Gospel Story Finder

During my junior year in high school the principal asked me to run for vice president of the student body. It was a life-changing experience for me, because I had never considered such a thing before. I didn’t say yes at first, but I thought about it, and the Holy Ghost confirmed that it was the right thing for me to do. It scared me, but I ran and won the election. From that time to now, a whole different world has opened up as I gained confidence. Listening to the Holy Ghost helped me know I could become more than I had ever dreamed of becoming.

I visited a ward in the Altiplano of Bolivia. It is a very poor area. The people speak Spanish and Quechua, but most of them do not know how to read either language because they have never had the opportunity to learn. After the meeting, I talked with an eleven-year-old boy. On the wall of the building were pictures of the members of the First Presidency and the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. This young boy pointed to each of the Brethren and named every one of them. Then he said to me, “Will you please tell President Benson that I am reading the Book of Mormon?” He was learning to read by reading the Book of Mormon. I said to him, “Let me see if you really know how to read by reading 1 Nephi 3:7.” [1 Ne. 3:7] He turned to it quickly and said, “I can read it, but I don’t need to because I know that scripture by heart.” He then recited it perfectly.

What’s different about family home evening at the Murphy house? At first glance, not much, you might think.
Seventeen-year-old Mandy (short for Amanda), from Vashon, Washington, is sitting relaxed with her stepmom and dad in the living room of their home, discussing current events and how they tie in to a gospel topic. The scriptures are ready for reference, and they are really paying attention to each other’s thoughts and feelings.
But that’s where much of the similarity to many Latter-day Saint families ends. You see, Mandy is a Church member, and her father, Brian, and stepmother, Robin, are not.
“This is quite a change for our family,” Mandy explains. “It started when I joined the Church. I was led to the Church at the appropriate time, when it really appealed to me. It was so comforting and the families in the Church were so strong, and I really needed that.”
According to Mandy, no particular person really initiates family home evening each week, but after she explained the concept of family home evening to her parents, they were willing to try it.
“We spent time together before, but now it’s more organized. We don’t usually stress studying scriptures because my mom’s not really comfortable with that yet, but every once in a while, my dad and I do. We play games, and sometimes my dad will read us articles from the newspaper and we’ll discuss them.
“We also try to get to know each other better. We do that by just basically sitting down and looking at each other, talking with each other. I’ve come to respect and love my parents a lot more since we’ve started having family home evening.
“Because of the Church, the influence of the Spirit, and the time we spend in family home evening, I have a much better relationship with my parents than I ever could have imagined.”

The enduring note in Heidi’s life is the gospel. In a class taught by a favorite teacher, Heidi and her classmates were asked if anyone was a member of another church besides the Norwegian state church. Heidi and another boy were the only ones who raised their hands. She was then asked if she would take class time to answer questions. She talked about the Church and answered questions for a solid hour. Then the class requested a second hour. Heidi had lived and learned in such a way that she was prepared for this opportunity, just as she was prepared for the other opportunities that have come to her.

