Gospel Story Finder

A woman who is now a mother of 11 children, dreamed in college of the lights of the stage, while taking classes in philosophy, economics, and political science and majoring in theater. Now she’s on her own stage performing magnificently well. She has chosen to enrich, protect, and guard the home. This past summer she and another Mormon woman ran a campaign from their homes and were elected as two of four delegates to help choose a new leader for a political party. These same women later organized a rally in the city park on an issue they felt strongly would negatively affect life in their province in Canada.
I asked this sister how she manages to be so influential. “You have to know parliamentary procedure in public meetings,” she replied. “If you do, you can safeguard democracy and your home by using the rules effectively.”
“When and where does one learn these rules?” I asked.
She laughed and said, “Last night at supper, it went like this.”
Sarah: “Honorable chairman, the soup is good.”
Chairman: “Can I have a motion to that effect?”
Sharon: “I move that we go on record stating the soup is good.”
Chairman: “Could I have a second?” Seconded. “Any discussion?”
Amy: “It’s too spicy.”
Chairman: “We will proceed to vote.”
The results of the dinner: The soup passed. The jam passed unanimously. And the motion in favor of the water was tabled for another time pending further investigation.

In December of 2019, while serving in Baltimore, Thierry and Nathalie were invited to meet with President Russell M. Nelson. The meeting was virtual. The prophet asked mission president Mutombo what the most important thing was they had learned on their mission. President Mutombo answered, “trying to follow the Savior’s footsteps every day.”

President Nelson then extended a call to Thierry to serve as a General Authority Seventy. Thierry was 43 years old. For the next nearly 27 years, he will devote his life to the Savior’s work. On Saturday afternoon, April 4, 2020, while watching general conference as a family in Baltimore, Maryland, the six Mutombo children learned of their father’s new assignment. Walking in the Savior’s footsteps would continue for many years.

Always dealing honorably with others is part of loving mercy. Consider a conversation I overheard decades ago in the emergency department of Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore, Maryland, in the United States. A patient, Mr. Jackson, was a courteous, pleasant man who was well known to the hospital staff. He had previously been hospitalized multiple times for the treatment of alcohol-related diseases. On this occasion, Mr. Jackson returned to the hospital for symptoms that would be diagnosed as inflammation of the pancreas caused by alcohol consumption.

Toward the end of his shift, Dr. Cohen, a hardworking and admired physician, evaluated Mr. Jackson and determined that hospitalization was warranted. Dr. Cohen assigned Dr. Jones, the physician next up in rotation, to admit Mr. Jackson and oversee his treatment.

Dr. Jones had attended a prestigious medical school and was just beginning her postgraduate studies. This grueling training was often associated with sleep deprivation, which likely contributed to Dr. Jones’s negative response. Confronted with her fifth admission of the night, she complained loudly to Dr. Cohen. She felt it was unfair that she would have to spend many hours caring for Mr. Jackson, because his predicament was, after all, self-inflicted.

Dr. Cohen’s emphatic response was spoken in almost a whisper. He said, “Dr. Jones, you became a physician to care for people and work to heal them. You didn’t become a physician to judge them. If you don’t understand the difference, you have no right to train at this institution.” Following this correction, Dr. Jones diligently cared for Mr. Jackson during the hospitalization.

Mr. Jackson has since died. Both Dr. Jones and Dr. Cohen have had stellar careers. But at a critical moment in her training, Dr. Jones needed to be reminded to do justly, to love mercy, and to care for Mr. Jackson without being judgmental.

Over the years, I have benefited from that reminder. Loving mercy means that we do not just love the mercy God extends to us; we delight that God extends the same mercy to others. And we follow His example. “All are alike unto God,” and we all need spiritual treatment to be helped and healed. The Lord has said, “Ye shall not esteem one flesh above another, or one man shall not think himself above another.”

