Gospel Story Finder

His love of drawing has given him a chance to cheer others and has helped him gain some interesting friends as well. When Brad was eleven years old, he was watching a car race on television. He was stunned to see a car crash and burn in the pits. One of the men severely injured was Derrick Walker, the manager of a racing team.
“I drew a race car and sent it to him in the hospital as a get-well card. After that, he sent me a thank-you letter. We’ve been friends ever since,” says Brad. That simple correspondence has blossomed into a special relationship. Since then, Walker and Roger Penske, another racing friend, have flown Brad and a guest to major races each year.

But then cracks began to appear. As the children grew older and left the family nest, the cracks grew wider and deeper. I became unloving and deceitful. I was in deep misery. After awhile, I started to reflect on the days at university in Hawaii, those days when I was in heaven on earth. I so desperately wanted to have that again, but I didn’t know how to get it. (I probably knew but didn’t want to go down that path.)

During one of my trips back to Hawaii to see my mother, I related my early heaven on earth experience to the brother who had introduced me to the gospel many years ago. He simply said, “It was the Holy Ghost.” It shocked me! It had never crossed my mind. His response helped me to put two and two together, but I was stubborn as a mule and would not turn to the Lord. I sought the counsel of man to help me deal with my problems, but soon realised that I was going around in circles. At least, it was a starting point to regaining a sense of self-worth. But it was not enough. I yearned to experience that heaven-on-earth happiness.

It was plain to me what I needed to do, but I still hesitated to do the right thing—to turn my life over to God. I was hesitating because in my mind, returning to Church had some negatives. The Lord would require a commitment that I wasn’t ready to give. So, a few more years were lived in misery.

Finally, I was ready to change, to commit myself to God; I just couldn’t continue as I was. I went to church, talked with my bishop, and took the painful step of repentance. I was afraid of going through this process. I didn’t want to go through it again. It was too painful. It would be too easy to turn away from the Lord—I’d done it once before. Would my commitment stand firm?

But since making this momentous decision, I have learnt to love God and have gained a stronger testimony of the gospel of Christ. My conversion didn’t end there, it was just a starting point, albeit a momentous one. As I’ve attended church, studied the scriptures, and repented continually, I have become a happier person. I have learnt that accepting callings in the Church helps me grow stronger and become more faithful. It helps me develop character, but more importantly my relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, bringing me closer to them. Conversion is an ongoing process, continually trying to live in accordance with the love of God.

