Gospel Story Finder

When the call came to be a mission president, there was no question about his accepting it. But none of the family realized how profound would be the change it would bring in their lives. Becoming a mission president required him to give up a good job, and his daughters were concerned about that. As the time neared for him to be released, in July of 1981, one of them asked him several times where he planned to work afterward. He had no answer, except that he was not worrying about it.

Then, on 16 March 1981, there was a telephone call from President Spencer W. Kimball in Salt Lake City. The prophet asked how things were in the mission, and asked about the welfare of Elder Abrea and his family. But “I didn’t think he had called me just to see how I was,” Elder Abrea says, smiling. Then President Kimball issued the call to the First Quorum of the Seventy, as well as to the presidency of the temple that was to be built in Buenos Aires. He talked to Sister Abrea and called her to be the first matron of that temple.

Suddenly, everything about the Abreas’ life had changed. Elder Abrea remembers that President Kimball told him on the telephone that day, “You will never finish your mission. This mission is for the rest of your life.” He was sustained a member of the quorum 4 April 1981, and moved easily into full-time service as a way of life.

How does a man who is so dedicated relax? “My only hobby is to work in the Church,” Elder Abrea replies. When there is an opportunity, he enjoys watching soccer, a game he used to play on high school and university teams. (Claudia notes that he also used to make a creditable contribution as a member of Church basketball teams.) “I like to read. I like to talk to people. I like to be with people.”

Elder Abrea undoubtedly has the opportunity to be with many people as temple president. The Buenos Aires urban area includes approximately eleven million residents, more than a third of Argentina’s population. His wife and daughters recall the pleasure of living in Salt Lake City, a “small city” where most people they meet are members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

It is time for more Argentines to become Latter-day Saints, Elder Abrea says. Many are better prepared than ever before to hear the gospel message because of the growth of the Church and the building of the temple in their country. Sister Abrea notes that the Church has become well enough established in Argentina for its influence to be felt over decades; her nephew represents the fourth generation of Church members in his family. Elder Abrea says Church growth has accelerated in his native country during the past fifteen or twenty years.

“The Church has the great respect of the government and the people. They respect the members. They don’t know the doctrine, but they can see how the Mormon people act, how they live. I think that example of the people of the Church is the best proselyting tool we have.”

In fact, he says, people throughout South America are now much more prepared to hear and accept the gospel. “I think the hand of the Lord is at this moment on those countries. We have more missionaries working. More local members of the Church are doing missionary work.” Handling rapid growth is one of the Church’s biggest challenges in South America. But that very growth makes Latter-day Saints more visible and gives them more influence.

When he was fifteen, reflects Elder Abrea, “the only temple I heard about was in Salt Lake City. I couldn’t imagine a temple in my country.” But the House of the Lord that is there now is a symbol of the progress being made in Argentina, and throughout South America. So, too, he says, are the rising attendance figures; in some areas, there is a 75 percent activity rate for Melchizedek priesthood holders.

“I am a witness of the latter-day miracles,” Elder Abrea affirms. “We need to look at what the Church is doing with the eyes of faith. There are so many miracles being done in South America.” Members who look beyond the routine affairs of the organization will see the hand of God at work.

He speaks quietly, but firmly. He is back in South America to work. With Elder Abrea, and South Americans like him, laboring under the Lord’s direction, one expects that the Church will continue to experience many more miracles of growth and spirituality.

In early 2020, within a day of each other, Gordon Matenga and Brandt Shortland were appointed district court judges for their respective New Zealand regions.
Both men are of indigenous Maori heritage and both had also served as acting chief coroners, but these are only some of the many parallels in their lives. It turns out, Gordon Matenga and Brandt Shortland are longtime friends with so much more in common.
They are both members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and have known each other since they attended Church College of New Zealand (CCNZ).
“I lived in Dinsdale, Hamilton . . . so I was a day student since 1977,” Gordon recalls. Brandt, who is a year older, enrolled in 1978. “That’s when we first got to know each other.”
It was a teacher at CCNZ, Brother Jim Kingi, who first planted the seed in Gordon’s mind that law could be a career for him. He didn’t know then that Brandt would eventually choose a similar path.
In his final year, each was elected CCNZ’s student body president, Brandt in 1980 and Gordon in 1981. They went on to serve full-time missions for the Church in Australia—Brandt in Perth and Gordon in Brisbane.
After his mission, Brandt enrolled at Waikato University to study social sciences. When Gordon returned, he signed up for pre-law at Waikato, where he and Brandt did a Maori paper together.
From there, Brandt gained a law degree at Victoria University, and Gordon finished his studies at the University of Auckland. They reunited in Hamilton in the early stages of their respective law careers.
The parallels continued.
In 1996, Gordon became the first Maori coroner in New Zealand, and a decade later, he was appointed full-time coroner for both the Waikato and Bay of Plenty regions. That same year, 2007, Brandt left a thriving law practice in Hamilton to accept his own full-time coroners’ role in the Te Tai Tokerau (Northland) region.
As coroners, they’ve each had to “manage the impact of dealing with death on a daily basis,” Brandt says. “On top of that . . . dealing with grieving whanau (families) in the rawest of times is a tough ask.” He coped by keeping himself physically fit and attending church regularly. “I have been lucky,” he adds, “with a whanau that keep my feet on the ground.”
Gordon remembers a difficult call regarding a 3-year-old who had drowned in a paddling pool. “I immediately went outside, emptied out [my own child’s] paddling pool and put it away.” But Gordon says it was only when the details of a case mirrored his own life somehow that it could affect him this way. “Otherwise, I didn’t find it that difficult . . . because of our knowledge of the plan of salvation. I knew that death is a part of life.”
Over the years, both have also served in various Church leadership roles. When they became district court judges, each had to be released as the first counsellor in his respective stake presidency.
“Everyone is entitled to be equal before the law,” says Gordon, “. . . to be represented.” Brandt says it’s about balancing human compassion with the requirements of the law. “I’d like to be remembered for being fair and respectful to all who appeared in front of me.”
These days, the friends don’t get to see each other as often as they’d like, but they continue to appreciate and support each other from afar. “Brandt has an uncanny ability. . .to remember people’s names,” Gordon says, “and he can talk to anyone . . . people warm to him. I admire that because it’s not one of my strengths.”
“[Gordon] has always been calm and measured in . . . all that he does,” Brandt says. “He has been a faithful servant. He has outlasted the trials that should have taken his life.” On top of all that, Brandt adds, “He is a great musician who loves to sing.”