One day when my companion and I went to visit a recent convert in Colombo, Brazil, the house was full of family members. It was crowded, but they still invited us to share a message. We were about to start when the convert’s brother came in. He was not a member of our Church and was not happy about our visit. He seemed to find any way he could to contradict us.
He had a notebook of all the members of his congregation and their sicknesses. He asked us if we believed in the gift of healing. “Of course we do,” we replied. “Well then,” he continued, “I’ve healed all the people in this notebook. How many people have you healed?”
We tried to explain the priesthood, faith, and how things happen according to God’s will, but after a few moments, we felt like we had been cornered and attacked.
Then “in the very moment” (D&C 100:6) we needed it, the Spirit whispered what to say. I explained that while we do believe in healing, our work as missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was to bring spiritual healing to those we taught, which healing is available only through accepting the Atonement of Jesus Christ through faith, repentance, baptism by immersion, receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost, and enduring to the end.
So while we believe in physical healing, we explained, the most important healing is spiritual healing. And that kind of healing was the kind we saw every day. It really didn’t matter if people were healed physically if they didn’t repent and change their lives to follow Christ.
As the Spirit guided us to respond in a calm manner, the tension in the room dispersed, the brother stopped trying to fight, and we were able to share our message.

In 2006 I was taking an anthropology class at a Catholic college. Our teacher assigned us to conduct research about a particular religion and present it to the rest of the class. I chose to make my presentation about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—after all, I had been a member for 21 years. I knew this would be a rare and marvelous opportunity to share what I believed with 40 colleagues and friends.
During the two months I had to prepare my presentation, I struggled to find a simple way to present the doctrines I hold dear in a way that my classmates would understand. I wasn’t sure what points I should make or how I should make them. When my presentation was a week away, I still didn’t know what to do. In desperation, I prayed and asked for the Lord’s help.
My answer came in the form of general conference, which was held that weekend. During the April 2006 conference, President James E. Faust (1920–2007), Second Counselor in the First Presidency, gave a talk titled “The Restoration of All Things.”1 I felt the Holy Ghost confirm that the truths President Faust shared—and the way he shared them—were a pattern I could follow in giving my presentation.
I downloaded a copy of the talk from the Internet following conference and used it as the basis for preparing a slideshow presentation, which I delivered the next week. I had been allotted 20 minutes, but because of all the questions my teacher and classmates posed, the presentation lasted 40 minutes—the entire duration of the class.
When I finished, our teacher pointed out that none of his students had ever made such a good presentation. He gave me a high grade and told me that the only reason I didn’t get a perfect score on my presentation was because I hadn’t shown impartiality to the theme.
I later shared with the teacher the Liahona web page, where he could find President Faust’s talk and others he might find helpful. I also gave him a copy of the Book of Mormon and asked him to read it, inviting him to talk with me afterward.
I was grateful to learn that the presentation had influenced some of the students as well. Throughout the rest of the year, I saw evidence of the difference it had made in their lives. One of them even received the missionaries in his home, which gave us a great opportunity to continue our conversation about the gospel of Jesus Christ.
I am grateful for the opportunity I had to share my beliefs with my classmates. But more important, I am grateful that I came to learn that the Lord answers our heartfelt prayers through the words of modern prophets and apostles.

In the San Diego California North Stake, the stake Young Women president, Sheryl Arrington, had similar ideas for helping her young women make the modest choice.
When they heard about plans for a modest fashion show, many young women rose to the occasion. “Modesty is important to me because it is important to the Lord,” said Hyesuhn Lee, a Laurel. “I know that being modest will help me reach my goal of going to the temple.”
Several other Laurels like Hyesuhn were invited to participate in the show, and the enthusiasm spread to the Mia Maids and Beehives, who offered to help as well. The show was expanded to include casual clothes, modeled by the Beehives, and Sunday best, showcased by the Mia Maids. With so much participation, Laurel Paige Mange discovered that she was in good company. “The show reminded me that I am not the only one facing the challenge of staying modest.”
The show took as its theme “Be Thou an Example,” and the young women truly became examples by inviting the 11-year-old girls in the stake to come see modesty in action. Christie Richmond, a Laurel, remembered the show’s simple lesson: “We can wear beautiful gowns and clothes and look pretty and be modest at the same time. Modesty will help you feel good about yourself because you know you are doing the right thing.”
Laurel Kierston Knobloch agrees. “I feel confident and comfortable when I know I don’t have to tug and pull at my clothes.”
The girls’ confidence was increased by their participation in the show. Not only did they get to wear beautiful, modest clothes, they also learned poise and posture so they could walk confidently down the runway built for the event. Best of all, however, was the temple cutout that adorned the stage, reminding the young women about their goals to stay obedient, pure, and worthy in dress and action so they could move towards the temple. “Modesty makes me feel closer to our Heavenly Father,” reflects Laurel Bee Xiong.
Sister Arrington agrees that modesty is a way for a young woman to grow spiritually. For her girls in California, as well as for the young women in Utah and anywhere else, when it comes to modesty, “young women are always beautiful when they follow the Lord’s principles,” she says.

