Gospel Story Finder

Heber Jeddy Grant was tall, thin, and not very strong. He played baseball with the younger boys because he couldn’t throw the ball very far.
Jeddy wanted to play ball with the boys his own age, so he spent many hours shining boots to earn enough money to buy a baseball.
When Jeddy had earned a dollar, he bought a baseball. Then he practiced countless hours throwing it against his neighbor’s barn.
Finally Jeddy’s skill improved. The boys his own age were impressed with how well he could throw a ball, and they let him play baseball with them.
Eventually Jeddy’s baseball team became the territory champions; they went on to beat the championship teams of California, Colorado, and Wyoming.
Heber Jeddy Grant learned the importance of setting and achieving goals. This ability helped him greatly when he became the seventh President of the Church.

On the evening of October 26, 1973, two missionaries in Kanazawa, Japan, felt an unusual spirit of warmth and peace as they went from house-to-house. They walked into a small garden and rang the buzzer at the Aburantani home.
Two children, Yuka and Tadakatsu, opened the sliding door. They were surprised to see two tall young men there. Tadakatsu ran back into the dining room. “There are strangers at the door,” he cried.
His older sister, Yuka, said quietly, “I think they are Americans.”
The children’s mother went to the door. The missionaries explained they were representing The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and asked if they could tell her family about it. She talked with her husband, and the missionaries were invited to return.
Yuka and Tadakatsu were eager to help their family prepare for baptism.
The wonderful night of baptism finally arrived. Tadakatsu’s dark eyes shone with happiness as he watched his mother and father and sister. Now he is counting the days until he is old enough to be baptized too!

Not long ago I listened at length to a couple who sat across the desk from me. There was bitterness between them. I know that at one time their love was deep and true. But each had developed a habit of speaking of the faults of the other. Unwilling to forgive the kind of mistakes we all make, and unwilling to forget them and live above them with forbearance, they had carped at one another until the love they once knew had been smothered. It had turned to ashes with the decree of a so-called no fault divorce. Now there is only loneliness and recrimination. I am satisfied that had there been even a small measure of repentance and forgiveness, they would still be together, enjoying the companionship that had so richly blessed their earlier years.

Matt, 16, and Camille Baughman, 18, of the Summerville Ward were told by their parents to get together a change of clothes, their scriptures and journal, and a flashlight, in case they had to leave home quickly. Camille said, “It was hard because Mom said we should get two things we wanted to save. At first I wanted to take all my clothes, but then I decided on my violin.”
After the hurricane Matt pitched in to help his father, who as stake president was coordinating relief efforts. Camille saw a side of her brother she had never seen before. “I was impressed,” she said. “He got up early, worked all day, and went to bed exhausted. I thought, ‘Wow, that’s not the brother I knew.’”

As my wife was driving home with our daughter Lycia one Sunday evening, the lights went out. The power went off in the streets and the homes. As they were driving to our home, they noticed they only had the light from the car. Obviously the garage door wouldn’t open and so as they wandered through the heavy blackness to find the front door, they noticed the depressing or heavy effect of the atmosphere. As they entered the house they noticed that without light you could not study, you couldn’t nourish your mind. You were inhibited even though you had candles and flashlights. You were inhibited in doing many things that you would customarily do. They also noted that as the time went on, some three hours, that the house became very chilled because of the cold winds that came through the sliding glass doors. As they had this experience, the realization apparently came to them that the light we require is very essential. Our need and dependency for light in this world is crucial. Oh, how we could realize that the light we need in our spiritual life is even more crucial and more necessary because each of us has decisions constantly, decisions we must make which affect us from an eternal standpoint. We need ongoing, constant direction in order to effectuate the will of our Father in Heaven.

