Gospel Story Finder

On a small island out in the harbor, the Statue of Liberty raises a torch for all the world to see. If she turned her head to the left, she would stare straight across the water at the gleaming twin towers of the World Trade Center. On a brisk Monday last January, she could have seen the Manhattan Second Ward Mutual gazing down from the 107th floor at the sprawling maze of streets sardined between skyscrapers that stretches on forever—the city of New York that these teenagers call home.
“There, that’s Lower Manhattan. That’s where I live!” exclaimed Mary Esquilin, pointing to the north. “And see that apartment over there? That’s where Deborah Woodhouse lives.” It was hard for an untrained eye to pick out individual buildings. I could find the bridge-laced East River breaking the pattern of towers that rise like so many mountain ranges. And the famous green rectangle of Central Park, that refuge of trees and grass and lanes and lakes in an otherwise concrete and asphalt cosmos, was clearly visible. But when it came to picking out one tiny building …
“Okay,” said Harry Lee. “You know where Central Park is. The chapel is just two blocks from there.”
I thought back to Saturday morning when I had seen the chapel for the first time. It was just another building in a world of buildings, Number 2 Lincoln Square, across the street from the Julliard School of Music and kitty-corner to Lincoln Center and the Metropolitan Opera, until over the door I noticed the bold yellow letters spelling out “Mormon Visitors’ Center.” I knew I had found the complex that houses the center, the New York New York City Mission offices, and the Manhattan First, Second, and Spanish wards (the chapel, cultural hall, and classrooms are on the third floor).
When I arrived upstairs, the Mutual group was reviewing last year’s activities and planning for the rest of the winter, then spring and summer. They had done plenty of reminiscing.
“We have a lot of activities in Central Park,” 17-year-old Lily Lee explained. “It’s a novelty to have such a large, beautiful park so close at hand. It’s part of our culture. The New York Philharmonic gives free concerts there in the summer, and there are free Shakespeare performances. We saw two plays there last year.”
Lily’s brother Harry, who is 15, mentioned other activities. “There is a zoo and there is public ice-skating in the park. We have picnics, play softball with the bishopric, play volleyball, or sometimes just walk around.”
There are also lots of museums in the area, including the Metropolitan Museum of Art, which is at the far end of the park. “The church is located pretty much in the center of everything, so it’s not hard to get around,” Lily said. “We try to plan things early in the day so it won’t be necessary to travel at night on the subways, and we always travel in groups.”
Deborah Woodhouse, 15, remembered other successful activities, like Christmas caroling, a night at the Nutcracker ballet, cleaning trash from streets near the chapel, and a trip to the United Nations building. Kirsten Anderson, age 12, said she enjoyed the personal feeling of birthday parties and holiday celebrations. “We had a fun Halloween party, and we had a good volleyball game with the Young Men one time. We made dinner for them afterward. The things we do aren’t usually big things, but when you do them with each other and use the time you’ve got, it’s important,” Kirsten said.
Lily said she particularly enjoys joint activities with the Spanish Ward. The seminary students from both wards often meet on Super Saturdays or at youth conferences. Despite the language barriers, they enjoy themselves.
Sister Linda Rane, the Young Women president, explained that the ward includes the Broadway theater district in its boundaries and that LDS actors sometimes help the Mutual with roadshows and skits. Ballet students, medical students, and musicians often live within the ward boundaries while studying, and “once we had a fashion designer who helped the Mutual girls make their own dresses and put on a show.”
The meeting at the chapel had adjourned with prayer. It was followed by a stroll through Central Park. We watched equestrians trotting along a horse trail, joggers pacing themselves along a road closed to traffic, and spritely drivers whose brightly colored hackneys painted a portrait of another era when hay, not gasoline, furnished horsepower.
As we rested near some park benches, the sun melted through the chilled air. I couldn’t help asking questions:
“I was born and raised in New York,” Deborah, 15, said. “But I have visited several other places as well. The people of the Church are the same everywhere. You may have different races and cultures, but you always get the same warm feeling all around.
“At school, people tend to look up to you. Kids are curious, and teachers get to know you and are interested in what you believe. I have a friend who says I must have a nice family because we’re not always fighting. I guess I talk about my brothers a lot, and she can sense the family love we feel.
“The greatest challenge that I feel is avoiding the lesser sins. It’s harder here because there are so many temptations, but it’s easier to resist the big temptations because they are so obvious.”
Mary said, “There are so many things to do and see. But there are challenges too. Most of us are converts. Sometimes we’re the only members in our families. So we rely on other Church members to talk to when we need someone who understands about the gospel.”
Mary, 18, and her sister Eileen, 12, joined the Church ten months ago. They were first interested by a friend who was a member and eventually came to meetings with her. “All I had heard about Mormons was awful,” Mary said. “But as I started going to Church, I had this wonderful feeling. I couldn’t even recognize myself. This was a new Mary. I’ve been a member for less than a year, but for me it seems like a lifetime,” she said.