Every member a missionary. “Sure, I want to be a missionary but I’m embarrassed.”
“It’s hard to do.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“I don’t want to force the gospel on others.”
So, what would you think of a simple approach that allowed you to introduce scores of friends and acquaintances to the Church or gospel principles—while you are doing your school work?
Karen and Susan Jacobs of Walnut Creek, California, found it fun and rewarding. It started when Karen was in the fifth grade at the American School in Copenhagen, Denmark. She was looking for a subject for a rather ambitious American history report. The teacher called for footnotes, bibliography, note cards, and oral reports—everything. Her biggest challenge was to choose a subject. Her parents suggested that she do her report on the Mormon trek westward.
“Why not?” she said.
Once started it was an easier topic to write on than most, with all that help at home, her interest, and her background on the subject from Primary and Sunday School.
Few in the class knew much about the Mormons, and the oral report, filled with interest-raising points, created a lively discussion for months afterwards. She got an A grade too!
Once they discovered the approach, the Jacobs sisters used it, with variations, on numerous occasions. For example, eighth-grader Susan created interest in a science lecture on the effects of smoking by cutting a calf’s heart in class (she had been taught where to cut and how the heart worked by George Washington University medical student Milo Andrus, who also supplied surgical gloves and scalpel). Such a graphic presentation by a petite girl made quite an impression on the class—and they got a strong Word-of-Wisdom explanation at the same time. The grade was A!
The heart lesson was so well accepted that Karen used a calf’s brain in her science fair presentation on the effects of narcotic drugs and won a prize. Again, she included an easy-to-give, easy-to-understand-and-accept explanation on one phase of the Lord’s law of health.
As an eleventh-grader (in a school system that has 12 grades) at Washington-Lee High School in Arlington, Virginia, Karen was very angry to find a derogatory portrayal of the Prophet Joseph and the Church in her history book. It described Joseph Smith as a farmer who moved from place to place digging for buried treasure. She pointed out the inaccuracies to her teacher who responded by asking if she would like to give a class presentation on early Church history. Karen was afraid but accepted. She got out her fifth-grade report. With the addition of the Joseph Smith story and a few other items, it was just the right thing. As it turned out it took the whole class period. The teacher right away asked Karen to repeat the report in his afternoon class. There were dozens of thoughtful questions which led to the missionaries being invited to explain more.
Although there were only three LDS seniors in her graduating class of 800, Karen’s senior government class was given the privilege of hearing four oral presentations on Church subjects. Karen spoke on the United Order, Mike Miller on the nutritional aspects of the Word of Wisdom, and Mark Forsyth on Church government. The bonus came when a nonmember friend, impressed by her visit made prior to the dedication of the Washington Temple, and with help from her LDS friends, reported on the Mormons as temple builders.
The willingness of Karen, Susan, and their friends to try this approach had wide-reaching effects. Virtually everyone in the school knew them as the Mormons. Located in a major suburb of Washington, D.C., the school was largely composed of children of foreign diplomats, congressmen, and other military and government officials; yet, the school was full of drug users, crude language, immorality, nonexistent dress standards, and hundreds of students without fixed standards or ideals. But the tiny LDS group was recognized and respected by teachers and students alike for what they believed in. None was treated with derision or given any trouble. In fact, it was most helpful in avoiding unwholesome activities to be able to say, “Remember, that’s not something Mormons do.”
Perhaps it was due in part to this early willingness to dig into gospel subjects and share LDS teachings that today Karen is taking time out from her studies in the Brigham Young University honor program to serve a mission to Spain and Susan has only a few months to wait for her mission call.
A great prophet of the Lord called on every member to be a missionary. Can you imagine the impact on teachers and students if every LDS student were to write or give just one report each year on the Church? Even in areas of heavy Church membership, many nonmembers have never been given real exposure to our teachings. What easier way to lengthen your stride and please President Kimball? Try it. Or to quote that motto in our beloved prophet’s office, “Do it!”

Another missionary, who served in Colorado, USA, was sent home from his mission for disciplinary reasons and excommunicated from the Church, but he was later rebaptized. “Coming home was hard,” he says. “I felt lost and empty. At times, the most difficult part of coming home was [finding] the motivation to keep going to church, reading the scriptures, and praying. The simple things were the hardest.”

But he found strength in the support of friends and family and in working to repent.

