had served a mission, and I loved the Church. I was just starting my career and was becoming impressed with those having material and occupational success. I realized that the choices I was making would define my happiness in this life and determine the legacy I would leave. I also realized the eternal significance of the choices that were before me. It was clear to me that choices have eternal significance. What was most important to me about the lives I just described is that I realized that the most significant choices can be made by everyone, regardless of their talents, abilities, opportunities, or economic circumstances. I realized that for me, my future children, and everyone I would have the opportunity to influence, putting the Savior, my family, and the Church first was essential. Doing so would result in the good life.

Katsumi Nakahara of the Iwamizawa Branch has been a member for a little more than a year. He met the missionaries when they were proselyting on the street. “I did not think it was strange,” he says. “But they were foreigners. So I thought I would go and visit the church. I received a brief lesson. But during that lesson I felt the Holy Ghost. Since then it has been a process of following the Spirit from one step to the next.”

A sister who comes to mind is Sister Caroline Masiliso Sifaya. She, her husband, and their children were baptized in the Lusaka, Zambia branch in 1994. A year later, they were sealed in the Johannesburg South Africa Temple.

Five years later in 1999, I visited Sister Sifaya at the Lusaka, Zambia University Teaching Hospital. She sat next to the bed of her eight-year-old son, Mwini Butala, who was in a critical condition. Mwini had survived an accident which had claimed the life of Sister Sifaya’s husband, Sondo Sifaya, who had been serving as the branch president in Lusaka.

I had traveled from Zimbabwe to console and to give a word of comfort to Sister Sifaya who was serving as the institute of religion instructor. Upon greeting her and extending my deepest sympathy to her for the loss of her husband and for a son who was lying almost lifeless on the bed, she smiled and said, “Brother Dube, I am grateful for the privilege we had as a family to be sealed in the Johannesburg South Africa Temple. The Atonement of Jesus Christ is a great blessing in our lives.”

Sister Sifaya’s reliance on the Atonement of Jesus Christ enabled her to carry on when her burdens seemed too heavy and too intense to bear. She truly depended upon “the merits, and mercy, and grace of the Holy Messiah”2.

Sister Sifaya seemed very confident and hopeful for what lay before her. Like a tree planted near the water, she did not fear when she was faced with almost insurmountable challenges, because she placed her hope in the Lord for strength and deliverance. As a covenant person, the Lord fulfilled His promise to her as He did to Alma and his people: “I will also ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs.”3

Sister Sifaya’s son Mwini died a few years after my hospital visit. She assumed the role of a single parent in the most amazing way. She managed to triple her modest schoolteacher’s income by converting part of her house into a preschool and enrolling children from a nearby community. She worked day and night to ensure that her children got the necessary education in life. She continued serving faithfully in the Church, inspiring the institute students who attended her class to serve missions.

Her children excelled in education, furthering their studies to university level both locally and abroad. Sister Sifaya now has three grandchildren and is currently serving as a stake Primary president in Lusaka. Sister Sifaya’s “leaf [has been] green; . . . neither [has it ceased] from yielding fruit.”4 She has assisted her children to be like a tree planted by the water, and she is doing the same for her grandchildren. Can you imagine what her posterity will be?