When you think about being fashionably dressed, you probably think about exotic places—places like Milan, London, Paris, and New York. Or, if you’re not into high fashion, you might think about places a little closer to home. Perhaps the local shopping mall or discount store are the first places that pop into your mind when you need new clothes.
But it’s probably pretty safe to say that no matter who you are, when you think about new clothes, Slidell, Louisiana, doesn’t figure into your thoughts.
Unless, of course, Slidell is where you live.
Some of the youth in Slidell were having a difficult time keeping the standard of wearing modest clothing. And while it’s true that modesty can be a challenge no matter where you live, in Slidell it can be particularly difficult.
“It gets very hot here,” says Kelly Skinner. “Even when you know your standards, it can be a temptation to wear immodest clothing.”
And it’s not just the weather that makes it difficult.
“Most of us go to school with just one or two other members,” says Kristen Davis. “Sometimes you feel like you’re the only one who is trying to be modest. It can make you feel kind of weird.”
Many of the youth in Slidell were wearing modest clothing despite the challenges. But with fashion trends leaning toward short, sleeveless, or otherwise inappropriate styles, the Slidell Louisiana Stake youth committee decided to take action.
“We tried to find a way to make modest dressing fun,” says Kristen.
As the youth committee met together to find a solution to the problem of immodest and inappropriate dress, they talked about why the youth in their stake might choose clothing that isn’t in keeping with Church standards.
“First, we decided that part of the problem is that to find modest clothing, you have to work a little harder,” says Kristen, who serves on the youth committee. “In most stores, there will be lots of immodest choices and only a few modest ones.”
But the youth committee knew there were ways to dress well without compromising standards. After all, most of them were doing it successfully—their closets were full of good examples. And what better way to demonstrate good fashion sense than by putting on a fashion show?
“None of us who are participating as models went out and bought new clothes,” says Shawna Windom. “We all just went to our closets and pulled out things that we wear all the time.”
But the fashion show was only part of the answer to this problem.
“It can be really hard to keep your standards when you feel as if you’re the only one doing it,” says Aaron Martin, another youth committee member. “We wanted to somehow create a feeling of unity so that when the people from our stake are at school, they’ll remember that they’re not living the standards all by themselves.”
So Aaron talked with other youth in his ward, and he and his friend Jacob Snell read For the Strength of Youth. Then he and Jacob wrote a contract of sorts; those who signed it would agree to live the dress standards they outlined.
“Some guys think that modesty is only a standard for girls to keep,” says Jacob. “But how you dress sends messages to other people, and that’s true for boys and girls. It shows other people that you respect them, as well as yourself, when you dress appropriately.”
The night of the fashion show, the runway is ready, the refreshments are waiting, and there is a bit of chaos in the dressing rooms. With youth modeling everything from jeans to prom dresses and tuxedos, it’s hard to navigate the hallways. But even with all the excitement, it’s easy to see that the youth are not only modestly dressed but fashionably dressed as well.
Homemade New Era posters, touting the benefits of dressing modestly and appropriately, line the cultural hall walls. The lights dim slightly, and the music begins to play. Boys model clothing suitable for hiking—shorts that reach the knees and heavy boots—as well as appropriate attire for passing the sacrament. Girls wear everything from jeans and sneakers to dresses for the spring formal.
When the show ends, everyone has a chance to sign the modesty agreement. As a reminder of the promise they’ve made, everyone receives a CTR ring. Throughout the year, the agreement will be displayed at stake dances and other events to remind the youth of what they’ve agreed to.
“Being in this program has made me think a little differently about making clothing choices,” says Krystina Quist. “I think I’m more careful about what I choose when I’m in the store now.”
Many of the young men also felt that the fashion show was a worthwhile effort.
“I’m glad we did this activity,” says Bradley Hogan. “I feel good when I follow the standards, and I’m glad this might help other people do it too.”
For most of the youth in Slidell, the fashion show and modesty agreement won’t mean a huge change. Perhaps just a few items of clothing will be thrown out or forgotten, and maybe a little more thought will go into clothing selection. But for the most part, this lesson was just an enhancement for an already great group of youth.
“The kids at school know who we are,” says Shawna. “They watch what we do, and dressing modestly just makes us seem like a class act.”
So from now on, when you seek fashion inspiration, you might look a little further than pictures of runway models wearing the creations of fancy designers. Think about a youth group in Louisiana helping each other stay strong. Then think about yourself and the clothes hanging in your closet. They may not be high fashion, but if they are in keeping with high standards, it will be just the kind of style you want.