“Nothing in this world, not even a T-bone steak, could taste as good as it will feel to wear a missionary name badge. Nothing tastes that good.”
That thought gave Neil Bridenstine constant motivation to stick to a demanding weight-loss program. He had one goal in mind: serving a mission.
Just before his 19th birthday, Neil, then weighing about 400 pounds, learned he’d have to lose more than 120 pounds to drop to the recommended maximum weight for a missionary his height. The weight requirement from the Missionary Department helps ensure that young men and women will be able to live the physically challenging lifestyle of a missionary.
At first Neil felt the weight requirement would be impossible for him to meet. After all, his previous attempts to lose weight had been unsuccessful.
“I was a little discouraged when they said I needed to lose 120 pounds. I was feeling pretty down, and I thought, ‘Well, I’m not going on a mission then.’”
After a month of feeling discouraged, Neil came to an important realization. His current weight was unhealthy, and he did need to make a drastic change.
“Being 400 pounds, I was at the end of the rope. I needed to lose the weight anyway.”
To lose weight, Neil enrolled for six months at a full-time weight-loss center in St. George, Utah. Once he got there, he began to realize that his goal of a mission might not be impossible after all. “I went there with the wrong frame of mind, that I was going just to lose some weight, but then I turned around and said: ‘I’m going to do this so I can go on a mission.’”
Because Neil needed to lose so much weight in a short period of time, he needed to be monitored and advised by professionals during the entire process. Neil, along with his parents and doctor, decided that a health center was the safest option. There he was supervised and learned the basics of healthy living so that he could maintain his weight when he returned home and while on his mission.
The center’s weight loss regimen put Neil on a 1,200-calorie-per-day diet. His meals were carefully balanced to make sure he got all the nutrients he needed. “My diet was straight out of the Word of Wisdom—whole foods, whole grains, fresh vegetables, fruit, and meat, but very sparingly.”
On weekdays, Neil’s day began at 6:30 a.m. with a three-hour hike. “We would hike between four and six miles, depending on our hiking ability. My first hike I went about two miles in three hours. That was as far as I could go.”
But during his stay Neil built up his physical endurance. He spent part of each day in the gym doing strength training, aerobics, stretching, and cardiovascular exercises. In the evening, he attended lectures on how to maintain a healthy diet and lifestyle. Over the course of six months, Neil hiked a total of 600 miles and lost an average of five pounds a week.
As Neil’s body slowly began to change, he underwent a rapid change of heart. “Being there tested my faith because if I didn’t go to church on Sunday, my parents weren’t there to baby me, and my roommates didn’t care. I very quickly felt tested to see if I was there for the right reasons. It really made me understand that I did want to go on a mission and that I would deeply regret it if I didn’t.”
Several counselors at the health center who are members of the Church befriended Neil. He attended a young single adult ward with them, and through their example, his testimony grew. He also used the free time between workouts and lectures to study the gospel. He read Preach My Gospel, other Church books, and the Book of Mormon, with the goal of sharing his testimony with others.
“That’s what I was really trying to do—to really know the Book of Mormon, more than just reading the words to say I read it.”
Neil’s gospel study, coupled with his intense weight-loss program, paid off. “I was losing weight physically, but I was gaining so much spiritually—spiritual knowledge through the Book of Mormon and Preach My Gospel.”
The spiritual strength he was gaining carried him through difficult periods in his training. “Some nights there were times when I would cry myself to sleep because I dreaded waking up and going on a six-mile hike, or I dreaded having to eat another piece of tofu. But I said my prayers every night. Some mornings I would go on a hike, and it would feel like someone was pushing me. I was amazed that I was able to do what I did.”
Not only was Neil preparing physically and spiritually for his mission; he was also getting a lot of practice in missionary work. Most of the guests at the health center were not members of the Church, so Neil found opportunities to introduce them to the gospel and share his testimony.
“I gave out 12 copies of the Book of Mormon, told the Joseph Smith story a handful of times, and bore my testimony literally hundreds of times. When I was hiking I would try to pick a guest for that week and bear my testimony about the Church. It was the best missionary preparation ever because I got to do real missionary work.”
Now Neil has the opportunity to put all that practice to the test as a missionary in the Armenia Yerevan Mission. Almost six months to the day after Neil began his weight-loss program, he weighed in on the doctor’s scales at 280 pounds.
“It was a lot of work, and it was difficult, but it paid off. To get the doctor to sign off, to get the missionary papers in, and to get my mission call—the whole thing, every minute of misery I thought I was in, was well worth it.”
Neil says he is grateful for the weight requirement because of everything the experience taught him. But he gives the credit to Heavenly Father for helping him accomplish his goal.
“I can honestly say that I’ve been very blessed, spiritually and physically, to be able to do what I’ve done. The physical results are out of this world. Those came from heavenly help, and I can take very little credit for that. I know that there’s a reason I was supposed to go on a mission.”
Elder Bridenstine is now discovering what that reason is. And his weight loss not only got him there, it also taught him an important lesson he now uses as a missionary.
“Anything is possible with the Lord on your side. If you’re doing what you’re asked and living righteously, the Lord will bless you.”
Whether those blessings come in pounds lost or in souls found.

I recently met a young woman in the Philippines whose family became less active in the Church when she was only 7 years old, leaving her alone to walk a dangerous road to church week after week. She told how at age 14 she decided that she would stay true to her covenants so she would be worthy to raise her future family in a home “blessed by the strength of priesthood pow’r.”12 The best way to strengthen a home, current or future, is to keep covenants, promises we’ve made to each other and to God.