Louis Perez, 13, and Frank Cerda, 14, said they feel New York is popular because it’s so busy all the time and because so many organizations are headquartered there. “There are people here from all over the world,” Frank said. “I think it’s terrific.”
Lily said, “A lot of people wonder if you can find the Spirit of the Lord here. You can. The things He manifests to everyone, He manifests here, too. New York has a lot of good people, and the pure in heart will build Zion wherever they are.”
“I talk to my friends at school,” Mary Ann Iavarone, 14, said. “I share my testimony with them. We talk about religions almost every day. Lots of kids tell me that our Church sounds great. I tell them I have fun here, too, but that the most important thing is that it’s true.”
“I think Eileen (Esquilin) showed me a good example of fellowshipping,” Daisy Cerda, 12, said. “I met her the first time I came to Church, and she was my friend. Then I met Kirsten, and so on. Everybody’s my friend now.”
“Having gone through the conversion process myself makes it easier to talk to others about the gospel,” Mary said. “I can tell them my experiences, that I used to feel the way they feel.”
Lily is student-body president at a high school where she is the only LDS student. “It’s a challenge, but it’s not as difficult as everyone says,” she said. “Living in a place like New York, there are so many backgrounds and cultures that when you say you believe in something, people accept it. At my school, for example, there are a lot of Greek Orthodox students, and it’s not unusual for someone to say they’re not going to a party because it’s on Sunday or to say they don’t smoke or drink. They understand. So it’s important to share all the facets of the gospel with them.”
Deborah, also the only LDS student in her school, said missionary work is a great challenge: “I’ve got 3,500 students to convert.” But she said that many students know about BYU because of its athletic programs and many of her Jewish friends want to discuss the Old Testament with her because she has studied it in seminary.
“I find that for a lot of my friends it’s difficult to get in front of a classroom to give an oral report,” Lily said. “I have to do it in front of the whole student body, but it hasn’t been hard. At first I didn’t know why. Then I realized what training I have had. I’ve been giving 2 1/2-minute talks all my life. Forget about the religious part of the Church programs and just look at their positive influence. Then add in the truthfulness of the gospel, too, and you have the best thing on earth.”
Terry Burdick, 14, who attends the Second Ward Mutual because he is the only Mutual-age teen in the First Ward, said that growing up in an all-member family has helped all of them feel close. “I have a growing testimony,” he said. Frances Pizzaro, 17, felt the gospel had strengthened her family as well. They were already holding family prayer when the missionaries tracted them out. “My brother and I joined the Church, and my mother will soon join,” she said. She also said she learned things in seminary that “help me every day. I study the scriptures every morning and my workbook at lunchtime at school. Other people say, ‘Oooh, what’s that?’ And then everybody starts talking about it. It’s great.”
Iris Rivera, who graduated from Mutual last year, said one of her blessings has been the fellowship she has shared with Mary as Mary joined the Church. “I’ve seen her grow a lot. And now we’re going to be visiting teachers together starting next month.”
The noise of Harry rattling the door brought me back to the top of the World Trade Center. He was trying to gain access to the rooftop observation area, but it was locked and a sign said the wind was so strong no one would be allowed outside.
“Sorry,” he said. “That’s the best we can do.”
And I remembered again. I remembered his patience as he explained to me over and over the subway system the morning the group went to the Statue of Liberty, and finally how he said, “Just follow me and don’t get lost.”
I remembered the wind whipping over the bow of the ferry and the steamy cups of hot chocolate the young women shared back on the pier. I remembered stopping to read plaques at the statue and the young members’ feelings of pride in their country and in their hometown that were genuine and unpretentious.
And then I remembered interviewing some of the group in between meetings on Sunday. The young women’s lesson had been on developing a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. The young men had discussed morality. All of them had commented afterward about the influence the lessons exerted throughout the week.
“These activities and lessons keep us together,” Mary said. “We share our testimonies and they grow. We treat each other like brothers and sisters because we are.”
Mary Ann nodded agreement. “From my friends’ testimonies, I can build my testimony. They are a great influence on me.”
“The lessons help me keep my mind off things I shouldn’t think about,” Harry said. “I have a strong testimony of the gospel, and I know it’s good to be together with my friends in church. I need the recharge I get from being with them.”
“As you can see, we have a lot of fun together. We like each other a lot. But the neatest thing is that when I leave, I feel the Spirit coming with me, helping me choose wisely and do what’s right,” Mary Ann said.
“I’m glad to have friends who help me honor my priesthood,” Frank said. “When I carry the sacrament, I feel proud.”
And that made me think of a comment one of the adults made that same Sunday. “I admire these kids tremendously,” he said. “New York is beautiful and fun, but it’s also a difficult place to live righteously. There’s a lot of pressure on these kids from their friends not to follow the teachings of the prophets. I think they’re real heroes to live the gospel as they do.”
The group walked to the south side of the tower for one last look at the Statue of Liberty. One thought lingered in my mind. I was in the company of heroes. Real heroes, with a mission—to live and share the gospel with all of New York City. Somehow, in my heart, I knew they would be equal to the task.