Many faithful Latter-day Saints have been warned by the Spirit, preventing injury or death. Among these was President Wilford Woodruff, who said:
“When I got back to Winter Quarters from the pioneer journey (1847), President Young said to me, ‘Brother Woodruff, I want you to take your wife and children and go to Boston and stay there until you can gather every Saint of God in New England and Canada and send them up to Zion.’
“I did as he told me. It took me two years to gather up everybody, and I brought up the rear with a company (there were about one hundred of them). We arrived at Pittsburgh one day at sundown. We did not want to stay there, so I went to the first steamboat that was going to leave. I saw the captain and engaged passage for us on that steamer. I had only just done so when the spirit said to me, and that, too, very strongly, ‘Don’t go aboard that steamer, nor your company.’ Of course, I went and spoke to the captain, and told him I had made up my mind to wait.
“Well, that ship started and had only got five miles down the river when it took fire, and three hundred persons were burned to death or drowned. If I had not obeyed that spirit and had gone on that steamer with the rest of the company, you can see what the result would have been.”

Even though I’m 12, I still love reading the Friend. If I am worried or feel unsafe, the Friend is always there. Not long after the December 2004 tsunami, my family and I were watching the news on television. There were pictures of children who lost their parents or who were lost themselves. I began to feel sick and shaky. I asked my brother to read the Friend to me. The Friend helped me stop shaking that night, and it has also helped me with other things. THANKS!Jessica C., age 12, Washington

In 1972 my husband, Giuseppe, and I—both originally from Italy—decided to immigrate with our young family to Australia. At that time we knew nothing of the difficult but wonderful spiritual journey still ahead.
As our three children began to grow up, I became concerned about their religious education. I had been reared in Italy’s dominant religion, and I was familiar with a number of others. But I didn’t feel any of them were right for my children.
One sunny day in 1980, I took the children to the park. As I sat under a tree watching them play, I began to think once again about which religion to teach them. I looked up into the sky and uttered a brief, sincere prayer. “Father in Heaven,” I said, “I am so confused about all these religions. I want to teach my children the truth. If the true Church is on this earth, I ask Thee to help me find it.”
Two days later I was talking to a neighbor when I saw two young missionaries walking down the street. My heart beat hard, and I heard a voice inside me say, Call those missionaries. My neighbor tried to dissuade me, but the voice was insistent: Talk to them. So I did.
I discovered that they belonged to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Something about them impressed me, and although I didn’t speak English well and they didn’t speak Italian, I invited them to my home.
The missionaries told us that the true Church had been restored and that it had a prophet and apostles, just as in Christ’s Church anciently. They told us about the Prophet Joseph Smith, about how he saw Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ and organized the Church under divine authority. It all made perfect sense to me, and a wonderful spirit enveloped us. I felt that Heavenly Father was answering my prayer.
The missionaries began visiting us. When they had finished the discussions, they asked if we wanted to be baptized. I was excited about being baptized, but Giuseppe was not as sure. Nevertheless, he and I and the two oldest children became members of the Church.
One week later some of my husband’s friends had a long talk with him. They got him to drink alcohol, and they said a lot of negative things against the Church. He came home angry and told me he didn’t want to have anything to do with the Church. He said the children could not go to services, and if I went by myself, he would not let me in when I came home.
I felt very confused. I went into the bedroom and curled up on the bed. I thought about everything my husband had said. Then I prayed and asked Heavenly Father to help me.
I soon fell asleep and had a beautiful dream. In my dream, I was with a large group of people. Half were on the left, and half were on the right. In the middle was a figure in white with two missionaries. The missionaries were wearing name tags that read, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. They began walking toward me, and I knew that I was not to worry, that I had made the right decision.
I woke up crying, but I felt great peace and joy. I tried to tell my husband about the dream, but he didn’t want to hear anything about it. I was more convinced than ever that I had found the true Church.
I also knew the Lord would not forsake me. So when Sunday came, I gathered my courage and went to church with the children. When we returned home, we found the house locked and all our belongings outside. I was worried for the children’s sake, but I also felt we were being protected. I checked all the windows and found one that wasn’t locked. My son Luciano crawled in and opened the front door, and we took our belongings back in. From that day on, my husband and I had many arguments about the Church. In spite of this difficulty, my children and I continued to be fully active.
Two decades have now passed since we joined the Church, and we have been blessed in many ways. Two more children were born into our family. The year 1996 was especially wonderful. Luciano went on a mission to Italy, and our eldest grandson was baptized. And if that was not enough, Heavenly Father touched my husband’s heart concerning the Church. In December 1999 our family was sealed in the Sydney Australia Temple.
I have learned that Heavenly Father does hear our prayers. I also know that if we have faith in Christ and are determined to grow spiritually, we will, in time, receive all the righteous desires of our hearts, whether in this life or the next.