I was recently looking through some back issues of the New Era, and in the March 1985 issue I found an article about Bruce Drennan that was of great interest to me. You see, I once knew him when I lived in California. I was only six when we moved there, and so my memories of him are somewhat limited, but they are crystal clear.
I don’t remember many people from our Ukiah Ward, but Bruce stands out in my mind the most. He loved kids, and we loved him. I guess it was because he always treated everyone like they were someone special. On Sundays he was always there, telling jokes and smiling his special smile. It was always fun to see Bruce, because he would say hi and make you feel welcome and loved. My sister always had a crush on him and followed him everywhere. He didn’t really seem to mind, and called her his girlfriend. It was something to see a young man and a four-year-old together. The four-year-old would be trying to teach him to do “itsy bitsy spider” without getting his fingers tangled up.
Three years later we moved to Utah. My last memory of Bruce was after he had come to BYU. A group of kids from our ward came to dinner. I was practicing the piano, and he listened for a while. Then he started to sing along with my playing. He didn’t notice the mistakes, but just kept singing. When we were done, he said, “You play the piano very well, Jennifer” and gave me a hug. That was the last time I saw him alive, and it is the best memory of him that I have.
Your article was very well done. I’m sure I speak for anyone who was touched by this young man when I say that the article captured him well. Thank you for bringing back some wonderful memories.
Jennifer HillPayson, Utah

When the alarm went off at 5:00 a.m., 17-year-old Yee Mun Lim got out of bed and got ready for the day. She left the house at 5:20 for seminary. At 6:30 a.m. she hurried to school, where she stayed until 7:00 p.m. for classes and co-curricular activities. Then she rushed to the stake center by public transport to practice for the stake musical production.
This was the standard routine of most youth in the Singapore Stake every Friday for five months. Sometimes exhaustion and fatigue set in, but throughout the entire preparation for the musical production, When a Prophet Speaks, there were no complaints or regrets, because the youth felt that the sacrifices they made were worthwhile. “This is the most amazing, awesome, spiritually uplifting, fun-filled, and heart-warming event I ever took part in,” said Yee Mun, of the Singapore Second Ward.
“Our initial purpose was to unite the youth,” said Kate Loreto, the stake Young Women president. “We have youth in eight different wards and from various cultural backgrounds. It’s hard for them to interact with each other. So we thought, why not do a musical to bring them together?”
The leaders chose music inspired by the list of B’s from President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008).1 This music was chosen “so the youth could internalize the lyrics of the songs, feel the Spirit, and live the standards,” said Connie Woo, the general director of the production. “We wanted to involve as many youth as possible,” said Sister Woo. In all, 78 youth performed.
Perhaps not all of the youth came with the same motive at the beginning, but almost all of them kept coming to rehearsals because they enjoyed the friendship, the singing, and, most of all, the Spirit.
After the theme was chosen and practices organized, the youth were assigned to different parts in the production and to different committees that suited their talents.
Ally Chan, age 18, of the Singapore Second Ward volunteered to help on the costume committee. “We needed to choose something that was modest, which was very important, and it had to be economical, youthful, and at the same time look good on the stage,” she said. Not only did she learn how to make decisions based on gospel standards and working with others, but she was also happy about how the youth looked.
Canden Petersen, age 15, of the Singapore First Ward was appointed choir president to help make sure that every practice ran smoothly. His responsibilities included assigning prayers, rallying and herding the youth for practices and games, and announcing seating on the stage. “I was also asked to have some young men help set up and take down the set and oversee the youth in fulfilling their assignments,” he said. “I felt that this responsibility was good for the youth. Hopefully it helped them understand that the Lord calls leaders now, not just from among the adults. They can and should sustain their leaders whatever their age or experience level.”
Kandace Lim, age 18, of the Woodlands Ward helped by taking multiple roles, including being a member of the costume committee, the choreography committee, the photography committee, and also by singing a solo. About her many responsibilities, she said, “It was my mum who inspired me to take on these assignments. She taught me that if there’s a chance to serve, just go for it. If you accept the task and put in your best effort, the Lord will definitely help you get through any difficulties you might face.”
Besides these administrative responsibilities, performers were also needed. John Lee, age 17, of the Clementi Ward was one of the brave souls to volunteer for a solo part. His reason was simple: “I just like to sing! And it makes me feel special.”
Ezra Tadina, age 17, of the Woodlands Ward didn’t feel like he could sing, so he found another way to contribute. “I chose to be involved,” he said, “and I am actually the one who narrated the part about being involved. I feel the message because I know it’s true.”
The practices extended from November 2009 until March 2010. During this time, the youth gathered at the stake center to rehearse every Friday night, except on holidays. The amount of time and commitment required of the youth was no small sacrifice, considering the strenuous schedule of a typical Singaporean youth.
First-year junior college student Olivia Hoe of the Bedok Ward chose to participate because “no matter how life throws mud at me, at the end of the day, it’s the gospel that’s going to keep me standing and pull me through the rubble. Knowing that there’s One who’s looking out for me and loving me completely gives me plenty of comfort, and I think that’s more than enough to get me going every day.”
Many of the youth had other commitments, but they knew that the Lord had laid a path for them. Such was the case of 16-year-old Amanda Ho of the Singapore Second Ward. “I had dance practice, which clashed with some of the rehearsals for this musical, but miraculously the school changed the practice schedule, which enabled me to turn up for the musical rehearsals,” she explained.
After months of practice, the show was finally ready to be performed. Thanks to the teens’ enthusiastic promotion, more than 700 people showed up to watch them at three performances. As the youth shared their message through songs, dance, instrumental music, and their own testimonies, many in the audience were touched.
The group was also challenged to invite nonmember friends to see their performance and to make it a missionary opportunity. Michael Lee, age 18, took this challenge seriously. “I invited six friends to come, and three of my schoolmates and a schoolteacher came,” he said. Their performances especially left an impression on his teacher. “He said that it was a great experience. He even requested a copy of the For the Strength of Youth booklet. He said that he felt the energy through the many hopeful hearts of the youth.”
The leaders’ initial purpose of bringing the youth together was certainly fulfilled. “As I sat there and looked up at each of them during the performance, my heart was filled with joy,” Sister Woo said. “It was not about how good they looked, how well they sang and played, or how well they delivered the narrations. It was not about which school or country they came from. They were one.”
The musical helped many gain a stronger testimony. Some say they hum the tunes and sing the lyrics of the songs wherever they might be, and the message in the songs helps them get through their daily challenges. Many of them became not just good friends but spiritual supports who can lift each other up when the going gets tough. They can help each other stay on the narrow path and grow spiritually.