“Setting goals, meeting with my bishop, and going to the temple when I was worthy were keys in being able to come closer to my Heavenly Father,” he adds. “I remember times when I couldn’t meet with my bishop or accomplish some goals; the adversary was always right there, tempting me.”

His recovery was made possible by “always remembering that I have a Heavenly Father who loves me and wants me to be happy. Having a testimony of the Savior’s Atonement and of repentance, we can always come closer to God no matter how distant we might feel.”

“Looking back on my mission,” he continues, referring to the months he served before the events that led to his being sent home, “I still feel like it was one of the best experiences I’ve ever had. I learned a lot, and although it didn’t turn out the way I had planned, I was still able to see lives change because of the gospel. I made some mistakes, but my testimony has grown so much more as I’ve striven to repent and keep moving forward.”

He wants others who returned early because of their choices to know that “the world isn’t over. Coming home is a first step toward repentance. Once you go through this process of repentance, you will have gained so much. That heavy burden will be lifted. There is no better feeling than knowing you are in the right in the sight of God.”

“Just love them,” adds the missionary who served in Colorado. “Encourage them to always remember the atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ.”

Darla’s mittens and boots had barely dried when she sat down on the rug to put them back on. She could hardly wait to go sledding again!
Sledding in the park with her friends was Darla’s favorite thing about winter. The round, snowy hills were perfect for sledding.
But now that Darla and her friends were getting older, they wanted to try the bigger hills at the park instead. They were ready for The Hill. It was the biggest, slipperiest hill in the whole park. And for Darla, it was also off-limits.
“I’ve already heard of at least two kids getting hurt on that hill this year,” Mom said when Darla asked to go sledding on The Hill. “That’s why one of our family rules is that we don’t sled on it.”
When The Hill got icy, sleds got harder to control. Kids crashed into the fence at the bottom and got hurt.
“But, Mom, by the time you get to the bottom, you’re going so slow you can just roll off before you get to the fence,” Darla said.
But Mom wasn’t changing her mind.
Darla headed outside to meet up with her friends.
“Let’s go down The Hill!” Sasha said.
Darla’s stomach squirmed. “How about we just stay on the small hills?” she said. “My mom says I can’t go down that one.”
“Why not? The other hills are too boring,” said Emily. She started toward The Hill. “Come on.”
Darla looked up at The Hill. It really did look fun. And she’d be careful! But then she looked down at the fence at the bottom. Darla sighed. She knew Mom wanted her to be safe.
Sasha and Emily were already walking to The Hill. “I guess I’d better head home,” Darla called after them.
“OK,” Sasha called back. “But you’re missing out!”
Maybe she was missing out, Darla thought as she dragged her sled home.
“What happened?” Mom asked when Darla walked back inside.
“Sasha and Emily wanted to sled down The Hill,” she said with a frown. “I told them I couldn’t, and I asked them to stay on the smaller hills. But they still went, so I came home.”
Mom hugged Darla. “Thanks for being obedient,” she said. “I bet that was hard.”
Darla’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah. I was really excited to go sledding.”
“I know,” Mom said. “Obeying family rules isn’t always easy, but I’m really proud of you for choosing the right. I bet you were listening to the Holy Ghost.”
Darla nodded. She did feel good about her choice, even though it was hard.
Mom’s words helped warm her up inside. And that reminded her. “How about some hot chocolate? Maybe we can invite Sasha and Emily over for some when they get back!”

My younger brother is silly, has a great imagination, and cares about others. He is one of my biggest fans when I perform on stage. He also has some special needs. He is very small for his age and struggles with reading, writing, talking, and sometimes understanding others. He is also deaf.
One day at play practice, I walked up the stairs to get to the stage. I heard someone say something mean about kids with disabilities. Everyone started to joke and laugh about it.
I know they didn’t mean to hurt my feelings, but I got really sad and ran to find a place to hide. As I was sitting in my hiding spot, a grown-up sat by me and started to talk to me about the play. I started to feel better.
When it was time to go home, I told my mom what happened. She told me that it’s OK to walk away from something that makes me feel bad and that it’s OK to talk to a grown-up about my feelings.
Sometimes people don’t understand how it feels to have special needs or to know someone who has special needs. I want to be an example of love and kindness.

I straightened up in my seat when I heard the topic of the next speaker: why the Mormon Church is wrong and why Mormons are hypocritical haters. During the speech, I felt my cheeks burn, and shock and betrayal settled within my chest. How could my very own friends, knowing I was a Latter-day Saint, choose to say slanderous remarks in front of my entire English class?
After the bell rang, I was approached by the speaker and some of my other friends. With the Spirit burning inside me, I told them what had been said was wrong and that the Church doesn’t hate people who don’t live our beliefs. In return, they bombarded me with false statements and accusations. I felt alone. I thought, “How is it fair that when I am living what I know to be true, I must be persecuted?”
When I got home from school that day, I saw an email from my grandmother. In it she told me to look up Matthew 5:11–14. With tears in my eyes, I read: “Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake. Rejoice, and be exceedingly glad: for great is your reward in heaven: for so persecuted they the prophets which were before you. … Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on an hill cannot be hid.”
The Holy Ghost filled my heart as I read those words. I know that persecution will strengthen our testimonies, and I know that the blessings in heaven will be well worth the pain we go through here on earth. The Savior made it possible for us to find peace when we are being persecuted for living His gospel, and for that I’m truly grateful.