I also remember learning the importance of prayer. When I was about five or six, my baby brother David would sometimes get such high fevers that he would go into convulsions, making his body shake and tremble. This worried my parents. I remember how they put David into a cool bath one day, trying to bring down his fever and stop his convulsions. I took my four-year-old sister, Helen, into another room, where we kneeled and prayed that everything would be all right. We finished our prayer and told our mother that David would be all right. And he was. David never had another convulsion. Prayer is real, and it works.

When I was about your age, I learned the importance of a straight and narrow path and how difficult it was to be focused and stay on it. I grew up in a very small town in the foothills of the Canadian Rockies. My dad was a farmer, and I learned to work! Every summer I drove the tractor for him, mowing and raking hay, hauling hay bales, and plowing fields. I remember when I first started to learn to plow and cultivate a field. Dad explained the importance of plowing a straight furrow or a straight line. If you went crooked, there would be spots missed in the field and the weeds would take over. He said: “If you will keep your eye focused on the fence post across the field and let that be your goal, you will plow a straight furrow. Don’t let the bumpy terrain throw you off. It’s when you start looking at the end of the tractor that the holes and bumps take you off course and you begin to go crooked.” Then he left me to do the job.

I remembered about the fence post across the field for several rounds, then I started singing songs to make the time pass. I sang every song and hymn I knew, and those I didn’t know I made up. I was singing at the top of my lungs and having a good time when I noticed my dad walking through the field towards me. I stopped the tractor and he said, “Can you tell what has happened to the straight lines?”

I said, “What do you mean?”

He said: “Look at the line. Your first few rounds are straight, but evidently you quit paying attention to where you were plowing. You must have quit looking at the fence post across the field—your goal. Can you see that gradually each time you’ve gone around, you’ve just gone a little crooked until now there are big spots in the field?” He got on the tractor and drove a few rotations to straighten out the lines. As he got off to let me try again, he said, “Sharon, always pay attention to where you are going.”

I was a new member of the Church, a new wife, and now a new mother. It was fast Sunday, and our tiny daughter was about to receive a name and a blessing. I had never seen a baby blessing before because we lived in a ward with few young families. I didn’t know what to expect. Yet I felt by the Spirit that this was something very special and significant.
My husband, joined by other reverent priesthood holders, carefully cradled our precious little daughter. The sweetness of the Spirit filled me with joy. Tears ran down my cheeks, and myriad impressions flooded my mind. I knew I was only beginning to glimpse the depth and breadth of Heavenly Father’s magnificent gift of love to us—the priesthood.
Shortly after my baptism, my husband and I were married. His parents were members of the Church and his home was centered in the gospel, but I knew his testimony was not well rooted. I was not worried, though. My young faith brimmed with optimism. I would simply love him and be patient and prayerful.
During the months I carried our firstborn, I felt as mothers do—so close to my little one, so full of the wonder at this new life within me. When our daughter was born, my bond with her had become a cord of love, strong and sweet.
But I was concerned for my husband. He hadn’t had the blessing of this intense closeness to our daughter that I had enjoyed. Of course he loved her, but I wondered and worried about whether a strong bond would develop between him and her. I worried as I spent time nursing her, bathing her, and holding her, while most of my husband’s time was occupied with working to support our family.
Now, a few weeks after her birth, there we were in our chapel. A miracle was unfolding before my eyes and in my heart. My tentative husband humbly smiled at his brethren in the circle, his eyes full of light and a glint of tears. In return, love and support flowed from those brethren to him as they placed hands on shoulders and helped cradle our baby, forming a little circle bathed in pure and sacred love. As my husband began the blessing, I heard trembling in his voice, and I knew that he was feeling the Lord’s power and the honor of holding His priesthood.
I felt a great love welling up in him for our little girl, and I knew he had tried hard to prepare himself to give her the blessing Heavenly Father intended for her. My joy was full as I realized that he now felt tightly bonded to our daughter. It was a bond that was never to weaken.

