Gospel Story Finder

There are some things that form a common bond between Santosh and other teenagers all over the world. One of those things is the gospel. Santosh was introduced to the gospel via his uncle, Dr. Edwin Dharma Raju, who joined the Church in Samoa when he was on assignment from the government of India.

When Dr. Raju returned to India, he wanted his family to hear the gospel message, and he wrote to Church headquarters for missionaries to be sent to his family. Instead, Dr. Raju and his wife went on a short-term mission to teach the family themselves.

Santosh was eight years old when he and several family members accepted the gospel. The water tank on the roof of his Uncle Henry’s building was scrubbed and painted to serve as a baptismal font. The men and boys who attended the baptism were dressed in traditional white, loose-fitting Indian jackets and trousers. The women were dressed in white saris, the standard dress of Indian women, consisting of a long piece of cloth draped over the shoulder and wrapped around the body. The newly baptized family was to form the nucleus of the branch in Hyderabad.

Santosh is now a teacher in that branch. He and his brother Sanjay, 12, and sister Sunitha, 16, are the only youth there, but they take a very active part. Santosh arrives at the mission home, where church services are held, a half hour early each Sunday to prepare the sacrament. He is always ready to give a talk or teach a lesson to any age group. Sunitha is the branch chorister and teaches a Primary class, and Sanjay takes on various assignments and is often the first one to bear his testimony on fast Sunday.

Santosh is also preparing for a mission. “I have thought a lot about a mission,” he says. “I used to dream of going to a very remote island or a place where I could convert and baptize everyone. Now that they are calling Indian youth to serve in India, I would like to serve a mission here.”

His dreams also include medical school, which is extremely difficult to get into in his country. Of the 50,000 students who take examinations each year to apply, only 2,000 will be accepted. Only those with the highest grades can enter medical school.

Santosh, like many Indian children, has been going to school since he was three. He will graduate from “college,” the equivalent of American high school, at 17. In the meantime, he carries a stiff academic load.

His day starts before 6 A.M., when he hurries off for an hour session with a tutor. Since his classes at the private Christian school contain anywhere from 40–70 students, the time he spends with his tutor and four or five other students is essential.

He then comes home, prepares for school, reads the paper, and hops on the school bus. Once there, he attends eight classes, among them math, physics, biology, and three different language classes.

Santosh is in the 10th class, where it is crucial to be at the top. He has even had to give up most of the sports he likes so well, like cricket and badminton, in order to excel. He has to take major tests every month and exams every three months to determine his position in college.

After school, Santosh does homework and a little recreational reading until it’s time for the evening meal at 8:00 P.M. Then at 9:00 he’s off for another hour and a half with the tutor.

Although school takes up a major portion of his day, he still finds time for the Church and for scripture study. “I have a very strong testimony,” he says. “I thank my Heavenly Father for it. I know that the Book of Mormon, the Holy Bible, the Doctrine and Covenants, and Pearl of Great Price are companion scriptures and the word of God.”

That knowledge, plus the support of his family, are enough to sustain him in his minority status. “I hope I will have the strength to resist the temptations,” he says. “I love this church, and don’t ever want to go away from it.”