At least once a year, an environmental inspector visits our school district. Typically, the inspector is cordial and small talk is common. Such was the case with Ryan Pethtel. Ryan noticed pictures of my family in my office, so during each visit we exchanged family stories.
During one visit, Ryan noticed a new wedding picture of my son and his wife at the Washington D.C. Temple. Our conversation turned to the temple, the gospel of Jesus Christ, and the Book of Mormon.
“My wife and I have been looking for a church,” he said. “I hope to give my children what you’ve given yours.”
In preparation for Ryan’s next visit, I wrote my testimony inside a copy of the Book of Mormon and took it to my office. But the next year a different environmental inspector came. Ryan no longer worked for the department. My heart sank, but I kept the book in my office in case I felt impressed to give it to someone else.
A year later, however, I received an email from Ryan to set up a visit. He had returned to his old job. When he arrived, our conversation eventually shifted to the Church. When I handed Ryan the copy of the Book of Mormon, he excitedly flipped through it.
A few months later, I joined my husband, Bill, on a high council speaking assignment in Mannington, West Virginia—Ryan’s hometown. Afterward, a sister in the chapel asked me if I knew Ryan and if I had given him a Book of Mormon. She was Ryan’s wife, Stephanie.
Stephanie said she and Ryan had planned to be baptized the night before, but Ryan was sick. What a blessing in disguise! Bill and I were able to attend their rescheduled baptism three weeks later. At their baptism, Ryan mentioned that the Book of Mormon I had given him remained untouched until his wife contacted the missionaries.
My part in their conversion began with placing a picture of the temple in my office. The picture led to a conversation. The conversation led to the Book of Mormon.
Each act was small, but the consequence was great (see Doctrine and Covenants 64:33). My heart swells with gratitude that my small actions made a big difference and led someone to the Savior.

It wasn’t long ago that I found myself asking the same question. I wasn’t getting good grades, and I rarely made it to class. High school just wasn’t for me, so I thought.
I soon realized, however, that there weren’t many opportunities for a dropout. The doors were closed, and the key was a diploma. I also knew that one day I wanted a wife and children. Minimum wage was not enough to support a family. It would barely support myself. I knew I had to stick it out.
I know people who did drop out so they could have their freedom. Today, they are still at the same jobs, not making much more than minimum wage. They are just now realizing that even freedom has its price.
David John Romrell, 20Rexburg, Idaho