Babe never doubted that she would qualify for the Olympics. In 1928, when her father read to the Didrikson children about the Olympics from the newspapers, Babe and her sister Lillie decided to train for the next Olympics. Babe decided to be a hurdler because “I never was too good at straightaway running. I didn’t seem to want to stay on the ground.”
One of the ways she trained was to jump over the hedges between her house and the corner store. One of the hedges was too high for her to hurdle, so she asked the neighbor who lived there to cut it to the same height as the others. He did, and soon she could hurdle the hedges on the way home faster than her older sister could run there with no obstacles.
Babe was good at almost anything she put her mind to. “All my life I’ve always had the urge to do things better than anyone else. Even in school, if it was something like making up a current-events booklet, I’d want mine to be the best in the class. I remember once I turned one in with hand-drawn maps and everything, and my teacher … wrote on it, ‘Babe, your work is beautiful. A triple plus!’”
For a home economics assignment, Babe made a dress that later took a prize at the Texas state fair. And she once won an award for her typing.
Besides schoolwork and sports, Babe had work to do at home. Times were hard during the Great Depression, and “for several years Poppa couldn’t get work regularly. … Momma took in washing. All of us pitched in and helped her. … We’d wash the clothes and rinse them and hang them out, and then while that was drying we’d do another wash.”
Other chores included polishing shoes at night, helping to wash “those twenty-eight windows in the porch” every Saturday, grocery shopping, and ironing her three brothers’ clothes.
“Momma was a good organizer. She’d divide up the work so that everything got done. And we didn’t realize it then, but she was also teaching us. She was showing us that everyone has responsibilities in life. …
“I know [we] kids were a lot of trouble to raise. But I think we realized more than some kids do that Momma and Poppa had it pretty hard, and that we should try to help them.”
When Babe started to work at the insurance company, she sent almost all her earnings home. Later, whenever she could, she’d take her mother and her father shopping and buy them clothes or whatever they needed.
When Babe was about eight years old, she earned money for a harmonica by cutting some neighbors’ grass. It was so high that she had to cut it with a sickle before she could mow it. When she got the harmonica, she practiced for hours and hours. Her brothers played the drums, two of her sisters played the piano, her other sister and her father played the violin, her mother sang, and Babe played her harmonica. Even when she was older and famous for her athletic prowess, she was good enough to play her harmonica in public.
Although most people might consider winning the A. A. U. meet her most incredible feat, for Babe, it was simply her key to the door of the Olympics. She must have been disappointed at being allowed to compete in only three Olympic Games events. And she must have been even more disappointed to win only two gold medals—in the javelin throw and the eighty-meter hurdles, setting world records in both events.
In the third event, the high jump, her last jump was disqualified. The judges said that it was illegal because her head had preceded her feet over the bar. That’s not against the rules anymore, and Babe believed that a photograph taken at the Olympic Games proved that her feet had actually gone over the bar first. But in those days the officials had only their own eyes to judge with, so Babe had to settle for the silver medal.
In later years Babe became famous for her golf playing. She was the first American to win the British women’s championship, and she set a record that has never been beaten by men or women when she won seventeen consecutive tournaments!
After cancer surgery, Babe played golf again. And she made many guest appearances at benefits for cancer research. But at age forty-two she was defeated by a second attack of that dread disease.
Before she died, she related her life story, dedicating her book “in memory of my mother and father, and to my husband, George, without whom there never would have been a life to lead.”
Although Babe participated in only one Olympic Games, that competition was one of the highlights of her life. On pages 24 and 25 you will find a game reflecting some of the features of the original Olympic Games in ancient Greece.
NOTE: Most of the preceding information, and all of the quotations, are from Babe Didrikson Zaharias’s autobiography, This Life I’ve Led.