My mother, Margaret, moved from Switzerland to the United States as a young woman. Not long after that, she had an appointment to receive her patriarchal blessing. But when she went to meet with the patriarch, he wasn’t there. For whatever reason, my mother felt like that was confirmation the Lord didn’t have anything to tell her, and she never rescheduled her appointment.
From time to time over the years, I would suggest to my mother that she reconsider receiving her blessing. She was one of the most faithful women I ever knew. However, she was so humble that she replied that she didn’t merit anything special from the Lord. She didn’t need a blessing, she said, because she was just a simple girl. And she was OK with that.
Finally, when she was 90, we convinced her to schedule an appointment with her patriarch. Ironically, there was a miscommunication with this patriarch as well, and when Mother showed up, the patriarch was out of town. “See?” she said. “I told you the Lord has nothing special to tell me.”
Fortunately, she and the patriarch were able to meet the next week. When the blessing was given, it was filled with gifts, promises, and details about her life that were so personal they could have come only from the Lord’s knowledge of her.
“I guess the Lord did have something to say to me, after all,” she said.

Brother Hatch’s daughter, Keilani, had wanted to go to the temple with her dad for as long as she can remember. She prepared and planned, and when she turned 12 last year, she eagerly set her alarm. Then she realized how tired she was. “We went early in the morning and I was really grumpy when I got there, but the temple workers brought my spirits up,” she remembers. “Then, when it was time for my dad to confirm me on behalf of someone else, I could feel the Spirit so strongly. I realized why I was there, and I just felt happy.”
She says going to the temple helps her stay true to her standards because she wants to be worthy to go back. She remembers a time when those standards were tested by some of her friends, who wanted her to help them cheat on an exam. “I wasn’t allowed to help, but I was alone in the room with my friends, and they were begging me to,” she explains. “It’s really hard to tell your friends no, but it was easier because I had gone to the temple that day. I made a choice to put God first in my life.”

“No, bishop, I don’t think I’m going on a mission.”
These were my words as I declined every invitation from my bishop to consider going on a mission. When my family became members of the Church, there were many things we had to learn and unlearn. Being first-generation Church members, in our family going on a mission was something we neither discussed nor considered. It seemed like a big sacrifice.
Still, I was an active member of the Church. I would attend all my meetings and accept responsibilities as they were extended. I was in my second year of studying accounting when the bishop called me to be the financial clerk.
One Wednesday, I was faced with trying to find an error in the records. I felt helpless as I labored to find the three centavos’ difference between the Church’s and the bank’s records. The report was due the next day and that compounded my problem. The only sensible thing to do was to ask for help.
I approached my bishop and explained my predicament. It surprised me that instead of immediately reviewing the report, he invited me to kneel and pray with him as we explained our problem to the Lord. When we got up from our knees, the bishop asked to see the report. Almost immediately and without using a calculator, he pointed to a column and said, “This is where your problem is.”
I totaled the numbers, and, sure enough, he was right. I felt overwhelmed. It seemed I had just witnessed a miracle. My young and feeble testimony of the Church was strengthened. I gained a stronger conviction that this was the true Church.
While I was still wrapped up in this experience, the bishop asked, “Now are you going on a mission?”
This time, I said yes.
As I left the meetinghouse that night, I had with me all the missionary papers I needed to fill out. Within a few months from when my bishop submitted my missionary recommendation form, I was called to serve a full-time mission in the Philippines Baguio Mission.
It has been many years since that night. After completing a two-year mission, I returned to school and obtained my college degree, four years behind the normal age. If I had to do it over again I would still choose to serve.
I’m thankful for a bishop who obeyed a prompting to ask the right question at the right time. I’m also thankful to Heavenly Father who not only helped me find the three centavos to reconcile my report but who also led me to a wealth of missionary experiences without price.