On Saturdays and holidays, Junior loves traveling with them to nature reserves and other South African wonderlands, swimming with them in the backyard pool, singing with them, and working with them. He loves sharing family home evenings, family prayer, and family scripture study with them. He loves welcoming the home teachers to teach them. He especially loves sitting with them in sacrament meeting—and that’s where a problem arises. As a member of the stake presidency, Brother Mkhabele often visits other wards. In his own ward, he’s invited to sit on the stand. From Junior’s point of view, this leaves a big, dad-shaped hole right in the middle of the family, and it makes him sad. Junior understands that his dad is doing the Lord’s work, but it still hurts. For Junior, it’s a real sacrifice, and he makes it with real faith.
Faith comes naturally to Junior. Reading doesn’t. And yet, he reads the scriptures faithfully. The two most memorable people he has met there are Nephi and Jonah. “If God tells Nephi to do something, he does it. He’s not afraid of what people will do or think. And when Jonah got on a ship to run away from God, a big fish swallowed him. From that I learned not to be selfish or run away.” Following her big brother’s example, Thembisile loves the scriptures, too. Though she can’t read yet, she insists on having her own copy for scripture study.
Junior has been blessed with a bright mind, but it isn’t like a lamp that shines steadily in one place. It’s more like lightning that flashes brilliantly here and there all across the sky. With such a lively brain, Junior sometimes finds it hard to focus on one thing for long. One thing he does focus on, though, is the gospel.
Junior was recently baptized. “Father baptized me and gave me the gift of the Holy Ghost. I felt fresh and clean.”
Brother Mkhabele was also deeply moved by the event. “It was the most edifying [inspiring] experience of my life. When I confirmed him, the Spirit was so great that I did not lack for words to bless him. I felt that the blessing he received was really inspired. And since then I’ve seen a change in him. He is beginning to concentrate better. He thinks more carefully before doing things. He feels a greater need to help people.”
Not long after his baptism, Junior was visiting another ward’s fast and testimony meeting with his father. He felt impressed to bear his testimony for the first time in public. “I wanted to see if I could bear my testimony in front of everyone. I couldn’t. Then Dad stood up and helped me, and I could.” Junior’s testimony is simple and strong. “I know that God lives. I know that Joseph Smith was a true prophet.”
Junior also has great faith in prayer. “When I pray, Heavenly Father gives me what I ask for unless it would not be right for me. If He doesn’t give me the things I want, it means they wouldn’t be right for me.” Honest as usual, he adds, “I usually pray at night, but sometimes I forget and just go to sleep. In the morning when I remember that I didn’t pray, I feel sad.”
Junior and Thembisile both love going to Primary. When they come home, Junior eagerly tells everyone what he learned. Thembisile loves singing Primary songs. They both love family home evening. Every Monday night Thembisile reminds her parents about family home evening. Ever hopeful, she sometimes reminds them on Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday, as well.
Thembisile and Junior have fun together. They play with blocks, swing on the swing set, and splash in the backyard pool. Sometimes they fight, but they always make up, often by building something together with Thembisile’s beloved blocks.
When Brother and Sister Mkhabele visited Junior’s school for a progress report, his teacher said, “Junior is so ambitious! He tells me that he wants to go on a mission.” Brother Mkhabele laughs. “She didn’t know that Junior belongs to a church in which most young men his age are planning on missions.”
Junior is already preparing for his. He has asked his mother to teach him how to cook and do his laundry and talked with his father about finances. Junior sees only one problem with missionary service. “I want my own room.” Why go on a mission and risk having a roommate? “Because I don’t want to be selfish to people who don’t know about the gospel. It will make them happy, and I want all the world to be happy.”
After school each day, Junior polishes his shoes and does his homework. After the evening meal, he takes all the dishes to the kitchen and sometimes helps to wash them. He does these chores by assignment, but he does many others by choice. His mother reports that he sometimes says, “Mom, you’re tired. You relax, and I’ll do everything for you.” He especially loves working on projects with his dad. He can do many things for himself—cooking breakfast, for example. He sometimes has an assistant, because whenever Thembisile sees anyone working (or playing), she joins in and helps.
When he grows up, Junior wants to be a policeman, a lawyer, and a college instructor, like his father; and a school teacher and dietitian, like his mother; and a good parent and a true Latter-day Saint. He’s on the right path.

Jeffrey just started kindergarten and is making lots of friends. One day, his teacher told me that the day before, one of the students in his class was having a bad day and was very unhappy. The teacher said that Jeffrey stayed by this student’s side during recess and tried his best to be a good friend. He put his arm around her and comforted her the best he could. At lunchtime, he made sure that he sat next to her, and he helped her open her milk carton and other items in her lunch. Jeffrey’s teacher said that she was very proud of Jeffrey for being a good friend to the girl.

A friend of mine named Bret went to a local ski resort with some friends to ride the Alpine Slide, a hillside attraction patterned after a toboggan run. There were two parallel tracks on the slide, and one of Bret’s friends wanted to race. They waited until no one was in front of them, then pushed off down the mountain.
Halfway down the slide they came to a sharp curve with a warning sign, “Caution, Slow.” Bret thought this was his chance to pull ahead, so he approached the curve at full speed.
The toboggan jumped the track. Thrown free, Bret slammed into the hillside, then slid a long way over tough, rocky terrain. He wasn’t dressed for protection, and his entire right side was scraped from his ankle to his wrist.
That evening his dad soaked Bret in the bathtub so he could peel the clothing away from the torn skin. Bret fainted from the pain. He spent the next three days in bed taking medication, wondering if the agony would ever end.
“I learned a lesson I’ll never forget,” Bret now says. “I couldn’t believe how bad it hurt and how long it took to get better. The people who put up those warning signs knew what they were doing.”
Bret had started out doing something that seemed safe and fun. And that’s exactly what it should have been. But then he deliberately ignored the warnings, got going too fast, and before he knew it, the situation took control of him.

Many faithful Latter-day Saints have been warned by the Spirit when they were faced with injury or possible death. Among these was President Wilford Woodruff, who said:
“When I got back to Winter Quarters from the pioneer journey [1847], President [Brigham] 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 [eight kilometers] 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” (The Discourses of Wilford Woodruff, selected by G. Homer Durham [1946], 294–95).