Now, in 2018, after four years, Heavenly Father blessed us to enter His house, this time it was Taipei Taiwan Temple.
I was doing the temple work for my uncle who had died of cancer. When I was doing the baptism for him, I was listening to the blessings which he would receive through this temple ordinance. I was so happy and I recognized what the temple president told me in 2014.
I got my answer. It has taken me four years to understand by visiting the temple for the second time.

Presidents Brigham Young and Heber C. Kimball tried to discourage Thomas B. Marsh’s murmuring, but to no avail. A repentant Brother Marsh later said of that time:
“I must have lost the Spirit of the Lord out of my heart. …
“I became jealous of the Prophet … and overlooked everything that was right, and spent all my time in looking for the evil; … I thought I saw a beam in Brother Joseph’s eye, but it was nothing but a mote, and my own eye was filled with the beam; … I got mad and I wanted everybody else to be mad. I talked with Brother Brigham Young and Brother Heber C. Kimball, and I wanted them to be mad like myself; and I saw they were not mad, and I got madder still because they were not. Brother Brigham Young, with a cautious look, said, ‘Are you the leader of the Church, Brother Thomas?’ I answered ‘No.’ ‘Well then,’ said he, ‘why do you not let that alone?’”

One such family was left by the father when the youngest child was four months old. It was a traumatic time with a difficult divorce, but the courageous mother was full of faith and determined that she would do everything she could to succeed as a single parent.
She found, as many do, that the gospel, when translated into action, not only provides a key to solving many welfare problems but it can also prevent them. Difficulties that could lead to dependency can be resolved and bring, instead, strength and happiness.
This mother gathered her children about her and explained their situation. There were back payments due on the house, current bills of every sort, and no income. They could turn to others for help; but if they were willing to work together as a family, she thought they could keep their house and make it, once more, a happy home. They were willing. Every child who was old enough found a way to help earn some money. They cut lawns, delivered papers, tended babies, collected aluminum cans, did housework. One of the older children took the responsibility for the gas bill, another for the lights; the mother put her earnings toward the house payments. They limited other spending to bare necessities.
In time, the house payments were caught up. They were able to meet their other obligations and actually invest in some small, inexpensive properties they could fix up to generate income. This enabled the mother to be at home. With these ends achieved, the children no longer needed to contribute all their earnings to the family’s physical requirements. With freedom from financial threat, the mother now suggested to her children that if they wanted to continue to work they could attend college, go on missions, and even travel and see the world together. The children did continue to earn and save their money. They learned the value of work and of family, and they have accompanied their mother to places others only dream of.
All this has been done while fulfilling their Church obligations. They are quick to testify that the greatest reward they have received from the experiences of the past few years has been their spiritual growth. Putting such principles as love, work, service, self-reliance, and consecration into practice has brought to this family the dignity of accomplishment, a unity of purpose, and a closeness to one another and to the Lord that is immediately apparent when one is in their company.

When Lynn and Dorothea Shawcroft arrived in Ecuador, they were in a state of cultural shock for two weeks and were unable to communicate very well.
“We thought, ‘[Eighteen] months [will be] a very long time.’”
But then they went on to say, “We saw vividly the conditions in which [some of the] missionaries lived. … Our first thoughts were—until we learned more of our own duties—we could at least make life more pleasant for the [full-time missionaries]. So we shopped for pans and ingredients to make cookies and cinnamon rolls. We bought chocolate bars and cut them up to make chocolate chip cookies.
“We learned so much from the [missionaries]. It didn’t matter that they learned the language more quickly than we did. Seeing the joy … on their faces as they enjoyed a chocolate chip cookie was worth every effort. We represented a bit of home, a bit of something they missed.
“It [may] sound like we did nothing but make cookies for the missionaries. Not so! … [We worked] with the [local Church] leaders in activation, teaching, music, … genealogy, and welfare. We had open house each week for the … missionaries and their investigators. We worked together. …
“On preparation day, [the missionaries] came and made cookies or cinnamon rolls. [We] … discussed the scriptures. When … discouraged, they came and talked about it. … How we loved them! …
“After teaching a young couple to read or seeing the happiness in a family [because] the father was again attending church, we would walk back to our [little] apartment with a heart that was singing and feet that hardly touched the cobblestone street. Seeing a young mother clap her hands with joy as she truly realized that she was reading or watching a baby … and knowing that perhaps [this child] wouldn’t be alive now had we not [been serving in that city at that time]. These experiences, each and every one, made our mission worth every minute of it.
“Was it worth it to struggle with [another] language? It certainly was! … Did we feel that we had to keep up with [the younger missionaries]? No. We worked in our own way. … Were we accepted? Were we ever!”
Sister Shawcroft recommends that every couple take on their mission a good chocolate chip cookie recipe, lots of love, a good recipe for cinnamon rolls, a strong testimony of the gospel, the scriptures, and then more love!

At a Relief Society meeting, a group of women were discussing how to teach youth to make and keep covenants. One woman, who was struggling with a teenage daughter, listened as the women talked about faith, prayer, good example, and scriptures. Finally she blurted out, “I’ve tried all those things! And they’re not working!” Quietly she added, “Love is all that is working for us right now.” This good sister trusted that somehow her covenant to be charitable (even to her daughter) would make a difference. And it is.