Just the year before, the family had been living in Colorado, and Ryan had injured his shoulder in an accident at school. When the local doctor checked the shoulder, he found evidence of cancer in Ryan’s arm. Ryan and his mom drove for five and a half hours to the hospital in Denver, taking with them only enough for a stay of one or two days. They were in Denver for three and a half weeks.
During the following year, as Ryan went through chemotherapy, surgery to replace the diseased bone in his left arm with a donor bone, and chemotherapy again, the family, Church members, and community friends drew close together. The family came to understand what things are most important. “We almost lost him a couple of times,” said Mom. “He’s here because of priesthood blessings and prayer.”
“I got comfort from the whole ward,” Ryan remembered. “The Young Women in our ward put on a carnival. Afterwards they had a bake auction, and they raised nine hundred dollars for us.” His Primary teacher sent him messages each week, a special fast was held for him, and ward members tended the other Foster children when Ryan and his mom had to be away. His home teacher gave him a special blessing before every trip to Denver. Friends at school raised six hundred dollars, and the principal brought the money to Denver. So Ryan learned to take serious things seriously, and the next year, after the family had moved to South Carolina and Hugo came, all that Ryan and his family had learned during his experience in Colorado was reinforced. Prayers were offered. Priesthood blessings were given to many. Members in areas not hit by the hurricane sent items from their emergency supplies to those in areas that were hurt. Church distribution centers sent stoves and lanterns and food. And teams of members, from Scouts to grandmas, came to help with the cleanup. The goodness and unselfishness of the community at large was also seen.

We had a wonderful experience as part of our humanitarian projects.
Brother Eric Graffe, who assists us with our projects, told us about a drinking water problem on the island of Tahaa. We quickly set up a video conference with Madame Patricia Amaru, mayor of Tahaa.
To our astonishment, she began with a prayer. We then asked her what their priority needs are. With tears in her eyes, she confided: “You must be the answer to my prayers, because just yesterday we had an urgent problem. And I’m powerless to solve it.”
She went on to explain that the drinking water distribution network is outdated, making it difficult to supply water to a large part of the island.
So we headed off to Tahaa to see what was needed. As water is one of the priorities of humanitarian projects, we decided to put together a dossier that we would submit to the branch president. If successful, this substantial project will bless the lives of over 2,000 people.
Once we had finished visiting the facilities, Madame Amaru regretted leaving us, as she had to attend a meeting “with a young man from your church who is going on a mission”.
It was in fact a vigil during which the future missionary was to open his call letter. We asked her if it’s a member of her family. “No!” she replied. “But I go wherever I’m invited.”
“Then we’ll be delighted to accompany you!”
When we arrived, we found a branch filled with love for this young future missionary who had lost his mother a year earlier. What’s more, he’s the first missionary from this branch . . . in 40 years!
The branch president asked to the mayor and her husband to address a word. They both gave “parent” advice, encouraging him to be obedient and respectful, to remain humble, and especially not to stay there (Salt Lake City Mission) after the mission.
Before we left, we learned that this couple, who are very close to the people of their community, had recently attended the dedication of the meetinghouse. What’s more, during the seven-month construction period, they welcomed the entire branch into their home (not the municipality’s premises, but their own) for Sunday meetings!
It was with hearts overflowing with love and gratitude for such generous and humble people that we set sail again to leave them.
Unquestionably, we declare that our Heavenly Father watches over His children tenderly, that He sent us to Tahaa to serve them, and that the Church is the means by which this might be done.