Cathryn stood quite breathless one bitter cold December day, watching Mr. VanDermere fight to steady his team of horses. His wagon, loaded with coal, had slid backward half the length of the arching, ice-covered bridge and was lodged against the support beam at the bridge’s mouth. Caught between the beam and the iced incline, Mr. VanDermere could neither back the horses up nor guide them forward. The bridge groaned as its wooden railing began to give way. The horses were fighting hard, the muscles of their backs, necks, and thighs bunching into knots as they struggled against the slippery ice and relentless wind. Would they break the rail and fall to the icy river below? If they did, they would take Mr. VanDermere with them, and all would be killed!
Cathryn’s mother, her arms laden with Christmas packages, opened the door to their home and went in, but Cathryn stood staring at the massive horses, her eyes glazed with fear. She had been terrified of horses ever since being knocked down and nearly killed five years earlier by Mrs. Johnson’s runaway mare.
“Cathryn, come in here!” Her mother’s voice shook her out of her memories. “Hurry!” Cathryn ran inside and found her mother at the kitchen stove, hurriedly emptying the ash bin into a sack. Soot and ash were wisping through the air, coating everything in her mother’s always spotless kitchen, including her mother! What a sight! “Run this ash to Mr. VanDermere so he can put it on the ice for the horses’ hooves to grip. Hurry! I’ll go to the neighbors for more.”
Cathryn didn’t move. Her mother knew that she was afraid of horses, and Mr. VanDermere’s horses were the largest beasts she had ever seen!
“Cathryn, I said hurry! We haven’t a minute to waste! You won’t have to go near the horses—just take the sack to Mr. VanDermere. Now run!”
As Cathryn stepped outside, the bitter wind caught her clothes and nearly toppled her to the ground. The gusts were so fierce that most people had stayed indoors. As she neared the bridge, she could see that both Mr. VanDermere and his horses were exhausted. When she got near the animals, the smell of sweat and fear hung in the air. Her heart pounded faster. What if the horses should step on her, or, worse, knock her off the bridge into the river? Her mind raced near panic. She knew that the ashes in her hand were Mr. VanDermere’s only hope, yet she stopped, too afraid to go any closer.
“Oh, Cathryn, you’d best not get too close, my dear!” Mr. VanDermere shouted breathlessly over the howling wind.
Cathryn took a few steps forward. “My mother sent me with a sack of ashes. She said that you could put them on the ice.”
“Oh, that would be most helpful!” Mr. VanDermere said. As he spoke, part of the bridge’s railing gave way and plunged to the icy depths below.
This again stopped Cathryn dead in her tracks. Fighting her fear, she tried to give herself reasons for going on. The wagon would already have fallen off the bridge if it hadn’t been lodged against the support beam. The wagon contained a full week’s wages for Mr. VanDermere. Losing it would leave his family without food. And if the wagon fell, so would the horses.
Cathryn thought about how lovely her own home was with Christmas decorations and food aplenty. She thought, too, about the VanDermere children, who had very little as it was. Their father couldn’t afford to lose the wagon or its contents, and he couldn’t replace the horses. And the children might lose not only their food, but their father!
“Cathryn, you’d best get back! The rest of the railing is about to go, and I can’t fight much longer!”
What a brave man he is! Cathryn thought. With a new surge of courage, she ran up the slick incline toward him. It was very slippery, and she fell more than once. Reaching the wagon at last, she tried to hand the sack to Mr. VanDermere.
“I can’t pour it myself, dear. I need to hold onto the team.”
Cathryn stared up at him, stricken with fear. Mr. VanDermere expected her to scatter the ashes! That meant getting close to the feet of the large beasts. They could crush her! But if she didn’t help, they’d all fall off the bridge any minute!
Opening the sack with shaking hands, Cathryn fought the wind as she tossed handfuls of ash under the front feet of the horses. They had a wild, fearful look in their eyes but seemed to sense that she was there to help. She went down the incline a bit and scattered ashes beneath their hind legs. Climbing to the crest of the bridge, she backed down toward the horses, scattering the remaining ash.
Within seconds the broad hooves began to grip the ash. It was working! The horses found sure footing and clambered over the peak of the bridge. Mr. VanDermere cautiously guided the team down the other side, then climbed from the wagon and stood panting heavily.
When he’d caught his breath, he walked back to Cathryn. “You have saved my life and the lives of my horses! Plus my wagon! What a wonderfully brave thing you have done!”
Cathryn started to cry from relief that the nightmare was finally over. She hugged Mr. VanDermere. “Just have a happy Christmas, sir.”
Cathryn’s mother came running up. “Oh, Cathryn, are you all right? I’m sorry it took me so long. I had a hard time finding anyone with ashes to give. I’m afraid this is all I was able to gather.” She handed a small sack to Mr. VanDermere.
“This is a brave little girl you have here, ma’am. She saved my life and the lives of my horses.” He tucked the sack into his oversized coat pocket and patted it. “Thank you. I’ll hang onto this in case I need it.” He tipped his hat to them and went back over the bridge to attend to his still-trembling horses.
Cathryn’s mother hugged her tightly. “I’m so proud of you,” she said, “and so grateful that you’re safe! How about some hot cocoa?”
Cathryn smiled yes. Starting for home, she noticed that her hands were scraped from her falls. She was covered with ash, and her winter coat was torn. But she didn’t care. She felt good. In fact, she had never felt better!