My father was a professional pilot and also served in the armed forces in World War II instructing pilots. He was well respected for his ability to fly the many different types of planes that were being used at the time. He had many close friends in the aviation field who also respected his flying ability.
On one occasion, a friend of his from California asked him if he would fly his newly built plane back from the East for him. On this particular trip he asked me to accompany him as his copilot. To me, a boy of 12, my father was a hero. I was so elated that he had asked me to be his copilot. I felt that he trusted and had confidence in me.
It was on the second day of our flight that my father, having done all of the flying so far, started to feel the fatigue of the trip. My dad had been giving me flying lessons for quite a while. He decided that I could navigate the plane while he slept for a few minutes. As a wise parent, and one knowing the dangers involved, he gave me some instructions which were plain and easy to understand. He pointed the way along a straight path in which I should fly the plane. He said that I should never vary from that path. Off in the horizon was my goal, a big rugged yet majestic mountain. In addition, he showed me compass and map bearings and even pointed out Omni beacons which aided pilots when they flew at night or in stormy weather. Then before going to sleep, he reassured me that if anything should happen he would be nearby so I wasn’t to hesitate to wake him. As he began to drift asleep, the excitement of being able to navigate the plane equaled the great responsibility that was placed in my hands. I took comfort in the fact that my father wasn’t too far away if I needed his help.
I wanted to do a good job so that he would be proud of me and let me fly again. My eyes were constantly scanning the horizon for other planes and evaluating the many instruments that decorated the front panel of the cockpit. About 30 minutes had gone by, and my father still slept. I felt so sure of my ability to navigate the plane that I decided not to wake him. The mountain that he gave me as a goal had long since passed. I then discovered a roadway some 10,000 feet below. The cars resembled my little brother’s matchbox cars. The road appeared to be going in the same direction so I decided to follow it.
This was fine for a little while, but then I became bored with following the road and decided to do some experimenting. I began by turning the plane from side to side, then moving the rudder back and forth causing the tail of the plane to go from side to side. I was completely engrossed in my experimenting when I began to realize that I did not know where I was or in which direction I should be going. I was anxious to get back on the proper course and feared being caught in my mistake. I tried to use the map and compass but could not find my bearings because of my lack of knowledge of that area. I tried to recollect my father’s instructions, but I couldn’t remember.
While in the dilemma, I was confronted with another problem. Seemingly out of nowhere two United States Air Force jet fighters flew up and positioned themselves on either side of me. The predicament I was in now was so desperate it caused me to lay aside my guilt and embarrassment. I quickly woke my father up to this awful situation feeling a great need for his help. He took immediate control of the plane, quickly got our bearings and guided the plane back to the proper course. He chastised me for not obeying his instructions and told me that I had been flying over a restricted zone, the site of an underground test launch area for missiles. The jets had been sent up to check us and escort us out of the area.

Like him, many of us must learn to retain our faith in God’s justice and live worthy for blessings that do not come immediately. I remember a fine young man in Solingen, Germany, whom my companion and I taught diligently, fasted for, and prayed about. His parents originally denied him permission to be baptized, and he later lost interest in the Church. But thirteen years later, after the break-up of his marriage, he found the Church again; and when a business interview took him to Chicago he came on to Salt Lake City, and I had the immense joy of baptizing him.

One winter morning I awoke to several inches of snow. A native of central California, I was not accustomed to snow and was dreading the uphill walk to the temple. But instead of rationalizing and staying home, I put on warm boots, carried my church shoes, and started my walk to the temple.
When I arrived, I was greeted by a familiar temple worker who was pleased to see that I had made the trek despite the gloomy weather. Once inside, I felt a sense of triumph mixed with gratitude. I realized, just as the prophet had asked, that I had become “a temple-attending and a temple-loving” person.

We had lived in Hawaii for two years with my husband, their father, who was a student pastor in a small church. But the children had been subject to such constant extreme physical abuse because their father believed “the blueness of a wound cleanseth away evil” (Prov. 20:30) that I could not stand it. As their punishments worsened, I knew that part of my duty as a mother was to protect them from such treatment. So after much soul-searching and prayer, I knew I had no choice but to leave him and make a new and better life for them. My own parents were in the mid-West, but I could not go home. Not only was it a matter of finances, but my father had recently suffered a major stroke and was in no condition to have small children around. I didn’t know a soul in or near the Bay area, and I never felt more alone in my life. Only the fact that the children needed me kept me going.