Before homes could be built, the Saints had to cut down the thickets and dig ditches to drain the swamps. Unfortunately they were unaware of the dangerous disease the pesky mosquitoes were carrying. Many workers became ill with malaria, or ague, as it was called then. Before long, hundreds of people in Nauvoo and across the Mississippi River in Montrose, Iowa, were very ill with severe chills and fever, and many were dying.
For a time Joseph and Emma nursed and cared for the sick, but then Joseph also became ill. For several days he lay overcome with the sickness. But on July 22, 1839, Joseph was prompted to arise and extend help to others. Filled with the Spirit of the Lord, he obediently arose and began to administer to the sick staying in his house and to the people in the tent city surrounding his home. Then he moved down to the river where many more lay too sick to move. Joseph went to the door of Brother Henry G. Sherwood’s tent and commanded him, in the name of Jesus Christ, to rise and come out. Brother Sherwood obeyed and was healed.
Elder Heber C. Kimball and others then accompanied the Prophet across the river to Montrose, where they visited the homes of the sick and, using the power of the priesthood, healed them. When Joseph arrived at the home of Elijah Fordham, the man was unconscious and near death. Joseph took Brother Fordham’s hand and said, “Brother Fordham, do you not know me?” There was no response at first, then the leaders could see the Spirit of God resting upon Elijah.
Joseph repeated his question, and Elijah whispered, “Yes!”
Joseph said, “Have you not faith to be healed?”
Elijah answered, “I am afraid it is too late. …”
Joseph asked next, “Do you believe that Jesus is the Christ?”
“I do, Brother Joseph,” Elijah said.
Then the Prophet Joseph said in a loud voice, “Elijah, I command you, in the name of Jesus of Nazareth, to arise and be made whole!”
Elijah Fordham jumped from his bed and was healed!
Wilford Woodruff said, “The words of the Prophet were not like the words of man, but like the voice of God. It seemed to me that the house shook from its foundation.”
After the people recovered, they continued to build the beautiful city on a bend in the Mississippi River and to settle many other outlying cities. Once again the hard work and abilities of the Saints began to pay off, and the towns began to flourish. Soon Nauvoo had many shops and factories, including sawmills, brickyards, printing offices, flour mills, etc. Nauvoo craftsmen also produced matches, leather goods, rope and cord, gloves, bonnets, pottery, jewelry, and watches. Professional associations and schools, including a university, were established. The people also put on plays and held dances and parties.

Some immigrants were troubled by the rough-looking, rough-talking Utah Boys. According to Englishman William Yates, another diarist on the trail that year, the boys looked and acted like poorly educated frontiersmen. Brother Yates, however, was fooled by appearances, for his own diary is notches below the quality of the one kept by Utah Boy Zeb Jacobs.
The immigrants learned quickly to appreciate the boys’ abilities with oxen and wagons. And they liked to see the Utah Boys do much of the wagon trains’ dirty work. Zeb and the others had to hunt for firewood and buffalo chips, build fires, track down missing cattle, set up and break camps, haul water, and spend hours in rivers helping wagons to cross. At Loup Fork crossing, for example, Zeb “had the pleasure of getting a dunking several times, helping the wagons over.” Near Fort Laramie he wrote: “I was in the water most of the afternoon helping the teams across. The weather was cold.” The boys seemed to enjoy showing off their expertise and strength, however, especially when teenage girls were watching.
The boys’ main assignment was caring for cattle and wagons—hitching, unhitching, feeding, shoeing, corralling, guarding, and mending harnesses. This work provided Zeb with some unexpected adventures. One day, according to his diary, “I was helping to shoe an ox, and witnessed the mosquitoes and horse flies driving off the horses and cattle, and in gathering the animals we kept what is called the dog-trot for about a mile. I finally caught a horse and jumped on him, and with considerable difficulty I succeeded in getting the animals back to camp.”
One night the “mules and horses took a notion they would go and accordingly they went.” The boys started in pursuit “but the night was so dark that we had to take the advantage of the lightning to tell us which way we were going.” When Zeb saw something move in the distance he tried to run to it. “At last I got lost in a swamp but managed, after much trouble, to get back to camp without finding the animals.” Next morning, on foot, the boys found the animals more than nine miles from the camp.
One night Zeb let the terrain keep the cattle from wandering: “Being on guard, I took the mules up a large ravine and stayed until midnight, then Bro. Henry Parker relieved me.”
For teenagers life can never be all hard work. The Utah Boys had fun on the trail too. One day they “caught a string of fish.” Another time they “had a family swim in the Platte.” One morning Zeb and one of the men “crossed the river and found plenty of chokecherries and currants. After satisfying our own appetites we filled our hats and pockets.” In recrossing the river “we got ducked several times, but we hung on to the fruit.” Back at camp they shared the berries and “finding breakfast ready, we ate heartily.”
On July 24, Pioneer Day, the Utah Boys decided to help the campers celebrate. With good-humored exaggeration Zeb wrote of their fun:
“We were up at daylight and called out the ‘National Guard’ [the boys] which fired a volley of musketry, and any kind of guns that were handy. Then the ‘Martial Band’ struck up ‘Hail Columbia’ (the band was composed of tin pails, pans, bake-kettle lids, bells, and various instruments of music); then there was another volley by the Guard; and at sunrise, the firing of cannon (which was about 3 inches in length), and concluded the morning performance with an Indian jig.”
That night the boys held a “grand ball” at the “Bachelors Hall,” meaning a square dance in front of their tents.
August 17 provided one of the highlights of the boys’ fun on the trail. According to Zeb: “As we woke up in the morning all hands began laughing at each other, as our faces were besmeared with tar and wagon grease. Some of the boys from the other camp had paid us a visit and left their compliments upon our faces.”
Humor also helped Zeb describe how the mosquitoes plagued them at swampy stretches of the trail. “Some of us went in the river to bathe,” he wrote once, “but we found the mosquitoes there ahead of us. They very soon got rid of us.” Another evening he said the boys were “entertained with a large and renowned band of minstrels (mosquitoes); they kept us dancing all night.”
On August 30, in the middle of Wyoming, the teenage driver received a special honor. Captain Joseph W. Young needed to rush ahead of his train to catch up with another wagon company, so he selected Zeb to drive him in a wagon pulled by mules. (Mules travel much faster than oxen.) Zeb drove as fast as he could for three days and then Captain Young, needing to travel even faster, hailed a passing stagecoach, boarded it, and left Zeb to travel alone.
Zeb liked the fast mule team which moved him 20 to 45 miles a day, double what wagon trains could cover. But driving alone on the hot, dusty trail and camping by himself at night had its lonely moments. So he enjoyed catching up to other travelers and visiting with them. Late on September 3 he overtook the Joseph Horne train “where I joined the people in that camp in a dance.” An injured man in the camp needed to be hurried to Salt Lake, so Richard Horne joined Zeb as a traveling companion, “and I was very glad of his company,” Zeb confessed.
Zeb, the teenage driver, put his mule-pulled wagon and injured passenger into Salt Lake City in near record time, arriving on September 7 at breakfast time. He beat his Joseph W. Young wagon train there by 16 days. In total, down and back, Zeb had been on the trail for 18 weeks.
It is not known if Zeb kept any diaries after 1861. He made down-and-back trips again in 1862 and 1863. In 1866, at age 24, he married. He served in the Blackhawk War as a sergeant in the cavalry. By career he became a railroad man, working as a popular conductor on the Utah Central Railroad. Late in life he became a guard at the state penitentiary. He remained a lifelong faithful Latter-day Saint.