During humankind’s early push into space, the unmanned rockets had no windows. But by the Apollo 8 mission to the moon, the astronauts had one. While floating in space, they were struck by the power of seeing our earth and took this spectacular image, capturing the whole world’s attention! Those astronauts experienced a sensation so powerful it has been given its own name: the overview effect.
NASA
Viewing from a new vantage point changes everything. One space traveler said it “reduces things to a size that you think everything is manageable. … We can do this. Peace on earth—no problem. It gives people that type of energy … that type of power.”

Elder McKay’s horse Dandy wasn’t as wise. He could escape any pen or corral by opening the latch or chewing off the lead rope.
Elder McKay: That horse has done it again.
Dandy wandered into the street and was hit by a car. He survived but did not learn his lesson.
Elder McKay: That should teach you not to go running off, Dandy!
One day Dandy escaped again. He and another horse wandered into an old house used to store grain and started eating poisoned oats—bait for gophers.
Elder McKay was very sad to lose his favorite horse. He often told Dandy’s story to show the danger of disobeying rules.
Elder McKay: Young people, you must always know where the limits are. Keep the commandments and you will be safe.

When I received the invitation to respond to this question there immediately flashed through my mind the recollection of a teenage experience of many years ago. In the stake where I lived, the young people were planning a week-long camping trip that would extend through a Monday holiday. This involved being in the mountains on Sunday. The general policy guideline was for Church groups to avoid Sunday camping, but those responsible for the planning of this camping trip felt that by carefully working out a program to include the regular Sunday meetings at the campsite they could overcome any objections that might be raised. Approval to go forward was sought from the stake president. The young lady serving as the spokesman for the group explained what was being planned and concluded by saying, “We feel that by getting close to nature we can get closer to the Lord and can increase our spirituality.”
The stake president listened patiently and then in a kindly tone replied, “I agree with you that these things can happen, but my observation is that they usually don’t. I have no concern about the outcome of the Church meetings being planned. It’s what happens before and after. The minute church is out, the young folks are back in their grubbies and ready for play.”
The stake president was identifying a problem common to many of us, where we rationalize that attendance at church qualifies us for Sabbath day observance, and that this can be followed with activities not always in keeping with the spirit of the Sabbath.

“I didn’t go to the same seventh and eighth grade that all the people in my neighborhood and ward did, but I transferred back during my freshman year in high school. I had a hard time fitting in because they were all together and I was all alone.”
Another part of creativity is recognizing what abilities you truly do have. Not all talents involve being able to perform in front of others. For example, remember how Ivey talked about having a tough time fitting in at a new school?
“There was a girl in one of my classes that I didn’t know at all,” Ivey explains. “One day she said hi to me. I found out her name. We would see each other in the halls. She would ask me how I was doing or help me understand my homework. She was really nice and genuinely interested. She tried to learn a little about me. She invited me to a basketball game. I started going with her friends and integrated into that group. Because of what she did for me, I developed confidence. She had a talent for reaching out.”

This was not the only time Emma protected priceless scripture. On the couple’s journey to Pennsylvania, she helped hide the plates in a barrel of beans. During the translation process, Emma gave Joseph a linen cloth to cover the plates as they sat on a kitchen table during the day and bought a red leather box for the written paper manuscripts. She also asked her brother-in-law for a box, which she and Joseph kept under their bed and where the plates were locked each night.