I was raised on a small farm near the town of Cleveland, a rural area in southeastern Utah. In the region there were many stories of Butch Cassidy, a cowboy outlaw, that remained in the conversations of the older generation. As a 12-year-old boy, I, along with seven of my buddies, became intrigued by the stories and planned an adventure. We wanted to ride the trail of Butch Cassidy and explore his hiding places in Cedar Mountain.
After much persuasion, we talked our parents into letting us ride our horses to Cedar Mountain. Two adults would join us—one to ride with us, the other to drive a truck to a designated camping area carrying our bed rolls, food, and hay for the horses.
We arrived at our campsite at dusk and started to prepare for the night. I remembered the instructions given to me by my parents. They had taught me how to tie up my horse to a strong live tree; how to leave the rope just loose enough for him to feed from the ground, but not so loose that the horse might step over the rope. I also remembered them telling me, “Never eat your dinner until your animals have been fed.”
Everyone took care of his own horse before turning his attention to his own needs—everyone, that is, except one. In haste to fix his dinner, my friend Billy tied his horse to a small dead tree and hurried off to the campfire. By the time we finished our duties, it was dark. Billy finished his dinner and then turned his attention to his horse. When he approached his horse in the dark, the horse spooked. Billy then made the fatal mistake of striking a match too close to the horse’s face. The horse reared back and pulled the dead tree from the ground. The tree, attached to the rope, hit the horse, which sent him off on a dead run. I will never forget the sound of that horse running into the darkness and the crashing of the tree he dragged behind him. The noise continued for 10 to 15 seconds, and then there was silence … followed by a loud crash.
One of the adults had run after the horse and was first to reach him. We grabbed our flashlights and followed. After searching in the dark, we found the horse at the bottom of a 50-foot cliff. As long as I live, I will clearly remember watching that horse die.
We were a group of solemn boys as we worked our way up the cliff and returned to camp that night. Each one quickly and quietly bedded down. All that could be heard throughout the night was Billy’s sobbing and the rustling of nervous horses that seemed to sense what had happened. It was a very long night.
That experience became a life-changing moment. As I lay in my bed gazing at the millions of stars in the heavens, the events of the day passed through my mind. I began thinking about the advice my parents had given me as I was growing up. Suddenly it all began to make sense. I had come to a point in my life where I was responsible for my actions. The decisions I was making now not only affected me but those around me. I began to see that the results of my disobedience could be disastrous, especially to those who depended on me. My mother had entrusted me with her treasured horse. How grateful I was that I had been obedient to her instructions.

“Hey, April!” April’s big brother Brad walked into her bedroom with a huge smile on his face. “Ready to get your new racing wheels?” Brad was going to drive April to pick up her wheelchair today.
“Yeah, I guess,” April said. She was glad to be leaving her house at last. She couldn’t believe it had been over two months since her bicycle accident! And the whole time she’d been stuck in a hospital bed in her room.
But she was also nervous about figuring out wheelchairs. She wasn’t allowed to even stand up yet, so she’d need to use one for at least a month. Yuck.
“Maybe we can find one with flames painted on the side,” Brad said. He was still smiling. April tried smiling back, but she still felt sad and a little scared. April prayed silently to feel happier.
The next few hours passed by in a slow, cloudy blur. The people at the medical supply store gave her a boring, plain old black wheelchair. Then they taught her a few things about how to use it. But it was all so complicated. It was so much easier when she could just walk!
Soon they were heading back home. April looked out the car window. It was nice to see big trees and puffy clouds again. But somehow it didn’t make her feel happy like she used to feel before she got hurt.
“Oh, I forgot to mention that I need to buy something at the mall,” Brad said as he turned the car into the mall parking lot. “It shouldn’t take long.”
That seemed strange to April. Why wouldn’t he just go to the mall later on his own?
In the mall parking lot, Brad got the wheelchair out of the car. He pushed April in it for a short way. Then he stopped.
“Ready to give it a go yourself?” Brad asked.
“Um, okay …” April pushed down on the wheels and rolled forward slowly. It was hard!
“This way,” Brad said. “You can do it.” He walked toward the entrance to the mall.
April gripped the wheels uncertainly. She would have to turn the wheelchair. She tried doing what the people at the medical store had taught her, but it took forever.
How was she supposed to get around if she could barely even turn this dumb wheelchair once? Would she ever be her old self again?
Brad held the door open with a mischievous smile. April knew that smile well. What was he planning?
“See that elevator?” Brad said after they got through the doors.
April peered down the long empty hallway in the mall. The elevator was clear at the end.
“Race ya!” Brad said. Then he took off running.
April blinked. Race? How could she race?
But Brad’s laughter sparked something inside her. April started pushing down on her wheels as hard as she could. Soon she was catching up! She couldn’t believe it!
Before she realized it, April started laughing along with Brad. The storefronts passed in a blur as April chased her brother. The whole way they both laughed so hard they could barely breathe.
At the last second, April passed Brad and made it to the elevator first. “I win!” she yelled with a laugh. Brad had probably let her win, but she didn’t mind. She felt great.
“I knew you could do it!” Brad said.
April looked at her big brother’s kind smile. This time she had a smile of her own to match. Brad was right. She could do this. It might not be easy, but she could make this work until she got all the way better.
Thank you, Heavenly Father, she prayed silently. Thank you for giving me such a great family.
“Next time I’ll give you an even bigger head start,” April said. “You’re gonna need it!”