Covenant keepers strive to be obedient “at all times … and in all places”18 because of their love of God and His promised blessings. One evening, while walking with my husband, we passed by an outdoor wedding reception in progress. We didn’t know these people, yet there was an immediate impression of virtue. Their choices of music and dress were lovely. The radiant bride’s gown was unquestionably modest, as were her bridal attendants’ dresses. This family chose not to mix the ways of the world with the sanctity of that day.

Now, may I say a word to the marvelous youth of our Church. Thank you for your righteous examples to your friends, teachers, leaders, and families. I recognize that many of you are the only member of the Church in your family. You may even attend church alone. I commend you for your commitment and righteous example. Be patient and continue to live righteously. There are many who can help you. President Thomas S. Monson said, “Even an exemplary family … can use all the supportive help they can get from good men [and women] who genuinely care.”19
Look around in your ward and stake for leaders and friends who are examples of the believers and learn from them.
When I was a young woman, I identified examples of the believers. In addition to my parents, one was my aunt Carma Cutler. I vividly remember her speaking at a stake standards night when I was 16. She taught of the importance of being chaste and worthy of a temple marriage. I was deeply touched by her testimony. I had observed her virtuous life since I was a very young girl, and I knew it was consistent with her teachings. I wanted to follow her example.
Young men and young women, you can start today by being an example of the believers in faith and in purity. Strengthen your faith and testimony daily through scripture study and prayer. Keep your baptismal covenant, which will keep you pure and worthy of the guidance of the Holy Ghost. You can start today to be that example for others to follow.
And you never know—you might be the example my little Ruby will need someday. For now, Ruby has a wonderful start on the path to eternal life. Her parents are setting patterns of righteousness in her home, starting each day with a resolve to be examples of the believers. Hopefully, using her agency, Ruby will choose to follow.
I am grateful for the plan of happiness, and I testify it is the only way that Ruby—and each of us—can be pure again and live forever in the presence of our Father in Heaven. May we each start today. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Spring came late that year, and by May it was still cool and rainy. One night Brother Hanson had an artery burst in his chest. He died before any of us had the chance to even see him.
Our whole troop attended the funeral. We sat together on the bench in our Scout uniforms. Troops from the community were there, too—in fact, one whole side of the chapel was a sea of Scouts.
Afterward, my family took me out to the gravesite. My mom kept looking at me out of the corner of her eye like she was worried. I stood silently and stared at the coffin lying above that deep, empty hole.
“Would you like to stay a little longer, Philip?” she asked before she left for the car.
I nodded. I stood until I was the last person left. The rain dripped into my eyes and dribbled down the back of my collar, but I hardly noticed. It seemed to me that the earth was grieving for what it had lost, for what we had all lost.
I kicked at the dark sodden ground with my toe. It was good dirt, and very solid. I knew that that would have pleased him. I whispered my last and only good-bye, then turned for the car and home.

The institute also spreads its influence through a graduate scholarship program. Hector Solorio was one of Mexico’s top agronomy graduates in 1983. After receiving his bachelor’s degree, he gave up a graduate school scholarship to serve a mission. Since completing his mission, he is attending graduate school at BYU under a Benson Institute and Agricultural Economics scholarship. “These young people will return to their countries to become leaders in government and leaders in agriculture,” predicts Brother Brimhall. “We would like to sponsor hundreds more such students.”