Another important quality to emulate is humor in the face of challenge. Hannah Cornaby, another member of the 1853 migration, wrote:
“It was three years, to a day, from that memorable first of June … , when our oxen having arrived, we left Keokuk. I wish I could afford a page to a description of our starting. The oxen were wild, and getting them yoked was the most laughable sight I had ever witnessed; everybody giving orders, and nobody knowing how to carry them out. If the men had not been saints, there would doubtless have been much profane language used; but the oxen, not understanding ‘English,’ did just as well without it. But it did seem so truly comical to witness the bewildered look of some innocent brother, who, after having labored an hour or more to get [an ox] secured to one end of the yoke, would hold the other end aloft, trying to persuade [the other ox] to come under, only to see [the first] careering across the country, the yoke lashing the air, and he not even giving a hint as to when he intended to stop.”

This past summer our deacons quorum brought two members into full quorum activity and introduced three nonmembers to the Church. The quorum took a 270-mile bike trip from Kirtland to Dayton, following the path of the Zion’s Camp expedition. The deacons and advisers, the bishop, and many of the parents drove to Kirtland on a Saturday. They attended Church and visited Church historical sites the next day. That evening they had a fireside. Monday they started out on their bikes. It took a week for them to pedal to Dayton. They camped overnight at campgrounds, bicycled in the rain, and contended with traffic. One of the best parts of the trip was that one of the boys who was handicapped pedaled right along with the rest of the group.