We must have been a pathetic sight—me in my Hawaiian loose-fitting dress with wilted flower necklaces still around my neck, and three blurry-eyed, very tired children, the oldest one barely five. It was 2:30 A.M., and the huge San Francisco airport was nearly empty. I felt totally lost and so alone.
I approached a man at one of the service counters and asked how far it was to town. He told me that the last bus was just about to leave, and if I hurried, I might still be able to catch it. He helped me with our luggage, and stopped the bus just as it prepared to leave. I didn’t even have time to thank him before we were whisked away.
The station at the end of the line was dark and closed, and as the other passengers on the bus quickly scattered into the night, the empty bus pulled out to wherever it was going, and left me with three small children, four suitcases, and two small trunks, standing on a sidewalk somewhere in San Francisco.
I was beginning to show signs of panic when a custodian came out of the bus station, locking the door behind him. I asked him if there was some place I could use a telephone to call a cab, or if he knew of a hotel nearby. Blessedly, he knew of a clean little hotel about six blocks away, and he offered to obtain a furniture dolly from the building to take my luggage to the hotel. By 4 A.M. with the children in bed, I sank into an exhausted sleep.
We spent the next two days just relaxing—as much as I could relax under the circumstances. We ate at a nearby restaurant and spent a lot of time at a little park two blocks from the hotel. The children ran and played without a care in the world. I was thankful that they were too young to realize the situation we were in.
On my third day, I knew that decisions had to be made. I didn’t know what area of town would be suitable to live in, I didn’t know where to begin to look for work, and I didn’t know what to do with the children while I worked. I certainly could not pick out a name from an ad in the newspaper and feel safe about leaving the little ones with them. I only knew that if we stayed in the hotel much longer, my money would be gone and then I’d have worse problems.
I telephoned three different ministers of the particular church I had been associated with, and assured each that I was not asking for money, only advice. Each man asked me the same question: “Are you a member of our faith?” I answered honestly that I was so bitter and confused at the moment that I wasn’t sure what faith I had, if any. And each one of the three gave me the same response; they couldn’t help me because they had too many of their own people to take care of. My bitterness grew deeper, and I wondered where I could turn for help.
When I had left Hawaii, some friends saw us off. One of them happened to be an inactive Mormon, and when he said goodbye, he added, “If you ever get in a bind and need help, call my church. They’ll help you.”
I knew absolutely nothing of Mormons except that they had a fine Tabernacle Choir. I did not like the idea of begging for help, least of all help from some strange church that I’d never even visited; but I was desperate, and there seemed no other choice. In searching the telephone book, I found an endless number of Mormon churches and listings, so I picked one that was called a mission home. I thought that a mission home would be more apt to be compassionate. A young elder answered the phone, and I told him pretty much the same thing I had told the three ministers: that I did not need money, but I was in desperate need of advice. His reply was that he was quite new to the area and he himself could not help me, but if I would give him my name and phone number, he would have someone else call me. I hung up, half-suspecting never to hear from them again.
To my surprise, within ten minutes I received a call from a lovely lady who listened to my story and then agreed that I could use some assistance. She told me to get all my luggage together, call a taxi, and meet her in thirty minutes at the Berkeley bus terminal. After she described her car and what she would be wearing, she added, “By the way, are you a member of the Church?”
“Here it comes again,” I thought cynically, but into the phone I simply said, “No, I’m not.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she replied, “I just wondered. See you in half an hour.”
I hurried my things together, cleaned up the children, checked out of the hotel, and headed for Berkeley. I was surprised, and a bit suspicious, at the woman’s willingness to help a total stranger, but at this point I was willing to take advantage of any offer.
Her first move was to treat us to lunch. Then I learned that she was the wife of a man named O. Leslie Stone, a member of the First Quorum of the Seventy who was then the stake president there. She got us settled into a boarding house and promised to get me the names of some potential babysitters. All this, in spite of the fact that I emphasized to her my strong bitterness toward churches of any kind, and my intention to stay that way. I couldn’t get over it!
She didn’t seem to care that I was so antagonistic, nor did she try to convert me or criticize me. She even seemed to act as though I was doing her a favor by letting her help me. A Bible verse kept echoing through my mind: “By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another.” (John 13:35.)
Over the next few days, Sister Stone came every day. She did, indeed, find me a babysitter, a woman from her church. Also she helped me find and get moved into a small, furnished apartment, and she gave me the name of a man to see about a temporary job. Still she didn’t preach to me. It amazed me; and still that same scripture kept flitting in and out of my thoughts, “if ye have love one to another.”
In the apartment I rented, I found a small Mormon book entitled, Articles of Faith, by James E. Talmage. I never knew if Sister Stone secretly placed it there, or if it had been left by the former tenant. At any rate, I began reading it after the children were in bed at night; not because I was interested, but because there was nothing else to do.
During those first few weeks, not a Saturday went by that Sister Stone didn’t stop and ask if we would like to go to church with her on Sunday. When I would politely refuse, she never pushed the issue; but still she regularly asked. At the same time, I became more and more engrossed in the book. I had never heard of such things as I found in that book, though I had studied the Bible faithfully most of my life. Much of what I read I either wondered about or outright disagreed with, so I started jotting down notes of such items as I came across it.
One Saturday when Sister Stone came by, I still refused to go to church with her, but I did tell her that I had some questions about it, and that if she would send her pastor to talk to me I’d discuss them with him. In just a few days I was visited by a man named Marvin Turner and his wife, who said they were stake missionaries and had come to answer my questions. Almost defiantly I brought out my written questions, seven pages in all, and told them that if they could answer them I would listen to whatever they wanted to teach me. Brother Turner’s response was that he did not have all the answers, but he knew that through the Church he could find me logical, reasonable answers. Through the patience and tenderness of the Turners, I finally reached the time when I was willing to pray about the truthfulness of those things that they taught me. I consented to go to church with them. Some time later, I was baptized. However, when I moved to southern California, I lost track of my new friends. I remarried and had other children.
That was many years ago. Now I sit in sacrament meeting and watch while one of my sons passes the sacrament and another one blesses it; I watch the faith and testimonies of each of the children grow; and my thoughts turn toward people who have joined the church as a result of different ones spreading the gospel; and I think too of our kindred dead who have had their baptisms and endowments and sealings done through our genealogy work.
Ultimately my thoughts turn toward a gracious Sister Stone and a sharing, loving Turner family somewhere among the vast number of Saints who, I have no doubt, are still serving the Lord through loving and caring. I ask myself how I can ever repay those people who cared so much for someone so rebellious long ago. And the answer comes to me loud and clear: “Go, and do thou likewise.” (Luke 10:37.)