One extremely hot afternoon I was crossing the green agricultural lands of the pampas in Argentina. The sun had scorched the highway until heat waves were visible. Nevertheless, I was confident and comfortable because I had just purchased a brand-new car with a big motor and plenty of power to conquer the elements and allow me to travel briskly in air-conditioned comfort.
Suddenly I noticed that the temperature inside my new car had begun to climb and that the engine showed signs of strain. When the dashboard heat gauge reached the danger point, I pulled the car over to the side of the road in the hope that, with my very limited knowledge of mechanics, I could discover what was wrong. I was disappointed to think that something could disable my new car so soon.
After I had lifted the hood, I discovered, to my amazement, that a myriad of colorful little butterflies had collected on the radiator and stopped the cooling process. I was struck with the realization that the combined effect of a few hundred tiny butterflies mashed on the radiator had the ability to make the immense horsepower of the motor useless. No, it wasn’t something as obvious as an eagle or hawk striking it or an engine malfunction that had stopped the car—it was just a lot of little butterflies!

We had committed ourselves to traveling over the rapids. The current was so powerful that there was no other choice but to take whatever the river had to give. Then suddenly the churning, splashing boiling subsided. Everything seemed to stand still for an instant. The wind calmed, the river smoothed itself, the pace of our heartbeats slowed a bit, and our breathing returned, almost, to normal. What we saw in the next instant frightened us much more than the rapids had—a smooth line of water reaching from one bank to the other, a line that could mean only one thing: waterfall!
There had been no indication of a waterfall on our maps, but it was a little late to worry about that. In this largely unexplored area of Canada’s Northwest Territories, there were often surprises. About all we had time to do was pray and go over.
Luckily, the fall wasn’t too severe. But the huge waves and their back twist at the bottom were more than our canoe could withstand, and we were thrown into a 3.3 degree Centigrade bath of ice water. We both knew that we had less than ten minutes to get to shore or we would freeze. It was a tremendous test of strength, endurance, and determination, but somehow we dragged ourselves and our boat onto the rocks before we collapsed.

The Turay family resettled in Bo, Sierra Leone. Although there was no Church presence there, they were encouraged to stay and help establish a branch. They started a home group with only the five members of the Turay family. Not long after they started talking to people about the Church, missionaries arrived, and the first baptismal service was held in Bo. On that special day, 31 people were baptized in the Sewa River. Mohamed was soon called to preside over the new Bo Sierra Leone District. Under Mohamed’s leadership, one small branch eventually grew into four branches.

When I received my mission call, I immediately identified with the fearful prophet. The Alaska Anchorage Mission? They had to be kidding! The Assyrians I presumed I had to face went by different names: subfreezing temperatures, ice, half a year of darkness, and even bears. But an Assyrian by any other name is still an Assyrian.

Here I was with only a summer wardrobe, a ghastly phobia of walking on ice, and night blindness. And I was called to Alaska! Besides, an Alaskan mission costs far more money than my savings account contained. My mind could not comprehend the logic of it all. A few days later, as my fears multiplied, I stormed into the bishop’s office.

“They made a mistake,” I told my bewildered bishop. “I bet they do mission calls by computer now, and they input the wrong information on me.”

“What are you talking about, Betty?” he inquired, as a smile touched his lips.

“It’s illogical,” I protested. “I can’t afford the world’s most expensive mission. The Missionary Department must have input the wrong information on me.”

“You know better than that. Besides, I’ve already explained to you that the ward will help support you financially.” Ever-patient, Bishop Brotherston attempted to dispel my fears. “I believe the Lord wants you in Alaska, Betty.”

I was not pacified.

“But the Lord knows I cannot tract on all that ice!”

“If you wish, I’ll call Salt Lake to confirm it,” he offered.

“No, it’s okay,” I responded weakly. “Let me think about it.”

Fear clouded reason, and I walked out debating whether or not to accept the prophet’s call. Jonah’s solution to flee appeared to be an increasingly attractive alternative. So often disobedience seems to be the easier course, especially when we do not understand where the proper path will take us.

Trusting God gives you the strength to be obedient to his will. I had forgotten that as I faced the prospect of 18 months in Alaska. Unlike Jonah, I couldn’t escape my Assyrians by running to Tarshish. I’m thankful for that because I think being swallowed by a whale would be worse than an Alaskan winter. Confused and frightened, I chose an alternative prayer. As I pleaded for confirmation of the Lord’s will, Heavenly Father’s answer reminded me of the importance of trust.

That was my answer! I may not understand why I’ve been called to meet my Assyrians in Alaska, but if I trust in the Lord and do his will, he will lead me to the summit where I shall see the sunrise of his love.