I’ve had a profound hearing loss most of my life and can only understand about 20 percent of what is said at the pulpit during most Church meetings. Occasionally, my deafness makes me feel alone and separate, such as when the congregation laughs at a speaker’s humorous remark but I don’t because I didn’t hear it. And I was not the only one. Older ward members confided to me they also had difficulty hearing.
Sometimes, after struggling to understand a soft-spoken speaker in sacrament meeting or when a Sunday School teacher declares there’s no need to use the microphone because everyone can hear, I wonder why I even go to church when I can hear so little. Wouldn’t my time be better spent at home reading the Come, Follow Me lessons or studying the scriptures?
Still, I wanted to be obedient and continued to attend with my family to renew my baptismal covenants and remember the Savior by partaking of the sacrament. It was always a blessing to feel the Spirit, and I always felt edified by those things I could hear.
One Sunday the high councilor who spoke in sacrament meeting had one of those clear, projecting voices that made it easier to hear. He discussed the New Testament story about the woman who suffered from an issue of blood for 12 years and had faith that she could be healed if she could but reach out and touch Jesus’s robe as He walked by (see Luke 8:43–48).
The speaker then offered a poignant insight that struck me deeply, explaining that because of her condition, this woman would have been considered unclean and most likely would not have been allowed to attend church. For 12 years!
The ramifications of this took my breath away. Although sick, this woman was probably not so unwell that she couldn’t attend church, at least occasionally. But because of the social mores of the times, she was not allowed to attend. What a dreadful trial for a person of faith!
As I pondered the heartache she must have felt at being prohibited from worshipping God with fellow believers because of her physical condition—something over which she had no control—the Spirit opened my eyes to how her situation compared with my own. I was given to understand that although I could not be a full participant, at least I had the privilege of attending church and hearing what I could. This woman had no such choice. I felt ashamed for the times I had briefly considered staying home.
Instantly, God spoke to my heart, letting me know that He didn’t want me to feel guilty. He wanted me to feel grateful—grateful for the privilege of attending church and being strengthened by associating with faithful disciples of Christ. Although I couldn’t hear everything, I could understand some things—and each one blessed my life. There were also special moments when the Spirit helped me understand those things I could not hear.
I felt grateful for the freedom to worship God and enjoy the blessings of going to His house. The Spirit testified to me that it was far, far better for me to be at Church meetings, partake of the sacrament, and learn what I could than not to attend at all.
That day my attitude changed. Instead of feeling downcast at my limitations, peace filled my heart, and I resolved to focus on the blessings of church attendance. I resolved to make a sincere effort to be thankful for what I could hear instead of being discouraged over what I couldn’t.