The heat was sweltering, and it was raining heavily. Still, the missionaries continued down the road, a mix of perspiration and rain rolling off their backs and faces. To their left and right were the humble houses of the people of Hong Kong.
As they walked, Elder Tavita Sagapolu seemed a giant. Standing 1.8 meters tall and weighing over 120 kilos, the former college football star, who was now a full-time missionary, towered over most of the people in this city. And now he discovered that he towered over their homes, too. The buildings came up only to his chin.
After approaching one of the houses, Tavita’s more experienced companion, who had been on his mission several months, turned to the young Samoan man and offered to let him knock on the door. This would be the first door Tavita would knock on since arriving in Hong Kong, and it would be an experience that he would remember throughout his life.
Tavita shook with nervousness as he prepared to knock. “My mouth went dry and refused to open,” he recalls. Nonetheless, he mustered the courage to approach the door, a door so small he had to kneel down to knock.
“As I was kneeling there, I forgot how strong I was. I didn’t even have to knock—my hand was shaking so much that all I had to do was put my arm up to the door.” Before Tavita knew what was happening, the door fell in under the weight of his arm. Panic swept through him as he tried to put the door back on its hinges before anyone came.
Suddenly, an elderly woman appeared at the door. When she opened it, it fell on her. She came out screaming. “I grabbed my companion and put him in front of me. I said to the woman, ‘Here, talk to him!’ The memory of that little old woman’s face after the door fell down will always be with me.” Now, when he recalls the episode, Tavita chuckles.

To help explain what the Savior has done for us, President Boyd K. Packer, Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, told the story of a man who borrowed a great deal of money. He bought something he had always wanted. But when the bill came due, he could not afford to pay it. He knew that his creditor would take away his possessions as payment and throw him in jail.
Then the man’s friend came to rescue him. The friend asked, “If I pay your debt, will you accept me as your creditor?” The man gratefully agreed, and his friend told him, “You will pay the debt to me and I will set the terms. It will not be easy, but it will be possible.”
Because the friend was willing and able to pay, the creditor received the money that was fairly owed him. At the same time, the man was able to keep his possessions and not go to jail. (See “The Mediator,” Ensign, May 1977, 54–55.)

Dr. William Ghormley served as president of the stake in Corpus Christi, Texas. He bought his gasoline at a particular station. Each time he filled his tank he would leave a piece of Church literature with the station owner. It might have been a tract or a Church magazine or the Church News, but he never went there without leaving something. The man who ran the station was converted by the power of the Spirit as he read that literature. When last I checked, he was serving as a bishop.

The miracle began when, with my husband and son, I moved back into the neighborhood where I had lived as a youth. Jane,* a non-member and a woman who had had trouble with alcohol for years, still lived there—with her husband, small daughter, and mother. For years, the neighbors had avoided dealing with Jane’s problem by deliberately having no contact with her family.
Although I remembered the stories of Jane’s wildness and drinking from my high school days, I also remembered her compassion as a nurse. She had never seemed too busy to come in the night to help someone in pain. She couldn’t be all bad, I decided. After all these years I would accept her good qualities and ignore the rumors.
I soon became aware that not all was rumor. Jane was an alcoholic. During her drinking bouts anything might happen. But the rest of the time she was a fine wife, a model mother, and a great friend. No one, however, seemed able to help her overcome her alcoholism. She was literally drinking herself to death.
Her family despaired. They accepted, they loved, they tried to cope, and their agonized hearts cried out for help. I could only offer Jane my love and friendship.
Since Jane’s daughter, Mary, and my son were almost the same age, I began including her in our family activities. We took her to church with us and on picnics and outings. She also stayed with us when Jane was drunk and out of control. For example, I remember one day I met Jane coming out of the liquor store, carrying a brown paper sack containing bottles of liquor. As soon as she saw me, Jane thrust Mary’s hand into mine and asked me to take Mary home. For several days, Jane’s mother, her husband, and I managed to care for Mary and keep things as normal as possible for her.
Through the years, a strong relationship developed between our families. I was amazed at how fast little Mary absorbed gospel teachings. She took the gospel into her home in bits and pieces, insisting on blessing the food when she was only three, and adding daily by precept and example.
Jane’s love for Mary, her desire to be the right kind of mother, and her frustration about her alcoholism almost overwhelmed her. She became desperate to change her life-style. One day she told me of a place that “cured” alcoholics. It wasn’t an easy process—most gave up under the pressure and sank back into despair. But Jane decided to risk all. She would rather die than continue the way she was.
The cure was expensive, but her family somehow got together the money needed. For months, Jane was gone. Later she compared that time to a literal hell, full of anguish and suffering.
While Jane was away, I wrote her letters of love and encouragement. One stressed the value of prayer and how much it could help. I never knew how much that letter helped her until years later when she took it from her purse, almost shredded from many readings, and read parts of it in a testimony meeting.
Jane made it. She was one of the few who were really cured. Her health had been practically ruined from the drinking, but her spirit was triumphant. She had won her fight. But there was more to come.
One day Jane came to talk to my husband and me. She told us that Mary, nearly ten now, wanted to be baptized. The real surprise came when Jane told us she wanted to be baptized, too. She wanted my husband to perform the ordinance for both of them.
Jane and Mary became faithful members of the Church. A short while later Jane’s husband and mother joined. The years passed. Then one day Mary brought a young man to see me. They spoke of plans to wed. Six months later Mary and her young man were married, and Jane’s family was sealed in the temple. The miracle was complete.