Illustrations by Shauna Mooney Kawasaki
Matt: Look, Mom. There’s a big poster of Jesus in the Friend!
Mandy: And a smaller picture of Him to color.
Mom: “I’ll Follow Him in Faith.” That’s nice. We’ll hang it on the wall, and put the picture you color up next to it. They’ll both help us think about the Savior.
Matt: I’ll color the picture!
Mandy: No, I’ll color it!
Mom: Would Jesus want you to fight about coloring His picture?
Matt: Let’s print two copies off the Internet.
Mandy: We can each color one!
Later
Matt: I know which of our pictures is colored better.
Mandy (rolling her eyes): Here it comes.
Matt: Neither! They both look great!
Mandy: You know, I think you’re right.

When I turned 12, I was very eager to go to the temple for the first time. My mother and I went onto FamilySearch to find some family names for me to take. When I went to the Cardston Alberta Temple, I was baptized for my great-grandmothers and great-aunts, and I felt so warm inside.
When I was 14, I began to attend the family history classes in my ward, but I had a hard time finding family names. I eventually set a goal to find my great-grandfather’s family, the Thomas family.
I found several records about William Alfred Thomas. It turns out that he was the first person in my family to go to South Africa, my birthplace. I searched for more information about him for a year, but I still couldn’t find much more about him or his family. I just could not shake the feeling that the Thomas family wanted to be found.
One day I received the distinct prompting to look for William’s wife, Francina. A number of records came up—I had finally found them! I ecstatically told my parents, and my grandfather confirmed it to be the correct line.
My brother and I have now been baptized and confirmed for five generations of the Thomas line, all because of perseverance and a special prompting!
Family history does not always come together immediately, but doing it truly does bring a light into your life.
Savannah B., Canada