I have always been fascinated by the wild outdoors. I love the mountains. I love the ocean. I love the rivers. I love the animals. I think that God’s creations are almost beyond any description in their beauty and value.
When I was 16 years old I wanted to see more of the outdoors, so my mother gave me permission to work in Alaska for the summer. I rode an old propeller plane there and found a job working in a grocery store.
I worked with a lay minister who was quite interested in converting me to his beliefs. Day after day we discussed the scriptures, but it was hard for me to defend my faith because, frankly, I didn’t know it well enough. I struggled to explain the Joseph Smith story and the revelations he had received in a way the minister could accept.
I finally realized I needed some help. So I looked up the full-time missionaries in the area and asked them if they would teach me more about the gospel. That summer I often spent an hour or two with the missionaries before talking with the minister, who had become a very good friend.
One particular night I awoke from sleep. I felt concerned that I couldn’t teach the gospel very well, even though I was coming to know it was true.
Outside the summer sun was shining the brightest fluorescent colors on the Alaska mountain range. The clouds hovered about two-thirds of the way up the slope, making it look like the mountain was floating in the air. It was one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen. It is hard to describe the beauty I saw and the reverence I felt for Heavenly Father’s creations.
I dropped to my knees and asked Heavenly Father to hear my prayer. I sincerely wanted to know that the Book of Mormon was true, and I sincerely wanted to know if what my mother had taught me all those years was what I should believe. I wanted to know that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was the true Church of God upon this earth.
That night—although it was still daylight in the Alaskan frontier—I came to know that the Church is true. I came to know that the Book of Mormon is the word of God. I came to know the importance of eternal relationships with my mother, deceased father, and other family members.
I stood up the next morning a different person because I knew that I could bear my testimony—that these things had been revealed to me by the Holy Spirit. The minister couldn’t handle that. He could debate the doctrine, but he could not argue against my witness that I knew the Church was true.
Though I remembered the names of the missionaries who taught me, I lost track of them for many years. In 1998 one of those missionaries was called to be a General Authority. Elder Stephen A. West was one of the key figures in helping me gain a complete testimony of the gospel. As General Authorities, he and I were assigned to the North America Southeast Area Presidency and were able to talk about our experiences that had happened so many years ago. I shall forever remember that Alaskan adventure I experienced as a 16-year-old boy.

I have done that. Once I had an experience that caused me immense anxiety. It had nothing to do with disobedience or transgression but with a vitally important human relationship. For some time I poured my heart out in urgent prayer. Yet try as I might, I could find no solution, no settling of the powerful stirring within me. I pled for help from that Eternal Father I have come to know and trust completely. I could see no path that would provide the calm that is my blessing generally to enjoy. Sleep overcame me. When I awoke, I was totally at peace. Again I knelt in solemn prayer and asked, “Lord, how is it done?” In my heart, I knew the answer was His love and His concern for me. Such is the power of sincere prayer to a compassionate Father.