I remember being impressed one time with the need to teach obedience. I was on a new job working long hours, and I guess I was somewhat neglectful of my family. My son seemed to crave more time and attention. He was finding all sorts of ways to attract my attention. One day when I came home, his mother had him prepared to take me downstairs to see what mischief he had recently created. As we descended the stairs, he sheepishly opened the door to our food storage room. There I found he had been using his dart set to practice his marksmanship on our food storage. He caught my attention all right, and made me realize he was looking for the metes and bounds we expected of him in our family government. When they were outlined, and when I gave him the proper attention, then he was very obedient. How important it is that we teach obedience early in the lives of our children, especially to the commandments of the Lord!

“I’m the oldest child in our family. I have a sister who is two years younger and a brother who is eight years younger than I am. Mother was on the General Board of the YWMIA for thirty-four years. They met in board meeting every Wednesday, and Mother would leave dinner for us. She always took good care of us, even though she couldn’t be with us. When she traveled, she sent us postcards. We always knew that she loved us, and we always knew that we, too, could serve in the Church and still be good parents because she had done it.
“Dad was my hero when I was growing up and my best friend when I became an adult. He was the ward clerk and the deacons quorum adviser. He taught us that we don’t need to receive credit from other people for what we do. To provide examples to us children, Dad would often talk about how businessmen were handling their affairs. He and Mother both taught us to be honest. And they both supported us by attending any athletic contest or event at school that we were in.
“My favorite babysitter was my grandaunt Bertha Irvine, my grandmother’s older sister. She was a personal secretary to Wilford Woodruff, Lorenzo Snow, Joseph F. Smith, Heber J. Grant, and George Albert Smith. Sometimes I went to her office in the Church Administration Building and sat at her feet while she worked. Or I would play outside and climb on the building and around its big pillars. We’ve had twelve prophets, and I’ve known and shaken hands with six of them. I never even dreamed that I would ever have an office in that very building, but I serve today with a number of men who knew Aunt Bertha well: President Kimball, President Benson, and President Hinckley. She worked with Elder Joseph Anderson for years in the office of our wonderful prophets.
“My experiences with Sunday School and Primary teachers were important to me as I was growing up. I remember the little red chairs we used to sit in and how church was always an exciting and pleasant place to go. I looked forward to summer Primary, when we would make things out of wood and out of paper. I loved that. As I think back and remember Sister Condie and Sister Anderson and Sister Barnes and some of the other lovely teachers I had, I can remember them more clearly than I can my school teachers. I won a copy of Huckleberry Finn because I had the best attendance record. I still have that book. I appreciate the teacher who gave it to me.
“I had a great experience when I graduated from Primary. Back in those days we each had a green bandalo. I had lost mine. I looked everywhere, including under my bed and through everything in the closet. Finally my mother said, ‘Why don’t you pray about it. Ask Heavenly Father to help you find it.’ So I went to my room and prayed. Even as I was praying, a voice seemed to say, ‘In the dresser, caught underneath the drawer.’ The dresser was in the hall because there wasn’t enough room in my tiny bedroom. When I pulled out the drawer and reached up inside, there it was, caught on a silver! That was the first direct answer to prayer that I can remember receiving. I was proud that I could wear my bandalo when I stood next to Bishop Rulon Sperry as he nominated me to graduate from Primary and to be ordained to the office of a deacon.
“Many summers my family went to Cedar City and stayed on my uncle’s farm. There was no electricity or water in the house, so we carried buckets of water into the house from outside. I experienced farm life as it really was in those days. Now my assignment is with the people in that very same area. It is special to go there—it’s like going home. Some of the people there remember my uncle and aunt and other families I knew.
“A special message that I give to all the children in the world is this: First, love Jesus. He especially loves children, and if children can learn to love Him, then when they are older, they will continue to love Him and understand Him. I think that little children sometimes understand Jesus better than older people do because children forgive so quickly and love so easily.
“Second, live the commandments. The people I know who are truly happy are those who live the commandments. Whatever Heavenly Father wants us to do—such as paying our tithing and going to church and being nice to our brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers—that’s what we should do.
“Third, obey Church leaders. When I was a Primary boy, my parents would always talk about our wonderful bishop, Bishop Sperry. When I was a deacon, my bishop was Rex C. Reeve, Sr., a man with whom I serve today. I have always loved those men. When I don’t have a Church assignment on Sunday, which isn’t very often, I attend my own ward. My bishop there is Ole Johnson, and I love him today just as I loved Bishop Sperry and Bishop Reeve when I was young. If we love our Church leaders and obey what they tell us to do, then we’ll never make serious mistakes.”