I would like to explain what honoring the priesthood means to me. In this regard, I am like many other young men in the Church who are preparing to one day worthily enter the temple and to serve a mission.
I live in Tucson, Arizona, with my parents, my brother Stephen, my grandfather Juan, and my great-grandmother Maria. As a member of the Sonora Ward in the Tucson Arizona Stake, I have enjoyed many opportunities to magnify my callings in the Aaronic Priesthood. I have helped clean yards of the elderly and others unable to take care of their homes. I have also helped clean the church cemetery and ballpark. But what has helped the most in learning to honor my priesthood was an experience I had in helping my own family.
One summer my aunt and uncle left my four young cousins with my parents. I was asked to baby-sit them much of the time. During those months, I had the interesting experience of learning how to change diapers and fix lunches as well as figure out ways to keep my little cousins from getting into trouble. The first few days were hard on all of us, but by the end of the summer, we were all enjoying ourselves and doing well. I learned to appreciate what parents have to teach their children, and by the end of the summer, I felt a greater love for my cousins than I’d ever felt before.
I learned that one of the most important ways I can honor my priesthood is to obey the Lord’s commandments and to honor my parents. I once heard a speaker say, “If we love, we obey, for the Lord said, ‘If ye love me, keep my commandments’” (John 14:15). When I obey, I know that I am a worthy priesthood holder. The guidance that comes from my Heavenly Father is for my own good. He knows who I am and has a plan for me and for my salvation. I don’t always understand why I have to do certain things, but I know that there are eternal reasons for doing them.
There also have been times when my parents wouldn’t allow me to go places or do things I wanted to do. I have not always been happy about their decisions. But many times I have come to realize that they were right. For example, when I was younger, some of my friends were going to a “teen night” at a nightclub, and my parents wouldn’t let me go. I was upset and felt that my parents didn’t trust me. But after my bad feelings left, we talked about the temptations all around us and how my being at the nightclub would be opening the door to greater temptations. We also talked about my being worthy to pass the sacrament and about honoring my priesthood. I love my Heavenly Father and my parents, and I know that love and obedience go hand in hand.
I have been preparing myself to be worthy of the ordinances of the temple. One of the ways I have been doing this is by keeping myself morally clean. It is a major challenge in these times to be morally clean and respectful of ourselves and others. Some people think that being sexually active outside of marriage is acceptable, but the Lord has taught us that only by maintaining high moral standards will we be able to enjoy all the blessings he wants to give us. Being immoral is totally unacceptable to the Lord and to his church.
The pamphlet For the Strength of Youth gives simple guidelines that help teach us how to be worthy to one day enter the temple. My bishop challenged the youth of our ward to always keep this pamphlet with us. If he asked us to show it to him and we couldn’t, we would owe him a candy bar. I feel the pamphlet has helped us stay on the “strait and narrow path” (2 Ne. 31:18).
I began preparing for full-time missionary service when I was five years old. I remember going to church with my grandparents because my mom was not active and my dad wasn’t a member. One Sunday I came home and told my mom, “Next Sunday you have to go with me to church. My friend Juanito takes his mom and dad, and I don’t, so my friends are going to start thinking I don’t have a mom and dad.”
Well, when Sunday came, I had forgotten about it, and Mom wasn’t about to remind me. When she took me to my grandparents’ so they could take me to church, I reminded her that she said I could take her with me. She made some excuse and said she couldn’t go with me that Sunday—but maybe next Sunday. I know she said that so I wouldn’t bother her, and she probably figured I’d forget about it. But when Saturday came around, I reminded her that she had to go to church with me. I helped her pick out a nice dress to wear and took her to church that Sunday. She’s been going with me ever since.
We’ve come a long way since then. Shortly after my mom’s reactivation, we focused on converting my father. I know that missionaries in the field work in pairs, but in our home we formed a threesome: Mom, my brother Stephen, and myself. Dad didn’t have a chance! We used to talk about the children’s hymn we were going to sing in the car, and we kept reminding each other to bless our food and hold family prayer and set a good example. My dad did join the Church and is very active now. In March 1987, we were sealed as a family in the Arizona Temple in one of the greatest events of our lives. We are working hard on becoming an eternal family.
Besides working with my family, I know that I should keep the Word of Wisdom, because a full-time missionary needs to be physically fit as well as morally clean. I need to study the scriptures and attend seminary because it takes some ability to memorize discussions and scriptures and be prepared to teach the gospel. My parents have also taught me the importance of speaking more than one language because “every man shall hear the fulness of the gospel in his own … language” (D&C 90:11).
I think my greatest asset when I serve a mission will be my ability to make and keep friends. When you befriend someone, it is much easier to teach that person the gospel. I know that I need to prepare myself spiritually and physically by being obedient to my Heavenly Father and my parents so that I can have the Spirit as my constant companion. If we do these things, I know we can overcome the temptations of the world and honor our priesthood, serve missions, and enter the holy temple.

The farm is busy today! Liam uses his hands to give the rabbits their food. He feels their soft fur with his fingers. Then Liam’s eyes spot some tools that need to be put away. He makes sure the shovel and hammer go in their right places in the barn. Liam hears Mom calling! His ears listen. Mom is going to make breakfast. She asks Liam to crack eggs into a bowl. Liam is glad he can use his hands, eyes, and ears to help!