My son, Chris, was in his senior year in high school and was enjoying a fourth year in the choir. He had worked hard, and his voice was very good, yet he had never tried out for the annual high school talent show before. This was the year he decided to try.
Chris said that he had decided to sing “How Great Thou Art.” I knew it was a song very close to his heart. I asked him why he would sing such a spiritual song in that setting. He said that he and his sisters had taken a lot of flack about believing in Jesus Christ. Many people at school and in the choir had accused them of not being real Christians. He felt strongly that this song would help settle the question once and for all that he did believe in and love the Savior.
I was scared for him and said I would support him in whatever he did. After successfully auditioning, Chris was notified that he was to be the last performer out of 18 acts.
On the night of the performance, the crowd went wild over the more extreme acts. Then there came a girl singing a country song. She had a lovely voice, but because the crowd would not calm down, she couldn’t hear her music and got off the beat. The crowd kept whistling and yelling, basically driving her off the stage.
At intermission Chris left the performers’ waiting area and made his way to us at the back of the gym. I wanted to be encouraging, but I also wanted to take him home. He calmly said, “I saw what the crowd did, and went off by myself backstage and prayed. I still feel like I should sing that song. It doesn’t matter whether they like it or not. I will have given my testimony of Christ, and that is why I came.”
I still felt afraid for him. Even though the director of the program had spoken to the crowd about their behavior, there was still a lot of noise. Two acts before Chris was a very popular rap group. They got the crowd going at such a high level we just sat in the middle of the noise and watched. After this group left the stage, about half the kids in the gym got up and left as if the show were over.
The act just before Chris was a blind girl and her friend playing a guitar duet. It changed the feeling and spirit in the gym. It was beautiful and sweet. As Chris moved onto the stage, we all prayed that he would do his best and that somehow it would be a positive experience. As his mother, I felt that I had let my son walk into the lion’s den and only the Lord could save him.
Chris’s music teacher had given him a mouth harp. That was the first sound we heard. Then his voice, sweet and clear, came across the gym to us. I could feel the feelings of love he had for the Savior as he sang all three verses. When he finished, half of the crowd gave him a standing ovation.
We waited around to hear the judges’ results. Chris had told us they usually voted for the group that was most popular with the crowd. Still, we decided to wait and see how things went. Then the judges announced the first-place winner as Christopher Tucker. We were all yelling, jumping up and down, and hugging each other.
What a night! We felt that winning was nice, but the most important thing was seeing the faith that our son had put into action.
Editor’s Note: Christopher is now serving a mission in the North Carolina Charlotte Mission.

Sister A. J. Hough, also of the Kettering Ward, tells of how emphasis on For the Strength of Youth has helped her be a better parent: “Having three teenagers, I wanted to ensure that I, too, was living the standards completely. I was keen to find ways I could ‘raise the bar’ and set a good example. I decided on the section on ‘Sabbath Day Observance’ and have set myself new goals to improve the example I am personally. I hope I can be a better influence to those I love the most—my family. We now use the booklet during family home evening. And whether we’re being creative with our family activities or planning ahead to fully observe the Sabbath, we use these standards to guide us.”