I waited until I was 16 thinking that all the guys would ask me out. After a while of waiting, I started working on developing my gifts and talents and being a friend to others. When I stopped feeling depressed about the life I didn’t have, that was when I began to get asked out on dates. The people worth dating are the ones that look for personalities and abilities, not looks and popularity.
Krissy Coltrin, 16Idaho Falls, Idaho

The Prophet Joseph faithfully kept this first journal every day for nine days, then stopped for almost 10 months. He resumed in October 1833, when he left home on a proselytizing mission to Upper Canada. The entries during this mission are a rich source of insight into his sincerity and the spiritual and emotional dimensions of his personality. For example, Joseph recorded for October 12: “I feel very well in my mind. The Lord is with us, but [I] have much anxiety about my family.” Later that day he received a revelation assuring Sidney Rigdon and him of their families’ well-being (see D&C 100:1). On his return to Kirtland, Ohio, on November 4, 1833, Joseph dictated a journal entry to Oliver Cowdery, the second elder of the Church: “Found my family all well according to the promise of the Lord, for which blessings I feel to thank his holy name.”

As it turned out, I did marry. I was thirty-four, and my husband was thirty-seven. We wanted to begin our family quickly, but children did not come easily. We told Heavenly Father that if he would give us a child, we would dedicate that child to his service. When I was thirty-seven, our first child, a daughter, was born. We asked our Heavenly Father for another child and again promised that we would consecrate this child to his will. When I was almost forty, we had a son. We asked for more children but did not receive them.
Emily is now almost ten and Danny is seven, and we are trying to raise them in fulfillment of the promises that we have made. Like Latter-day Saint parents everywhere, we acknowledge that God has given us our children, and we are trying to help them learn to love and serve him.

One night at the very peak of her anxiety, this young mother rose from her bed, went into the other room, and talked to her Father in Heaven. She had remembered an incident in her own childhood. A great and noble woman had prayed in behalf of her afflicted husband and requested that, if the Lord were willing, she be allowed to carry her husband’s infirmities so that his service to the Lord would not be restricted. This sister, almost immediately, became stone deaf and remained so throughout her life, while her husband, miraculously healed, became a spiritual giant, a man of God, and a powerful leader in building the kingdom of God in that area. With the memory of this incident in her heart, this faithful mother supplicated the Father in her son’s behalf, asking if she might take her son’s infirmities upon herself. Of this incident she concluded, “I returned to my bed and went to sleep.”