Sam was tired of sitting. He tugged on his mom’s sleeve. “How long is stake conference?” he whispered.
His mom leaned toward him. “Two hours, Sam. Look at the clock. When both hands are on the 12, it will be done. Now, let’s listen to the speakers.”
Sam fidgeted. He crossed his left leg over his right. He crossed his right leg over his left. He pulled out the hymnbook and flipped a few pages. He was in first grade, and he could read many of the words.
He put the hymnbook back. This meeting was going to last forever.
Now that he was old enough to read and write, Mom and Dad said he didn’t need treats or toys in church meetings. Before the meeting started, they gave him a notebook and a pen. They said he could draw pictures, as long as he would sit still and try to listen.
Sam tried to listen. He really did. But the speakers were grown-ups, and they mostly talked about grown-up things. It was hard to pay attention to what they said. Sam opened his notebook and began to draw. After a while, he asked Mom again when the meeting would be over. She said there was still a whole hour left! He had already drawn a robot, a space monster, a dinosaur, and his family. He was tired of drawing.
Sam sighed loudly. Mom put her finger on her lips and frowned. He kicked the bench in front of him. Dad put his hand on Sam’s shoulder and frowned. Sam crossed his left leg over his right leg. He crossed his right leg over his left leg.
Just then, he heard the speaker say “Jesus Christ.” Sam knew how to spell that. He opened his notebook and wrote Jesus Christ.
“I wonder if the speaker will say that again,” Sam thought. He listened. Sure enough, the speaker did, and Sam wrote it down. He wondered how many times the speaker would say “Jesus Christ.” He decided to count. The speaker said His name six more times. Sam wrote down each one.
When the next speaker stood up, Sam listened for “Jesus” again. But this speaker talked more about the Holy Ghost. Sam tried to spell Holy Ghost, but it was a little tricky. He thought maybe he hadn’t gotten it quite right, but it was fun to try. He listened to see if the speaker would say any other special words.
When the speaker sat down, Sam looked at his notebook. He had written Jesus Christ, Holy Ghost, Heavenly Father, and comfort. He had also written pray, listen, and obey. He had a whole page of special words.
Looking at the page made Sam feel good inside. He didn’t need toys or treats after all. All he needed were his notebook and pen—and his ears to listen for special words.

Will you join me as we look in on a typical Latter-day Saint family offering prayers unto the Lord? Father, mother, and each of the children kneel, bow their heads, and close their eyes. A sweet spirit of love, unity, and peace fills the home. As father hears his tiny son pray unto God that his dad will do the right things and be obedient to the Lord’s bidding, do you think that such a father would find it difficult to honor the prayer of his precious son? As a teenage daughter hears her sweet mother plead unto the Lord that her daughter will be inspired in the selection of her companions, that she will prepare herself for a temple marriage, don’t you believe that such a daughter will seek to honor this humble, pleading petition of her mother, whom she so dearly loves? When father, mother, and each of the children earnestly pray that the fine sons in the family will live worthily that they may, in due time, receive a call to serve as ambassadors of the Lord in the mission fields of the Church, don’t we begin to see how such sons grow to young manhood with an overwhelming desire to serve as missionaries? I am sure that family prayer motivated a letter written some years ago by a young Latter-day Saint girl attending a Colorado high school. The students had been asked to prepare a letter to be written to a great man of their choice. Many addressed their letters to well-known athletes, to a noted astronaut, to the president of the United States, and to other celebrities. This young lady, however, addressed her letter to her father, and in the letter she stated: “I have decided to write this letter to you, Dad, because you are the greatest man that I have ever known. The overwhelming desire of my heart is that I might so live that I might have the privilege of being beside you and Mother and other members of the family in the celestial kingdom.” That father never received a more cherished letter.

Squeals of delight spread through the Chinyardzano Children’s Home as missionaries of the Zimbabwe Harare Mission delivered toys and books on Christmas morning. Although many of the missionaries were thousands of miles from home, none of them were homesick when they saw the huge smiles of the children, who had lost their own families to AIDS. Young missionaries entertained the children while couple missionaries held and fed tiny babies.