I’m not a baby anymore. I’m a Star A in Primary, and I can tie my shoes and count to ten! When I was a baby, I couldn’t do those things, but now I’m getting BIG.
I have two sisters. Their names are Katy and Jennifer. Sometimes they forget that I’m getting big and call me Baby Benjamin. When I tell them, “I’m not a baby anymore,” they always say that they’re sorry. Mom says that when I was born, my sisters loved me so much that they wanted to hold me and rock me all the time and that they got so used to calling me Baby Benjamin when I was little that it’s hard for them to stop now. So sometimes I have to remind them.
Like last week. We were in the garden, and Katy and Jennifer were helping Mom pull weeds, and I was pulling up the rhubarb. Mom lets me eat a stalk of it right out of the garden before it’s cooked into jam. She says that she doesn’t know how I can stand to eat it plain, but I like it. And I never, ever eat any of the leaves. I know that they could make me very sick. But the stalk won’t. It’s a pretty color—sort of red and green—and it tastes real sour! It makes me shiver and pucker up like I’m going to give someone a great big kiss. Mom always laughs when she sees me eating it.
Anyway, I was sitting in the dirt eating my rhubarb when Katy and Jennifer started talking about the hat contest again. The teenagers in our ward were going to have a Children’s Day for all the kids in Primary. Katy was going, and Jennifer was going, and so was I.
There was going to be a hat contest, and Katy decided to wear one of Dad’s old golfing caps. Jennifer chose a sun hat that looks like a pioneer hat. I looked and looked, but I couldn’t find the right hat to wear. Jennifer said that I could wear Dad’s baseball hat, but I wanted to choose my own. I was still thinking about it when I climbed into bed that night. And that’s when a good idea just popped into my head. I decided that I wouldn’t tell anybody about my good-idea hat until the hat contest. It would be a surprise.
When Children’s Day finally came, I got up early and put my hat in a big paper sack. Katy and Jennifer kept asking me to show them my hat, but I told them that they would have to wait.
I had to wear my Sunday shoes because my sneakers didn’t have any shoelaces in them. Katy and Jennifer had tried to find new laces for me before we left, but Mom said that we were all out. I told them not to worry about it, because I thought my shoelaces were just taking a vacation.
When we got to the meetinghouse, Katy and Jennifer put their hats up on a shelf. They wanted to put mine up there, too, but I didn’t want anybody to see my hat until the contest. I had to hold on to my bag with one hand while we played games and ran races and ate cupcakes, but that was OK.
Then it was time for the contest. Katy and Jennifer put their hats on.
“Do you want me to help you put your hat on, Benjamin?” Jennifer asked.
“No, thank you,” I said. “I can do it myself.”
Katy and Jennifer went into the room where the hat contest was going to be, and I went with them. All the other kids had their hats on already, so I decided that it was time for me to put mine on too. I reached into my bag and pulled out three small stalks of rhubarb with lots of leaves on them. Katy’s eyes got very big.
Jennifer looked surprised, too, but not the kind of surprised that I was expecting. “Oh, Benjamin,” she said. “You were supposed to bring a hat! This is a hat contest!”
“This is my hat!” I told her, and I put my rhubarb hat on my head.
“So that’s where your shoelaces went,” Katy said. “You used them to tie the stalks of rhubarb together! Look, Jennifer, it really is a hat!”
The tied-together stalks stuck straight up in the air, and the big leaves sort of hung down all over my head.
Katy and Jennifer were still giggling when Sister Brown started to call the names of the winners. Danny Lopez won the prize for the biggest hat, and Jamie Jones got a prize for having the hat with the most flowers on it. When I heard Sister Brown call my name for the most unusual hat, I was surprised. She shook my hand and gave me a coloring book, and Katy and Jennifer just kept saying, “I can’t believe it! Benjamin’s rhubarb hat won a prize!”
When we got home, I held out the coloring book for Mom to see.
“What’s this?” Mom asked.
“A prize!” I told her.
“He won it for his hat,” Katy said. And between the three of us, we told Mom all about my rhubarb hat.
“Oh, Benjamin,” Mom exclaimed with a big smile, “I’m so proud of you! But where is your hat? Let me see it.”
Nobody said anything for a minute, then Jennifer spoke up.
“He can’t.”
“Why not?” Mom looked at me, puzzled.
“Well-l-l-l”—I gulped and grinned—“I ate it on the way home!”

One of the hardest things for many of you is modesty. How can we apply the spiritual power of our baptism to the principle of modesty? We hope one of the things that makes you different from the world is the way you dress. Marcie Matthews, a Laurel from Chicago, Illinois, shares her story:
“1998 was a year that I was able to see the results of many Young Women lessons, talks, and advice come into play. I am an average Mormon girl. Being able to keep my life this steady and strong has not been easy. I make goals all the time to help strengthen my testimony and my standards.
“Recently we had a Mutual activity on the importance of modesty. Every lesson before I felt like I was a modest dresser, but I knew there was still something I could change—my shorts and the length of my skirts. It was the one weakness that I knew I had but had placed far behind in my head. Everyone wore short shorts, Daisy Dukes, and miniskirts, and I had bought mine with my own money. Then I heard the lesson on modesty. I went home wanting to go straight to my closet and throw away everything that was not modest so it wouldn’t be there to tempt me. After, I told my parents. I guess I was looking for them to tell me that there was no problem in the way I dressed and then let me go.
“Later that night my dad told me he was proud of me and that he would like to buy me a couple of knee-length dresses for church. The next step was to go through all my clothes and give away everything. It was hard for me to part with my favorite skirts and the shorts that I loved so much, but I did. You will never see me in short shorts or short skirts again.
“I have never felt better about myself. I love being able to walk into the temple and church and feel like I am a child of God and am representing Him … by the clothes that I wear.
“I challenge every young woman to take this step. It will help you find out who you are and what you stand for. When we have to give up something that is a part of us, the blessings will pour in more than you can imagine” (letter in possession of Young Women office).