It was an early morning in 2008 when my mother woke me up to go to school. I was really happy that morning, but I didn’t know that it would turn into the worst day of my life or the last time I would be with her. I didn’t finish all my classes that day because a friend of our family picked me up and told me that my mom had killed herself. I was only 12 years old.
I thought, “How can I live without my mother?” She was my best friend.
I cried for months. I didn’t like going to school because the other children treated me differently and felt sorry for me. I had no clue what I was supposed to do; I only knew I had to be strong for everyone else.
One day, five or six months after my mom’s death, I was alone in my room by the window, crying, trying to understand what I was here for. Suddenly I heard a voice in my head: “You are my daughter; I won’t let you suffer.” I knew it was God. But it surprised me because I didn’t believe in Him anymore, especially since I felt that it was God who had taken my mother from me. Even though I didn’t know what He meant, I felt safe.
Three years later I went to Rome, Italy, to visit my uncle. He kept telling me about this church he went to. One Sunday, he took me with him. I will always remember walking toward the church’s doors for the first time and feeling the love of Heavenly Father when I went in. It felt like home.
I started going to church every single Sunday and to every activity during the week. I loved being with the youth of the Church. They made me happier. They thought and believed in the same things that I did. Then, after three months, my summer holiday finished and I had to go back to Albania.
When I returned home, I told my dad about the feelings I’d had and how happy I’d felt during those three months going to Church activities. He didn’t like it. He told me he wouldn’t allow me to continue to go to church. So I would have to be patient for the next three years until I turned 18 years old. Then I could decide for myself and be baptized.
During this time I was blessed with so many people who would tell me about what they learned each Sunday at church. One of those people was Stephanie. She’d been living in Italy when my uncle joined the Church, but she had returned to her home in the United States. My uncle thought it would be good for us to write to each other, so I added her as a friend on Facebook.
Even though we’d never met in person, I will always be grateful to her for helping me build my faith and learn more about the gospel of Jesus Christ. She wrote to me almost every Sunday and told me everything she learned in church and then would answer my questions. She was a great friend to me.
Finally, after years of being patient, I was baptized just two days after my 18th birthday. And soon I will share with my mother the happiness I felt that day, because I will be baptized for her. I know she will be proud of the life I have chosen.
I feel blessed by Heavenly Father because He was with me during my entire journey in so many ways. I just had to wait and be patient because He had a plan for me. He’s the one who gave me strength to go through all the challenges I faced. He was always there, helping me be happier.

Each July nearly a thousand volunteers gather at Hill Cumorah, New York, where the Prophet Joseph Smith received the gold plates. After only a week of rehearsals, they put on the Hill Cumorah Pageant, which tells the story of the Book of Mormon and of the Restoration of the gospel. Tens of thousands of people see the pageant each year. There is nothing else Brittany (11) and Tishna (10) Campbell would rather do for their family’s vacation than be in the pageant. The girls bake and sell chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies and brownies year round to raise money for the trip.
The Campbells didn’t have as far to travel as many volunteers. Their home is in Gowanda, New York, about a two-and-a-half-hour drive away. They arrived on a Friday. The next morning began with breakfast and a devotional. Then casting (choosing people for parts in the pageant) started.
There are ten major scenes in the pageant. Each scene has a director. Each director chose the people for their scene and what part each person would play. Brittany and Tishna’s little brother Montgomery (5) was given the part of Jesus Christ as a young child. Their mother and other brother, Christian (2), were assigned to the scene where Christ visits the Americas. Their father didn’t have an acting part. He’s served as a pageant choreographer (someone who plans out everyone’s movements on stage) for ten years.
The girls’ favorite scene to be in is the “Voyage to Ancient America.” When Tishna and Brittany went to the tryout, there were more children than parts. Three years earlier, Brittany had played a child on Nephi’s ship in the voyage scene. She’d had fun being tossed into the air on a blanket by other actors. She decided that it was someone else’s turn this year and tried out for another scene.
When the tryouts were over and the parts had all been assigned, the directors started blocking the scenes. Brittany and Tishna learned where to stand, what to do during the scene, and how to get on and off the stage. The speaking parts, music, and sound effects for the pageant were all prerecorded, but the actors had to learn to move and react in time with the tape. The first practices were held on the big lawn in front of the stage. Later, rehearsals were held on stage.
Tishna was cast as one of Lemuel’s daughters in the voyage scene. Wondering if and when she’ll get splashed by the water during the scene added excitement. Usually she did get wet. After the scene was over, she had to be especially careful to hang up her costume neatly so that it would dry before the next performance.
“The boat scene is the most fun,” Tishna said, “because you get to run and play during the scene.” The tricky part of her scene was opening the floor hatches so that Nephi’s ship could be raised onto the stage. “It can be hard to do it quickly enough,” she added.
Rehearsing wasn’t always easy. Brittany was cast in the “Burning of the Prophet Abinadi” scene. She played a page in King Noah’s court. It was an important part because she was responsible for handing fans to all of King Noah’s courtiers as they came onstage. But once she herself was onstage, she didn’t have much to do but stand beside King Noah’s throne. Rehearsals lasted up to three hours and sometimes were hot and boring, but she still wouldn’t trade being in the pageant for any other vacation.
Although they weren’t in it, Tishna and Brittany’s favorite part of the pageant was the harvest dance. “That’s when the Book of Mormon people were righteous and they prospered,” Tishna said. “It’s a happy scene—very colorful, and everyone is dancing.”
When Tishna and Brittany weren’t practicing their scenes, they met in small groups they were assigned to. They had leaders who prepared lessons, stories, and activities for them.
“I like working on our journals,” Brittany said. “We write things down, and the leaders give us stickers and stamps we can use to decorate the pages.”
One year each child drew a picture on a quilt block. The group leader sewed the blocks into a quilt. The child who picked up the most garbage from the grounds during the pageant would win the quilt. Brittany won it.
Tishna’s favorite group activity was stamping designs on fabric.
Montgomery liked making a little garden, and one day his group went out and looked at the trees and leaves through magnifying glasses.
Everyone involved with the pageant attended three 35-to-45-minute devotionals each day. Sitting quietly through the devotionals was the hardest part of the pageant for Montgomery and Christian, but Tishna and Brittany enjoyed them. On performance days, the actors didn’t have to arrive at the grounds until noon. The Campbells used this time to sleep a little longer, get pizza or ice cream together, or visit some of the Church historical sites in the area.
With all the work and practices, why do the Campbells keep coming? “I have been to the Hill Comorah Pageant every year since I was three years old,” Brother Campbell said. “It’s a family tradition.”
“At the pageant, people are so nice to you,” Brittany said. “You make a lot of friends here. When we get home, we run to the mailbox each day, looking for letters from our new friends.”
“Everyone plays with my little brothers, and there’s no fighting here,” Tishna added. “It’s exciting because it’s for the Church, and it helps you understand the Book of Mormon. It’s our favorite vacation in the whole world.”