It was in February of 1976 that they came to Salt Lake City to be the guests of Dave and Chris Boyd. The Boyds did not speak Spanish nor did the Bolivians speak English when they first arrived in Utah. Chris said, “It’s close to a miracle how we have been able to communicate. We’ve been able to work with the time schedules, solve medical problems, and enjoy each other’s company.
They learned English quickly and after only a few months could understand much of what was being said around them. When they played for school children throughout the Salt Lake Valley, they would ask them in English to clap or answer their musical questions in certain parts of the songs. They learned easily to say “Thank you,” “I’m very happy to be here,” and “My name is _____. What is yours?” They also learned to say “I’m hungry!”
They were most homesick for Bolivian food. Chris said that they would graciously eat anything she cooked for them. But they are used to food that has no chemical additives in it, and when they began eating American food, they had a hard time adjusting to it. In Bolivia they eat a lot of vegetables but insist on cooking them. Many Americans eat raw vegetables; Rama Nueve calls it rabbit food.
They make most of their own instruments. The flutist makes his flutes from cane stock. The bell tones he can make are pure and clear and seem even richer than those from flutes of silver. One of the instruments they use is the charango. It is made from an armadillo-type animal, a tatú. The shell is used as the back or sound part of the instrument.
All of the young Bolivians are exciting, accomplished musicians, but not one of them can read printed music. They began playing instruments by ear at a young age. “Many of the youth have a great desire to learn to read music but don’t have access to teachers who know the skills,” Chris said.
They brought seven different costumes with them from South America. They explained that there are 40 or 50 regional costumes in Bolivia. These costumes grew out of early uniforms worn by the Bolivians when they were required by European occupants to wear certain clothes as marks of identification.
When asked what it is like to have six Bolivian youths move in, Chris said: “It is like having brothers and sisters move into your home for a few months. I will really miss them when they’re gone. Their tempo of life has affected my way of living. I’ve had to learn to relax. But on the other hand, their tempo has changed too. They are so busy right now that they hardly have time to watch the sunset.”
During the time they weren’t singing at concerts or benefits of some kind, they were catching up on their sleep or writing letters home. One of the favorite things they learned while they were in Utah was how to roller skate. “It’s a sport we don’t have in La Paz.” It may well be introduced upon their return. They have also learned to swim and dive. Chris said that anything they enter into they do with their whole soul. They have taught others the Bolivian folk dances and want very much to learn how to dance in the American fashion.
From the first week they arrived in Utah they wanted to be involved in a family home evening at least once a week. So, on Monday nights they were invited into homes all over the Salt Lake Valley and enjoyed American family home evenings. But on Sunday nights they decided to get together and take turns giving the lesson to their own group. They made popcorn and usually ended the evening singing LDS hymns in Spanish.
They like Utah and its people. The thing they noticed most was the layout of the Utah communities where most of the streets run directly east and west or north and south. “In Bolivia,” Luis said, “the telephone books are full of street names—no numbers. A taxi driver knows how to get to any address. Some streets wind up into the mountains, and it’s really easy for a stranger to get lost. Here, you just figure out the numbering system, and you can find your way around. It’s so organized. I like that.”
On May 26, 1976, Rodolfo Villalba left Salt Lake City to return home to Bolivia as a full-time missionary for the Church. “My heart is full of beautiful things I want to share with my people,” he said. After his mission he wants to come back to Utah and Brigham Young University; then he will return again to Bolivia to become a productive member of his community.
Rodolfo Murilla also returned to Bolivia at the end of May—there was a rumor that he had someone special waiting for him. The other four, Raul, Luis, Elizabeth, and Lidia, stayed in the U.S. to attend Brigham Young University. They are serious about becoming good representatives of Bolivia. After their education, they all say they want to go back to help their homeland. Lidia wants to study sociology. Luis wants to go into some technical field. Raul feels that it is a great opportunity, “one in a lifetime, to study in another country. And to do it in the Church university is really something!” His father is not a member but wants the best opportunities for his son. Raul is the oldest of the children in his family, and his father wants him to set a good example for his younger brothers and sisters.
When asked what was the greatest experience they had while they were traveling, they immediately replied, “Meeting President Kimball.” On April 26 in the Church Office Building, the group was introduced to President Kimball. They spent time speaking with him through an interpreter. “It was the highlight of my life,” said Elizabeth. “I’ll remember that over everything else. It was a privilege and a humbling honor.”
Each of the youth has a vibrant testimony of the gospel and is aware every moment of the need to be a good example of Church membership. Every concert they gave while in Utah was closed by singing the simple song “I Am a Child of God.” They sang it first in Spanish and then in English. They said it was how they could bear their testimony so that everyone could understand.

Whenever I have been in the hospital someone in my family has been with me almost constantly, even when I was in the Primary Children’s Hospital in Salt Lake City. (My home is in Provo, about 45 miles away.) My mother even gave up going on a free cruise that my father was directing so that she could be with me while I was recuperating from one operation.
My mother is always here, 24 hours a day, for whatever I need. Whether it’s to rush me to the doctor or just comfort my sorrows, I always know she is near. It would be very difficult for me to try to get through a day without her loving care.