It was game day in Vidor, Texas. There were signs up around town wishing the high school team good luck. Students, teachers, and administrators were wearing black and gold, the school colors. Everyone was positive and upbeat. They just didn’t mention that Vidor High had little chance of winning.
Because Vidor High School is in a region with much larger schools, it doesn’t win very often on the football field or on the basketball court, but that doesn’t affect the students’ attitudes.
They know what true winning is all about.
“We’re always up and looking for the good things,” says Rebecca Packard, student-body president. “Our spirit is awesome,” says Mollie Hoosier. “Everyone knows that about Vidor High.”
That attitude of looking for ways to win in life instead of in competition may be influenced by the student officers at Vidor High School. This past year, the LDS students (numbering 75 in a total of about 1,500) have been the leaders in the school. The student-body president, each class president, and many of the student council members are LDS. These young Mormons want to make a difference in their school and use their influence for good among their peers.
It’s a little unusual to find a school’s student leadership so dominated by LDS students in an area of the United States outside of Utah. But these young people have learned how to make the most out of high school and support each other in staying true to gospel teachings. Their friends at school can’t help but notice, and it’s making a difference in big ways and in little things.
For example, drinking, especially at weekend parties, was a big problem for their peers, so some of the LDS students started throwing their own parties and inviting everyone, as long as they followed the house rules.
“Dad announces the rules at our house,” says Priscilla Packard. “No tobacco; no alcohol; you have to be 14 to attend the party; no pairing off in the corners; and absolutely nobody outside in the cars. Then we dance, and talk, play games, and have contests to see who can do the most back flips in a row. One guy from school who had never been to one of our parties before said, ‘Wow, there’s no alcohol here, and I’m still having fun.’” The parties given by the LDS students are popular with everyone because it isn’t just the same old thing.
Then the LDS students have changed some small things, like the way the kids at their school slow dance. Instead of bear hugging as their schoolmates were doing at school dances, the Mormon kids chose to dance using the usual waltz position. It even became known as dancing “Mormon style.”
“It makes dancing more casual,” explained Brandie Carner. “You hesitate to ask people to dance when you don’t know if they are going to hang on you.”
“You can talk easier,” added Natalie Fawcett. “You’re more at ease.”
“It has changed at school,” said Brandie. “We had a school dance just the other week, and everyone was dancing Mormon style.”
How do you let your friends know your standards? A group of LDS students, who were talking about their high school, groaned in unison. The answers came fast and in a jumble. “Oh, everyone already knows. They know by what you do. They know because of our older brothers and sisters.” Voices overlapped, with several people explaining at once how they always had to be an example, because if they did something they weren’t supposed to, someone was sure to comment, “I didn’t know you Mormons did things like that.”
The reputation of what an LDS student is like precedes them. “The teachers know what to expect,” says Veronica Jenkins. “They know the Mormon kids will work hard and try to get good grades.”
“And if you slack off,” adds Brandie, “they’ll call your parents. Teachers know the Mormon parents care.”
The LDS students try to be good examples, and some of their fellow students can’t help but notice and want to know more. “I was always associating with them,” said Erika Redfield. “It was the example I noticed. Mormons seemed to always be sensitive to other people’s feelings. They were never fake or dishonest.”
When Erika was thinking about her future, planning her education and what she wanted to do, she felt a hole in her religious life. She called one of the LDS girls she knew at school and started asking about things her friend believed. Soon she was investigating the Church with the missionaries. Erika said, “My testimony came really slow at first, but every time I read something, I prayed about it. I had the feeling that it was true. Whenever I found the truth, I wanted to hear more.” But it wasn’t easy. Friends and acquaintances made sure she was well supplied with anti-Mormon literature. “I don’t know how I stood up to it all.” But Erika had found what she was looking for and was baptized.
Now Erika feels very much a part of the LDS group. “The peer group at school is awesome. They try hard to make you fit in. I could never repay them,” Erika says pausing, “but no one asks for anything in return.”
That’s part of the secret the LDS students at Vidor High have for sharing the gospel. They try to be friends with everyone. “There are lots of people out there who aren’t LDS who are good people,” says Priscilla Packard. “Like Erika. Even before she joined the Church, she was a great person. Find those good friends and socialize with them.”
And they try not to be obnoxious about letting their friends know what they believe. Here are some of their suggestions about letting your classmates know about the Church:
Molly Hoosier: “Don’t start by telling them that our church is the only true church. They think we’re being conceited and rude to them. And don’t put down other religions.”
Elizabeth Williamson: “Don’t ever start arguing. You have to stand up for the Church, but don’t get into an argument.”
Spencer Simpson: “Don’t get into far-out subjects.”
Priscilla Packard: “Take it slowly. Sometimes the thought of talking to missionaries is too intimidating. It makes them too nervous. Talk to them about the Church just as a friend.”
Erika Redfield: “Just in conversation, don’t make yourself seem superior to them just because you don’t do the things they do.”
Natalie Fawcett: “Stay away from parties and things that could be trouble. Stay strong.”
And most of all, these students agree, it’s important to live a life that illustrates what you believe. Example cannot be underrated. It speaks much louder than words.
Erika is telling the group about a boy in one of her classes who is getting ready to be baptized. When she tells them who it is, Spencer is amazed. He says, “I sat by him yesterday. That goes to show you that you have to be an example all the time because you never know what it will mean to the person next to you.”
It means something special to be LDS at Vidor High. It means something significant to be a good example. Student-body president Rebecca says, “At school, it’s cool to be good.”
And with an attitude like that, everyone can be a winner.
William and Joissine Williamson took a Mr. Busley into their home as a boarder. While living with them he talked a lot about his past and meeting the Mormons. He said Brigham Young was a good and wise leader. Mr. Williamson listened and did some thinking and finally way off in Texas in the early 1900s, he decided that if he ever got the chance he would join that church.
At noontime on January 9, 1900, two Mormon missionaries wearily made their way up the long lane that led to the Williamsons’ front door. William, looking out the window, exclaimed, “Them’s my men!”
When William and Joissine were baptized, their posterity, all nine children, were heirs to their conversion. They formed a small but united group amid great prejudice.
Their descendants make up the majority of the LDS students at Vidor High School.
Here’s some advice from the LDS students at Vidor High about getting more involved in high school:
Join different types of clubs. You never know how much fun you’ll have if you don’t join in.
Meet all different kinds of people. Don’t be with one person all the time.
Run for student offices. Peter LaPray says, “Don’t let anyone run unopposed. Run just for the fun of it, no matter if you win or not.”
Keep your grades up. Don’t procrastinate. Turn assignments in on time.
Take school seriously. Have fun, but remember you have to plan your schedule carefully, so when it’s time to graduate you’ve completed the classes you need.
Learn to set goals and finish them. Earn your Young Womanhood Medallion or your Eagle Scout Award. Maintain your standards at all costs.
Support other groups who are doing good things.