“Wow, did you see that catch?” my seven-year-old son, Weslon, exclaimed in delight. He wished aloud, “I’d sure like to meet some of those guys.”
As family members of a high school varsity cheerleader, we frequently found ourselves at football games. My husband, Rick, and I and Weslon became involved in the games as well as in watching our daughter, Mitzi. Football heroes had blossomed in Weslon’s impressionable mind by halftime of our third home game at Round Valley High School in Eagar, Arizona.
Battling my own shyness, I determined to help this stargazing, bashful boy. “We’ll go talk to some of the guys,” I told him after the game. I then towed my son onto the field into the crowd. We approached one of his heroes and tried to offer congratulations. The young man breezed by, aware only of himself and two chattering girls who had cut in front of us to reach him. The next player mumbled “thanks” without breaking stride as I told him “good game” and tried to tell him he had an admirer.
Reluctantly, we approached the last player, wary of another snub. As I told him what a good job he had done, Ty Workman stopped in his tracks, football helmet in hands, flashed a smile of nice white teeth and said, “Thank you very much!”
Encouraged, I plunged into telling him of Weslon’s admiration. Ty’s black hair and handsome face dripped with sweaty exertion as he listened. He extended his hand to shake Weslon’s and said, “Thanks buddy. What’s your name?”
My son quietly said, “Weslon,” and ducked his sandy blond head to examine Ty’s cleats.
I told Ty, “Weslon likes the way you catch passes.” Ty beamed at him and said, “Thanks a lot. I’m really glad to meet you, Weslon, buddy.”
Mitzi went to school the next day and told Ty, “My little brother thinks you’re pretty neat.” From that point she relayed messages between Ty and Weslon. Soon the two boys became real buddies. After each football game they could be found together with Ty’s arm draped around Weslon, chatting about the plays. We attended every football game, even those out of town.
As we became acquainted with Ty, we found he was popular with everyone—young and old. He didn’t drink, smoke, do drugs, and he had good moral values. He encouraged Weslon to avoid harmful things and often repeated his favorite phrase, “Stay close to the Lord.”
Several weeks into this friendship, Mitzi came home from school with some disturbing news. Her face a mask of disbelief, she said, “This is so sad. Ty has MS—you know, multiple sclerosis. They said he might not live longer than a year.” Weslon’s face fell as we told him what MS was. A heavy silence came over us as we realized the gravity of Ty’s illness.
In the next few months Ty had several attacks requiring hospitalizations. He lost lots of weight but forced himself to shine on the football field. Ty, along with Mitzi, was also a member of Show Choir, a singing and dancing group. He made it to many taxing practices and performances between hospital stays.
Late one evening we received a call from Ty’s dad. “Ty’s pretty sick. I think it would help him if Weslon could visit him at the hospital tomorrow. He’s blind and paralyzed from the waist down.”
After the phone call, Weslon disappeared into his room. He came out a little later, green eyes glittering with tears, and said, “I said a prayer for Ty.”
The next morning we visited the hospital bearing gifts bought with Weslon’s savings. Ty greeted Weslon with a cheery, “Hi buddy! How are ya doing? I can’t see anything but shadows where you are,” he told us.
“We brought you a few things, Ty,” I told him, trying not to let him hear the fear in my voice.
“Thanks a lot,” Ty said, his dark eyes looking our way but not focusing. During our visit my words were cheerful, but my heart felt bruised as I watched the two buddies talking.
We were amazed when the hospital released Ty a few days later. He went home with his eyesight and with the feeling in his legs gradually returning. Soon he was back in school.
Our family spent a lot of time with Ty through the next few months. Laughter and camaraderie warmed our home during Ty’s visits. He would talk with Weslon about lots of things, always reinforcing his slogan, “Stay close to the Lord.”
Soon after Christmas, Ty was flown to Phoenix for hospitalization. While he was there, he went into a coma. Just when we decided we should take Weslon on the long trip to Phoenix because the doctors didn’t expect Ty to live, we got a call. Ty had come out of the coma!
Following his release from the hospital, Ty’s parents took him to a specialist in California. After many tests the doctors ruled out multiple sclerosis. Numerous additional tests found Ty to be suffering from a virus that attacked the nervous system during times of stress or exhaustion. We were jubilantly relieved! He was still a sick young man, but now he knew how to avoid the debilitating attacks, and best of all a fatal forecast had been removed.
In spite of his many absences from school, Ty was well enough to graduate with his classmates in May. During the summer Ty held down a job and practiced for the Arizona state high school all-star game. He was one of four chosen from our region. Weslon was invited to practices, and we made the long trip to Prescott, Arizona, for the all-star game. Ty was down to 122 pounds after his illness. He was the smallest in weight on both teams, but his famous catches helped bring his team to victory.
After the game, he came jogging off the field, sweat streaming but beaming that wide, white smile. Ty got his buddy by the shoulders and they chatted about the game as I took pictures. He told Weslon, “Stay right here. I have to go get something.” A little later he came dashing back. In his hand was his all-star cap. He told Weslon, “I want you to have this. Thank you for coming to my game, buddy.”
Ty has been an inspiration to many. He was awarded the first “Ty Workman Award” at Round Valley High School. This award is presented each year now to a student conquering adversity.
December 1987 came and with it Ty’s call to the North Carolina Charlotte Mission. I took six tissues to Ty’s farewell service. In his talk he mentioned, “I have a little friend here that is really special to me. He is Weslon Whiting.” I should have taken 16 tissues!
Ty has filled an honorable mission. He continued to remember his little buddy, writing letters in the same spirit as he used to talk to Weslon. Instead of thinking of the joy he has brought to a small boy he turns it around. One sentence will ring in my mind for a long time. “Weslon, you’ve been a big help in my life, more than you’ll ever know.” With each letter he sent to his little buddy he enclosed a dime or a quarter for Weslon’s missionary fund.
Three years have passed since Ty was not expected to live. I thank this exceptional young man for giving me faith in a younger generation. And I thank him for providing my young son with a shining example of a true hero.