The gift of time. When I read about the challenge, I immediately made the excuse that I was too busy to even attempt it. When I later began reading, I constantly reminded myself that if I didn’t finish, I could always say I was just too busy. But something amazing happened. On the days I read, time seemed to stand still and allow me the chance to get everything accomplished. This blessing was the remedy to my busy life. I was able to spend more time with my family and on my Church calling, while still being able to accomplish all I needed to in my job. I realized that Heavenly Father will provide what is necessary if I put Him first. Julie Major, Nibley, Utah, USA

When President Nelson was asked to perform heart surgery on Elder Spencer W. Kimball, who was then a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, he had to exercise faith. The surgery was very risky; Elder Kimball’s heart was weak, and he was old. But President Nelson placed his trust in God and received a blessing from the First Presidency that promised him “that all would go well, and that [he] need not fear for [his] own inadequacies, for [he] had been raised up by the Lord to perform this operation.” The surgery went flawlessly, and President Nelson received a special witness that the person he had just operated on would become the prophet one day—which, about a year later, he did.4
President Nelson performed heart surgery on Elder Spencer W. Kimball.

When it became apparent that my father’s cancer was terminal, my mother said in discouragement, “I guess we’re not going to get our miracle.” In that moment, I felt that our family would receive miracles, even if the preservation of my father’s life was not among them.
One miracle came one morning when my friend Beth asked me what my plans were for the day. I told her I had planned to spend the afternoon with my father at the hospital, but my arrangement for child care fell through. Beth generously offered to watch my children so I could spend time with my father. She also offered to take supper to my family. I was very grateful.
When I arrived at the hospital, my father did not have the energy to open his eyes or eat any food. But shortly afterward he experienced a dramatic increase in energy. For over three hours he was wide awake, and we talked and even walked around the hospital ward a few times. No other visitors came during this time. I was blessed to have this time with him to myself.
We laughed and we cried together that day. My father shared with me his feelings about leaving this earth life and what mattered most to him—his testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ. That afternoon is one of the most cherished memories of my life. Three days later he passed away.
It was not until a week after his funeral that I realized the last time I spoke with my father was the afternoon that Beth watched my children. With tears streaming down my face, I sent Beth an email thanking her for her service and explaining how much it meant to me.
Beth replied, “I have a testimony that God wants to extend us blessings of consolation and grace—especially when we are going through something difficult. I have been praying for consolation for you and your family during this time.”
I was touched that God prompted Beth to be the blessing she prayed I would receive. I know that God provides us with blessings of consolation during difficult times in our lives.

Indio High School’s water polo team was surprising everybody. The Southern California 3-A championship game was half over, and they were thrashing the El Dorado Hawks, 7–3. Indio’s Rajahs were considered a Cinderella club, strong on teamwork but lacking the polish and size necessary to pull off an upset. Yet somehow they were winning the game!
Calvin Lowell, 17, braced himself at the edge of the pool, ready to sprint to the center. (In water polo each quarter begins when the referee tosses the ball to the middle of the water, and players swim toward it in a scramble for possession.) He knew El Dorado would come out fighting.
Cal looked up at his father, Dr. John Lowell, who was standing near one of the diving boards, ready to shout encouragement. It wasn’t just another case of a proud spectator cheering on his boy. Cal’s father is the Indio coach.
The whistle shrieked. Waves foamed and churned. One blazing shot after another skittered into the net, despite flailing arms and lunging defensive maneuvers. Two of Indio’s top players fouled out. The lead narrowed to 8–7. Each team scored again quickly. Then with two minutes and 36 seconds remaining in the fourth quarter, an El Dorado forward slapped the ball from the goalie’s hand and it floated into the net to knot the score at 9–9.
Coach Lowell bowed his head. Ignoring thousands of screaming fans, he said a silent prayer. He knew the Lord couldn’t promise a victory, but he hoped that each player would perform to the best of his ability. A new strategy came into his head, and he called a time out.
He gathered the players around him and counseled them to avoid the congested area just in front of the goals, concentrating on outside shots. Play resumed. The tactic worked perfectly, but the man who wound up free with the ball was the team’s poorest marksman. “Not him,” Coach Lowell wanted to shout. “Anybody but …”
The ball slammed into the goal’s canvas backing. Indio led again, 10–9. The same play worked twice more with other Indio shooters, while the Hawks tallied only one more point. The seconds timer read zero. The championship game was over, and the Rajahs had won, 12–10!