An area in which he has put the Lord first is in Sunday matches. Though football tournaments are often scheduled on Sunday, David decided at age 11 that he wouldn’t play on the Sabbath. His coach and manager respected him for this decision and worked around it with him. David relates how the Lord blessed him for his obedience: “In England, matches are often postponed because of bad weather. At the end of one season, all the Sunday matches that had been deferred were played midweek instead. I was able to play in all six games—and I scored 32 goals.” As a result, David earned the title of top scorer for the season and a reputation as “the boy who never plays on a Sunday.”

I have been asked many times why I joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and I have always told the story of meeting the missionaries at the house of a dear friend who had just been baptized. But with the passage of time, I have realized that before that first meeting many things prepared me to accept the gospel.
I was an active and energetic young woman, and my life was divided between spending time with friends and working out at the gym. Nothing else interested me. I had a passion for martial arts. I lived for the sport; it had become a way of life for me. In effect, it was my religion. I was very good and had acquired much skill. My pride increased as I became more and more recognized by others, especially since I was a woman in a sport dominated by men.
As time passed, I began to feel an unsettling sensation after each day’s workout. Often I felt out of breath, and my heart would race.
I soon learned that the continuous pressure of such a strenuous sport had aggravated a genetic predisposition toward irregular heartbeats. The pain intensified, and sometimes I could not even stand. Almost overnight I lost my self-sufficiency. A series of unfortunate medical decisions worsened my condition, and twice I came close to cardiac arrest.
Over a period of five years, I had two operations and made many visits to doctors and hospitals. Eventually I needed constant care from my parents.
While in the hospital I saw much suffering and pain, and I learned the necessity of loving others. I began to understand what was really important in life.
My soul had been changed, and I felt that someone was giving me a second chance at life. I started to wonder about God, who until then, I believed, had played no part in my life. I began to study various religions, and I was impressed by their common denominator of love. Then a friend told me about the missionaries who had brought her such happiness. I met with them and was baptized one month later.
Now I am thankful that I suffered, because suffering opened the way for me to hear the gospel. God truly has unusual ways of preparing His children.
Since accepting the gospel, I have had the privilege of sharing the truth with others. I have also been to the temple and have been greatly blessed. I am thankful to God to be able to work for Him. His gospel is truly a wonderful gift for me.

I started attending my new senior school last September. In a school of over a thousand students, I was the only Latter-day Saint. In my religion class of 30 people, only I and one other girl attend church of any kind. On my first day of class, my religion teacher, Mrs. Johnson*, asked us to name the holy books that are used in different religions. I said the Book of Mormon, and at first she wasn’t sure which church used it. I explained that I was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She asked me to choose my favorite scripture for the following week and also tell the class about my church.
The following week I read Moroni 10:4, which was the first scripture the missionaries shared with me and my mom. I told the class about the First Vision and how Joseph Smith received and later translated the gold plates. I was really nervous because my friends think that you are a geek if you go to church. I was afraid that they would make fun of me. But when I started speaking, the Spirit was with me, and everybody listened with interest. Afterward, they asked questions.
Since then, Mrs. Johnson has started reading the Book of Mormon and the Ensign, although she hasn’t yet come to church. Also, in every religion lesson we talk about my beliefs. And some of my friends are planning to come to church activities.
My prayer is that one day I will be just one of many Latter-day Saints at my school. Everyone deserves an opportunity to learn about Jesus Christ and His Church and return to live with Heavenly Father. If we keep the gospel to ourselves, we are being selfish. We should share it with everyone, no matter who they are. That is what Jesus Christ wants us to do, and I am trying to be like Him.