I remember so well how my father would talk to the Lord when he used to call us together for family prayer. He didn’t just say a few words and then send us off to the fields. Instead he knelt with us and told the Lord about some of our weaknesses and some of our problems where we had failed.
“Eldon didn’t do exactly what he should have done today. We are sorry that he made this mistake. Kindly forgive him, and we feel sure, Heavenly Father, that he will try to do what is right. Let thy Spirit be with him and bless him so that he can be a good boy.”
In the mornings Father used to pray, “Let thy blessings attend us as we go about our duties so that we may do what is right and return tonight to make a report.” This always gave us greater strength to meet and overcome temptations for we knew that we would be reporting to the Lord at night.
I am going to report to the Lord tonight, I used to think. And this thought helped me to live a better life during the day.

I heard from a mother of five small children in South Carolina. She had injured her back and was totally bedfast. She wrote to me of the “little mercy squads” in her ward who had cared for her night and day: “They fed me, conquered my mending pile, cleared the tears from my eyes, and administered therapy in the night. All the time they assured me it was no bother; they just wanted to learn more charity and just needed someone to practice on.”

Sometimes a daughter can rescue a parent in times of storm when she cares enough to help. I know a family with a dad who has had to move from job to job. In his kind of work, everyone is getting laid off. One day his turn came. He might have come home and called his wife into the other room and said, “My dear, we don’t have enough money to pay the bills, and I know how much Julie wants that expensive sweater. I told her we would try to get it for her. I don’t want to disappoint her. What am I going to do?” There might be some teenage daughters who would have said, “But all of the other kids get new things. We deserve it. Besides, Dad promised.”
But that wasn’t the way it happened. Dad came home. He didn’t have to say anything. Julie and her sister knew. Julie didn’t say, “Dad what are you going to do?” Her mom told me that she put her arm around his shoulder and said, “Oh Dad, we can help.” How do you think her dad felt? Do you have any idea how her mom must have felt?
Since that time Julie has been working two jobs, twelve hours a day, to pay for her tuition to college this fall. On the day her twelve-year-old brother would not be able to go to camp because he had no suitable pants to wear, Julie received her pay from both jobs. Her mom told me that she held out the money for her tithing, held back the portion she must save each week for her college tuition, and had enough left to take her brother shopping for the much needed pants. How do you think her brother felt? Do you have any idea how Julie must have felt?

It took nearly a year for Helio da Rocha Camargo, a former minister in another church, to decide to be baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. A short while later, his wife, Nair Belmira da Rocha Camargo, decided to follow her husband’s example and be baptized as well.
At that time, Nair was pregnant with the couple’s son, whom they would name Milton. The Camargos’ unified decision to join the Church would forever bless future generations of their family.

When my wife, Sandra, and I were called to serve in the South Africa Durban Mission, we began looking for a community service project. I had been a member of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir for over 20 years, and my wife, a library aide, had conducted story time in an elementary school. When our mission president decided to open missionary work in a nearby township, we knew this was our chance.
We visited the township and discovered that there were no libraries in the schools, just a small community library in the town. The young elders introduced us to the library director. We explained to her that we would like to hold a weekly story time for children. She was skeptical, but after some thought she agreed to get the word out and we could try.
On the first day five children attended. Gradually more came. After several months we enlisted the help of a young lady, a recent convert, who spoke beautiful English and Zulu. Attendance at story time grew, and the director and parents were excited about what was happening.
The Zulu people love to sing, so we added simple songs and rhymes to our story time. By the end of our mission, we were holding two or three sessions of song and story time a week to accommodate the more than 100 children who attended. What a blessing it was when we would see the children elsewhere and they would start singing our songs and reciting our rhymes to us.
Another blessing came out of our service in this area. As the local Church membership grew and we needed a place to start holding our Sunday meetings, the library director insisted that we use the library at no charge.
We are so grateful that the Lord helped us find a way to use our talents, serve the community, and help open an area of the mission.