I had another choice experience with impelling revelation a few months after I began my service at BYU. As a new and inexperienced president, I had many problems to analyze and many decisions to reach. I was very dependent on the Lord. One day in October I drove up Provo Canyon to ponder a particular problem. Although alone and without any interruption, I found myself unable to think of the problem at hand. Another pending issue I was not yet ready to consider kept thrusting itself into my mind: should we modify BYU’s academic calendar to complete the fall semester before Christmas? After 10 or 15 minutes of unsuccessful efforts to exclude thoughts of this subject, I realized what was happening. The issue of the calendar did not seem timely to me, and I was certainly not seeking any guidance on it, but the Spirit was trying to communicate on that subject. I immediately turned my full attention to that question and began to record my thoughts on a piece of paper. Within a few minutes I had recorded the details of a three-semester calendar, with all of its powerful advantages.

Hurrying back to the campus, I reviewed this with my colleagues and found them enthusiastic. A few days later the Board of Trustees approved our proposed new calendar, and we published its dates, barely in time to make them effective in the fall of 1972. Since that time I have reread these words of the Prophet Joseph Smith and realized that I had had the experience he described:
“A person may profit by noticing the first intimation of the spirit of revelation; for instance, when you feel pure intelligence flowing into you, it may give you sudden strokes of ideas … and thus by learning the Spirit of God and understanding it, you may grow into the principle of revelation” (J. F. Smith, ed., Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith, p. 151).

As a member of the German military, I spent more than half of 1999 in Sarajevo, the capital of Bosnia and Herzegovina. My military assignment came with great challenges and long hours, but I always took time off to attend church in a small chapel used by various denominations in our camp of 750.
When I arrived at the chapel one Sunday afternoon, I found the doors locked. I learned that the other members of the Church in the camp had been transferred. I was disappointed because I had looked forward to worshipping and partaking of the sacrament. Before coming to Sarajevo, I had been busy serving as a branch president in Germany and was able to partake of the sacrament regularly.
Several weeks later, I was assigned to accompany my general on a visit to an American division. During lunch, an American captain who had seen me talking to other soldiers asked if I was a member of the Church. After I told him I was, he gave my name and contact information to the senior group leader of the Church there.
Soon a Brother Fisher contacted me. Following an interview, he set me apart as the group leader of the Church in Sarajevo with the assignment to set up a group. (A group is a Church unit in military installations, similar to a branch.)
I began posting meeting times on bulletin boards and sending out invitations, hoping to find other Latter-day Saints in military barracks in Sarajevo. For the first few weeks, no one else attended. So on Sundays, I sang, prayed, and gave talks by myself. Following Church guidelines for leaders and members in the military, I was able to bless and partake of the sacrament without a second priesthood holder. This brought me great joy.
I held my solitary meetings in English so I could improve my English language skills. The first talk I gave was about Joseph Smith. No one visible was in the room, but I sensed the presence of others. The Holy Ghost strengthened me and revealed to me how important it was for the work of the Lord to begin anew in this place.
A few weeks after I held my first Sunday meeting, a young American soldier entered the chapel. She had been baptized only a few months before. I was so happy! Two weeks later, another sister arrived. Then two brothers came. With the help of the Lord, the Church began growing in Sarajevo.
Now the Church has a branch in Sarajevo. As I remember my time there, I reflect on the honor the Lord gave me to serve in a special way—to be a little cog in His work and to know that “out of small things proceedeth that which is great” (D&C 64:33).

The youth of the American Servicemen’s District of Okinawa had no idea that Brother Toshimitsu Kina’s broken leg would lead them to fighting off nasty snakes and wielding big knives, but that’s exactly what happened when they volunteered to help him with his sugar cane harvest.
The crop had to be brought in, so the district members took to the fields, learning how to cut the cane using “kamas,” and how to avoid “Habu” snakes. But would you believe they had a great time doing it? “It’s hard work, but it feels good,” said Leslie Sousley, 15.
“This harvest is pretty fun because we’re helping someone, we get to eat sugar cane, and it’s a new experience,” said Troy Baker, 13. What could be sweeter?

Scouts in Troop 550, an all-Native American troop sponsored by the Papago Ward of the Mesa-Lehi Stake in Arizona, were excited when they received an invitation to represent Native Americans at the Connecticut International Scout Camporee last summer. To earn the money to go, they sold hamburgers, hot dogs, and fry bread at powwows in their area.
Once back east, they not only fascinated the rest of the Scouts with their Native American dances and foods, but they set a great LDS example by having prayers every night and inviting others to join in, and by participating in the LDS Church services at the camporee. Many people became interested in the Church after watching these Scouts.
Before returning to the West, the boys had the chance to visit Washington, D.C. Among other sights, they saw the Vietnam Memorial, where they traced the name of a former ward member and brought the rubbing back to his mother in Arizona. The trip was an experience they’ll never forget.