The lake’s water stays at an almost constant temperature of 51º F (11º C); that’s pretty brisk for swimming—downright cold for a baptism. But it was in Lake Titicaca that Roberto Carlos Condori Pachuri, 16, was baptized last year. Sometimes the village doesn’t have enough water to fill the font at the meetinghouse in El Alto, Bolivia, so they go to the lake. Roberto Carlos remembers his baptism well, but it’s not because of the water. It’s because of the warm spirit he felt when he became a member of the Church.
Roberto Carlos was introduced to the Church by his friend José Luís Mamani Kari, 15. “I came to seminary,” says Roberto Carlos. “It was the first time I entered a Church building, and I was a little scared.” But he quickly found out he was welcome. In fact, usually 15 of the 30 or so youth who attend seminary each week are not Church members. Youth from the Batallas Branch, Titicaca Bolivia District, attend seminary on Thursday evenings and study at home during the week.
Roberto Carlos wanted to attend seminary for all these reasons. “I liked the things I was learning, and I have lots of friends here,” he says. “We play soccer or volleyball after class.” It was at seminary and in meeting with the elders that he learned about ancient prophets, a living prophet today, and Christ’s visit to the Americas. It was through learning the truths of the gospel that Roberto Carlos joined the Church.
President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) had a motto to remind us of our duties as member missionaries: “Do it!” He promised that as we testified of the Restoration we would be blessed. José Luís knows this is true.
“It felt good,” says José Luís, to see Roberto Carlos accept the gospel. “I wanted to share my testimony, so I did.”

Seminary students in the combined early-morning classes of the Gilmer First, Second, and Third wards, Gilmer Texas Stake, accepted the challenge to think, speak, dress, and act like a missionary every day for a week.
The challenge was issued by the full-time missionaries. And the students were challenged to mark and place a Book of Mormon with one of their friends during the week. Commitment sheets were distributed and signed. At first, some of the students were hesitant to commit themselves for fear of the reaction of nonmember friends. Instead, their friends ended up encouraging them.
One student reported about the experience, “I felt at first that I would be embarrassed, but after I started, I found I really didn’t mind.”
Another student, an athlete who at first was concerned about his image at school, wrote, “I first thought this was nonsense, but listening to the missionaries changed my mind. I wanted to aid them in the work of the Lord.”
One of the seminary instructors said, “For the first time, many of them realized the influence they can exert on their friends. It did them good to see they can be positive influences if they want to be.”
The project did not go unnoticed by school faculty. Other students began dressing up when the LDS youth did.
The feelings were best summarized by Samantha Bowers. She said, “The feeling of love and togetherness I have had for everyone this week has been so special. It is a feeling and experience I will never forget.”

The young men and women also spoke of activities they enjoy together—excursions to a nearby river, theater productions, costume parties, outings on the snowy slopes of the Sierra Nevadas, and jaunts over the mountains to sunny Mediterranean beaches. Sometimes they also visit the royal chapel of the cathedral where Ferdinand and Isabel lie in sumptuous tombs. Here also repose their daughter Juana the Crazy and her husband Felipe the Handsome. Theirs is one of the saddest and most bizarre tales in Spanish history. When Juana’s unfaithful husband died young, the grief-stricken queen became convinced that she was to be the recipient of a great miracle. If she had enough faith, her husband could be brought back to life. For three years she traveled around Spain with his coffin by her side, trying to find the holy spot where the miracle would happen. From time to time she would have the coffin opened to check Felipe’s progress, and every time the body was more hopelessly decomposed. Finally she allowed it to be buried, but hope was not yet dead in her. She shut herself up in a nearby monastery to await the wonderful event. She was later declared insane by her son Carlos V, who took the reigns of government from her and made her a permanent prisoner in the monastery. She died there many years later. Now Juana and Felipe and Ferdinand and Isabel all lie together in honored splendor under carven stone, enjoying the prerogatives of royalty to whatever extent the dead can enjoy them, while time rots their banners and tarnishes their splendid armor.

In Australia, when players turn 20, they are old enough to play professionally in an adult league. Even when Will was 18, offers came in left and right. He was a prime recruit. One team offered him a contract worth 1.5 million Australian dollars—an offer not made often to players his age. But that wasn’t what Will saw in his immediate future. Will had decided to serve a mission.
When Will had to announce whether he was going to serve a mission or accept a rugby league contract, the decision was easy for him. “I set a mission in my mind and heart while I was in my youth, and I promised myself that I wouldn’t let the worldly desires take over me,” he says.
The world may ask, What about the money? the contracts? getting to play rugby professionally—his lifelong dream? How would his life have been different had he accepted a professional contract? “It would have helped out my family financially. It would have set my future as well for the next few years,” he admits.
So why didn’t he accept the offer? “A mission is something the Lord requires of me, of young males in the Church,” he says. “It’s a way to say thanks to the Lord for everything He has done for me in my 19 years here on earth. And at the end of the day, I don’t think I would have been as happy if I had stayed. I made the choice to serve a mission because footy will always be there.”