Wishing to join the Saints in Nauvoo, Jane and eight members of her family joined other converts and traveled from Connecticut to Buffalo, New York, in October 1843. There the others in their group boarded a boat to continue the journey, but the Manning family were denied passage because of their race. Jane and her family began walking the eight hundred miles to Nauvoo.

In her journal, she wrote, “We walked until our shoes were worn out and our feet became sore and cracked open.”

When the Manning family reached Peoria, Illinois, the sheriff threatened to put them in jail because they did not have papers to prove that they were free. Finally Jane convinced him that they had never been slaves.

Frightened by the experience, they moved on. They came to a river and crossed it by walking into the stream until the icy water swirled around their necks. As they continued their trek, they were often cold, hungry, and frightened. Sometimes they found shelter, but often they had to sleep in the open, even when snow fell. They relied on their faith and each other, and when conditions became unbearable, singing hymns and praying kept them going.

When they reached Nauvoo, Orson Spencer directed them to the home of the Prophet. Joseph and Emma Smith welcomed them, inviting the Mannings to stay at the Mansion House until they found homes. Eventually all the members of the Manning family found jobs except Jane. The Prophet and his wife urged her to stay with them.

Jane did stay for several months. When the Prophet was martyred, Jane grieved for him, saying, he was “the finest man I ever saw on earth.”

Following Joseph’s death, Jane lived with President Brigham Young’s family until the Saints fled Nauvoo. During that time, she met and married Isaac James, another free Black, who was also a member of the Church.

After the Saints left Nauvoo in 1846, Jane gave birth to a son, Silas, at Winter Quarters. When the first pioneers left Winter Quarters in 1847, the James family were in the lead company of the main encampment.

Jane’s family struggled during their first years in the Salt Lake Valley, and though they lacked even the most basic necessities, Jane shared what little she did have with her neighbors. When Brother Lyman, a neighbor, received a call to serve a mission in California, he left his family with few provisions. His wife, Eliza Partridge Lyman, wrote, “Jane James let me have two pounds of flour, it being half of what she had.”

Jane worked hard to provide for her family, spinning and weaving cloth, making her own soap, and raising a large garden. She also worked as a laundress to earn much needed cash. Just as it seemed the family was starting to prosper, Jane’s husband left them. Twenty years later, he returned and made his peace with Jane and the Church. Jane held his funeral in her home when he died in 1891.

Despite her meager earnings, Jane James donated to the building funds of the Logan, St. George, and Manti temples, as well as to the Lamanite Mission. When asked how she managed to care for her family and still contribute to the building of the kingdom, she replied, “I pay my tithes and offerings, keep the Word of Wisdom, go to bed early, and rise early. I try in my feeble way to set a good example to all.”

Jane died in 1908. President Joseph F. Smith and other General Authorities spoke at her funeral, praising her unwavering faith and commitment to the gospel.

As a young boy, I knew I wanted to be involved with space travel and the great adventure of exploring the “final frontier.” Engineering was a good career to help me. I studied hard and took classes in math, science, and engineering. I also learned that listening, communicating, and public speaking were important too. These skills prepared me to work for the USA’s National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA).
At first I was a space shuttle flight director. Later I became director of the space shuttle program. I planned the shuttle missions to space and managed the missions from launch through landing. I worked with hundreds of engineers, scientists, and astronauts to put the shuttle together and have a successful mission.
Watching the giant space shuttle blast off from Kennedy Space Center was a thrill every time I saw it. With a rush of sounds that shook the ground, the space shuttle roared to life. In just eight minutes, the shuttle soared miles above the earth’s surface, traveling more than 25 times the speed of sound. I loved working with others to accomplish this goal together.
My priesthood quorum and Boy Scout activities helped me develop leadership skills for my career. As I grew, the principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ helped me as well. President Thomas S. Monson teaches, “When the time for decision arrives, the time for preparation is past.”* This simple idea helped prepare me for my life and for every space shuttle mission. In my job, I have been able to witness the majesty of the universe and God’s creations.