“Jerome Mooney!” his mom scolded from the back porch. “Stop spitting at your sister!”
“It’s OK, Mom,” said Mary Beth as she put the last spoon on the picnic table. “Jerome is showing me how he’s going to win a blue ribbon at the 4-H fair.”
“By spitting?”
“No,” Mary Beth explained with a grin, “by whistling. Jerome is entering the whistling competition. Talented, isn’t he? Last place is in the bag.”
“Oh, yeah, smartie?” Jerome retorted. “Just listen to this.”
But for all of Jerome’s effort, his whistle was no louder than a whisper.
“Jerome,” said Dad, handing him a hamburger, it takes a lot of practice to be able to win a blue ribbon, and the fair is only two weeks away.”
“That’s right,” said Mary Beth. “Practice in your room or when I’m not around,” she teased, “and I’ll call you when the two weeks are up.”
Jerome practiced and practiced. Every morning he played records and whistled along with them. Every afternoon he watched TV and whistled along with his favorite commercial jingles. And every time Grandpa called, Jerome whistled his best tunes into the telephone. Even while he got ready for bed, he whistled the songs he heard on his radio.
The more Jerome practiced, the better he became. By the end of the first week he was sure he could win first prize at the fair. Even Grandpa said he’d never heard anything like Jerome’s whistling. Just to be sure, though, Jerome chose “Yankee Doodle” as the tune he would whistle at the fair. He was positive that everyone loved it.
“A blue-ribbon tune if ever I heard one,” agreed Grandpa.
Mom made Jerome a red, white, and blue Uncle Sam costume out of a pair of Grandpa’s old pajamas. Dad gave Jerome a haircut and shined his Sunday shoes. “I don’t see how you can lose,” he said proudly.
“Jerome will find a way,” said Mary Beth.
But Jerome was determined to win. He had one more week to polish up his act. So, for six days straight, he whistled nothing but “Yankee Doodle.” Around and around through the house he marched, whistling the tune in time to the beat.
Mary Beth went around with cotton in her ears. Mom and Dad went to the store a lot, and everyone wished fair day would hurry and arrive.
On the night before the fair, Dad insisted that Jerome would do better if he didn’t whistle again until just before the competition. So Jerome put on his pajamas, kissed Mom and Dad goodnight, and went to bed early.
At breakfast Mary Beth rolled a penny across the table. “It’s for luck,” she said, “because you’re really going to need it. Just don’t forget to give it back to me after the contest.”
“I won’t need it,” said Jerome, but he took the penny and slipped it into his pocket—just in case.
Mom carefully packed Jerome’s costume into a bag. Then they all got into the van and headed for the fair.
At the fair they went to see all the exhibits of homegrown fruits and vegetables, handmade clothes and quilts, baked goods, and livestock. Jerome and Mary Beth pretended to drive some brand-new tractors while Mom and Dad set out their lunch of sausage-and-pepper sandwiches, ice-cold lemonade, and chocolate cake. After lunch they watched race cars roar around the track, and they munched on hot roasted peanuts.
At two o’clock the whistling competition was announced over the main loudspeaker. Jerome ran to the van to put on his costume. When he got to the grandstand, it was already filled with spectators. The contestants were divided into age groups, and each competitor was given a badge with his name and number on it. Jerome was number thirteen. Mom pinned the badge onto his costume and wished him luck.
After a short speech the emcee announced, “Number one, Abigail Potter, will whistle ‘You Are My Sunshine.’”
Jerome listened as the whistlers performed. Some were very good, but Jerome knew that he had the winning tune and a wonderful costume and that he wouldn’t make a single mistake because he had practiced so hard.
When the emcee called, “Number twelve,” from a far corner of the tent a boy appeared in a red, white, and blue Uncle Sam costume! Jerome could not believe his eyes.
The emcee announced, “Theodore Buzby will now whistle ‘Yankee Doodle.’”
“Hey, you can’t do that!” yelled Mary Beth.
“Shhh,” chided someone in the audience.
Jerome felt his palms get clammy. Perspiration ran down his face. He couldn’t do “Yankee Doodle” now, and he didn’t have a second-best tune.
“You’re up next,” the emcee said to Jerome when Theodore Buzby finished his performance. “What’s the name of your song?”
“I want to go home,” whispered Jerome.
As Theodore Buzby bowed, the audience clapped and cheered. There goes my blue ribbon, thought Jerome.
“Number thirteen, Jerome Mooney,” the emcee informed the crowd, “will whistle ‘I Want to Go Home.’”
Jerome found himself at the podium staring at the faces staring back at him. His costume felt like it was glued to his skin. His throat ached, and he searched frantically in his pocket for Mary Beth’s lucky penny and rubbed it. But he needed more than luck.
The audience was still waiting for him to begin. He stared desperately at his family in the stands. Mom looked worried, but she managed a comforting smile. Dad looked nervous, but he held up his fingers in a victory sign. Mary Beth was making ugly faces at Theodore Buzby.
The tent grew hotter by the minute. Jerome’s throat was parched—too dry, maybe, to whistle anything. He spotted a grape Popsicle in the front row and watched as it dripped down the arm of the small girl holding it. One by one the cool drops plopped onto the dusty ground.
Suddenly, from somewhere, came a familiar little tune. Jerome couldn’t remember its name or where he had heard it, but it was sort of catchy. He took a deep breath and whistled softly into the microphone. He’d give it his best even if it wasn’t a blue-ribbon tune.
Soon Jerome noticed smiles throughout the audience. Everyone loved his tune! And more and more fairgoers were coming into the grandstand to listen. He whistled louder and faster. Children clapped their hands in time to the music. He whistled the mystery song better than he had ever whistled before, and when he had finished, the audience stood and applauded. Even Theodore Buzby.
The judges’ decision was unanimous. Jerome Mooney was the best seven-to-twelve-year-old whistler at the fair. The blue ribbon was his. Jerome gazed at it happily.
“I knew you could do it,” said Mary Beth, closing the van door. “Now can I have my penny back?”
“I’m proud of you, Jerome,” said Mom. “I didn’t know what you were going to do. What was that little song? I know I’ve heard it somewhere.”
“It certainly was popular with the crowd,” said Dad.
“Listen,” said Mary Beth, and in the distance Jerome’s blue-ribbon tune was playing softly. It got louder and louder as it came closer and closer. The catchy tune brought dozens of kids running to the curb as an ice-cream vendor turned the corner.
“Oh, no,” said Jerome. “I didn’t win at all. The ice-cream truck did.”
“You silly,” said Mary Beth. “The ice-cream truck wasn’t even at the fair. Besides, it was a blue-ribbon tune only because you were a blue-ribbon whistler. Now please hand over my penny.”
And Jerome did. Whistling happily, he could hardly wait to get home to call Grandpa.

It was a cold spring in Denmark. I had just begun my full-time mission, and my testimony was struggling. I was a convert of only 19 months and full of insecurities about facing a foreign country, a language I couldn’t speak, and a maze of streets I couldn’t fathom navigating. My once gratitude-filled prayers soon became sour accusations: “God, why have you left me all alone?”
One morning I pled with Him in prayer. But instead of asking “why” with anger in my heart, I begged for a witness of the gospel’s truth and suppression of my doubts.
After praying, I flipped my scriptures open. I landed on Deuteronomy 31:6: “Be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them: for the Lord thy God, he it is that doth go with thee; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.”
My heart was full of joy as I realized the answer to my prayer: God had been there all along. He was simply waiting for sincere prayer rather than accusations of abandonment.
God will never leave me, even when all seems hopeless. And we can feel His sunshine through prayer and His scriptures.
Clayton E., Texas, USA