I grew up in a city near Seattle, Washington, and was not a member of the Church. When I was 11, I joined a local ballroom dance team that several of my friends were on. The team had started as a youth activity for Latter-day Saints, but it was so popular the instructors kept it going. I didn’t know much about the Church, but the instructors and other youth were so welcoming that I didn’t care.
My friends invited me to Mutual activities and weekend Church dances. I began to notice something interesting about them: they were always smiling. They were positive, encouraging, and enthusiastic about any opportunity that arose. They had joy that I had never felt.
I wanted to know what made them so happy. During six years of careful observation I learned some interesting things. My friends jumped at the opportunity to help and serve those around them. They never judged their peers for the way they looked, talked, or acted—they accepted everyone. My friends believed in speaking cleanly, acting appropriately, and dressing modestly. They valued their parents and siblings as the most important people in their lives. And most important, my friends had firm testimonies of Jesus Christ that strengthened them in difficult times.
After high school graduation, I said good-bye to these friends and started college in New York City. It took only two weeks for me to desperately miss what I now know was the Spirit I felt at Church activities and dance classes with my friends. I looked up the closest ward on LDS.org and then walked to the meetinghouse the following Sunday. I met the missionaries and began learning from them.
When the missionaries taught me about Joseph Smith, I knew instantly through the Spirit that his experience was true. Then, when they explained Jesus Christ’s sacrifice and how He atoned for us, my heart was filled with gratitude for my Savior and His love for me. Six weeks later, I was baptized and confirmed a member of the Church.
I owe my introduction to the Church to my friends who were so kind and welcoming. They didn’t allow their standards to slip when pressure was strong or their decisions were unpopular. Their testimonies were firm and unwavering. They held true to their faith and showed me what it meant to truly live the gospel of Jesus Christ.
I know the importance of always living my standards. Both members and nonmembers need strong examples of friends who refuse to lower their standards. Even when I think no one is paying attention, I will try to never waver. You never know who is looking at your example.

In 1 Kings 3:9, King Solomon asks for 'an understanding heart.' This is a gift and virtue that is comes with much effort and time. A few years ago my wife Ligia asked us if would please, please clean up the kitchen while she was at Relief Society. We readily agreed and away she went content that she would come home to a spotless kitchen; dishes washed, counter cleaned, floor swept and if she was lucky maybe even mopped. As I prepared the dishwater my daughter yells out that a particular movie had just came on. We had both read the book and had a high interest in this movie. We hit upon a plan: since mom would be gone at least two hours we would wash the dishes during the long commercial breaks. In two hours we would have the kitchen finished, the movie watched and a happy mommy.

For whatever the reasons, that now escape me, something went wrong. We were only half way through the dishes when we saw the headlights coming on to the driveway Liz and I looked at each other like the proverbial "deer in the headlights." I think she said something like "we're toast." We made a mad dash to finish up the dishes and were fully engaged when she walked in. We were full of feeble excuses but they could not wash away the look of disappointment on her face. We still had not finished the dishes at 10:00pm that night. In one of my brighter and more insightful moments I said, "You're not upset about a few dirty dishes are you?" And with tender eyes she said, "It is not about the dishes."

Proverbs 2:2: "So that thou incline thine ear unto wisdom and apply thine heart to understanding." In another incident a few years ago while I was driving, I complained to my daughter that she had changed all of the radio stations in the car. She had removed my favorite station that played all the old songs. She mocked my music and ridiculed its simplicity. I finally found the station and we started to listen, I told here this particular song came out when she was in kindergarten, the next song came out when I was dating her mother, and the next song came out when I graduated from college. I admitted the songs were dumb, but I told her, it's not about the songs.

It is not only what it is but what it means. It is not about dirty dishes but respecting and honoring the requests of a love one. It is not about the simple little songs but what they mean to me as audible milestones in my life. And the meanings come from the heart. When you come to comprehend the meaning, you understand the heart and you grow in learning and wisdom.