When our twin daughters were small, we decided to take them to the public pool and teach them how to swim. I remember starting with Rebekah. As I went down into the water with her, I was thinking, “I’m going to teach Becky how to swim.” But in her mind was the thought, “My dad is going to drown me. I’m going to die!” The water was only three-and-a-half feet deep, but Becky was only three feet tall. She was so frightened that she began to scream and cry and kick and scratch. She was unteachable.

Finally, I threw my arms around her and held her and said, “Becky, I’ve got you. I’m your dad. I love you. I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you. Now relax.” Bless her heart, she trusted me. She relaxed, and then I put my arms under her and said, “Okay, now kick your legs.” And she began to learn how to swim.

The Christmas season often reminds me of my childhood and the feelings of beauty, joy and peace during this special time of the year. My grandmother, a devoted Catholic, taught me to enjoy this wonderful season of the year. Usually every Saturday I would go with her to the local Catholic church, where we would clean the building and then decorate the stand with natural flowers in preparation for the Sunday worship service.
I remember we once had to decorate the chapel for a Christmas Eve celebration. We picked flowers and entered the church, but before we started decorating, she softly and convincingly told me, “Today’s decoration is special because tomorrow, we celebrate the birth of the baby Jesus, the Son of God.” I had a special feeling. I had just learned from my family that Jesus is our Savior.
Realizing that I had the privilege to prepare to celebrate His coming gave me a special feeling that I have not forgotten. That Christmas had a deeper meaning for me. The Christmas song we sang that day—“Faraway, I hear angels of heaven singing glory to God in heaven and peace on earth to men of good will”—still echoes in my mind. Looking at the Nativity scene, I felt like I was part of the event of the birth of Christ. The Nativity scene was often decorated with candles that illuminated our eyes and our hearts. It was not adorned with decorations that we have today, but its simplicity and natural beauty gave true meaning to Christmas. I felt that someone special had been born—He was my friend, my Savior and the Light of the World. I felt an unusual peace in my heart and, being a child, I could not quite yet understand where that feeling came from, nor could I explain it. I am grateful today for my grandmother, Geneviève Nkulu Yohari, who understood and put into practice the Savior’s call, “Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 19:14).

My father-in-law was a real inspiration to me. He was the 12th of 13 children of a very poor immigrant family from Switzerland. After he had finished elementary school, he, like many others in his time, was encouraged to drop out of school and learn a trade. Then one day he met Mr. Hicks, the new school teacher. Mr. Hicks asked, “Albert, are you coming to school this year?” Albert explained that he was not planning to. Mr. Hicks said, “Well, why don’t you come for three or four days and see how you like it?”
Albert came, and his future life was dramatically changed for the better. He said this new teacher didn’t just answer the questions. Instead he would write on the chalkboard the titles of the books where they could find the answers. A thirst for learning developed in Albert that was never quenched.
He was a hard-working farmer, providing for a large family. But when I came to know him, I hardly remember his being in the house without a book in his work-worn hands. He would circle words he didn’t know and write their definitions in the margins. He was a real student of history and the doctrine of the Church. Although he never had the opportunity to attend school beyond the eighth grade, he read much more than most college graduates. He not only learned to read; he read.

As a Relief Society president in São Paulo, Brazil, Elizabeth Contieri Kemeny felt impressed to assign herself to visit a shy, pregnant sister who attended church alone as her husband was often away on business. The ward Relief Society had just participated in a stake project to make baby layettes consisting of blankets, clothing, and other supplies for infants. The layettes were supposed to be delivered to the stake on a particular Sunday morning. On that day Sister Kemeny awoke at 6:00 A.M. with a strong impression she should deliver the layettes to the home of this sister, rather than to the stake.
Taking along her counselor and the bishop, Sister Kemeny arrived at this sister’s apartment only to learn that she had already gone to the hospital in labor. Pressing on to the hospital, they found her holding her new baby in her arms, with tears streaming down her own cheeks. She had been praying that Heavenly Father would send somebody to help her. Her husband was out of town, and she had nothing—not a blanket to wrap the baby in nor money for a bus ride home.
That afternoon at the stake meeting this ward had no layettes to contribute. They had been given to bless a sister both temporally and spiritually—all because a visiting teacher had prayed and listened to the promptings of the Spirit.