Walking into my Young Women class, I felt all alone. My family and I had just moved from New Jersey to a small town in Idaho. My family knew no one in Idaho, and all of our relatives lived back east.
Looking for a place to sit down, I saw a chair on the second row by the wall. As I sat down, I noticed everyone had someone to sit by except me. I kept telling myself things would change after I had some time to make friends, but no matter how many times I told myself that, I still felt very alone.
Halfway through the lesson, I noticed a picture of Jesus Christ hanging on the wall next to me. When I saw the picture, I realized I wasn’t alone. It was as if the Savior had been sitting next to me the whole time.
It took some time getting used to living in my new home and finding new friends. At times I did feel alone, but I always remembered that Sunday when I noticed the picture of the Savior and realized I was never alone. Jesus Christ will always be our friend.

Old Nono had been just a teenager when he’d left his parents in Italy and had come to live in Illinois. It had taken many years of hard work before he’d been able to buy a small vegetable farm just outside Chicago. Last fall Old Nono had taken Nicky to the place where, for almost five decades, Old Nono had had a partnership with the land in raising millions of tomatoes and other vegetables. Now that land was covered with streets and lawns and trees and homes.

A similar thought came to Nicky in the cemetery as he watched the casket being lowered into the grave. It wasn’t really Old Nono inside that casket; it was just the body that Old Nono had left behind, on old, worn-out body. And that body was being placed into the earth that had been Old Nono’s partner in life.

As the casket settled into the grave, tears clouded Nicky’s eyes, and a dull ache persisted. He was really going to miss Old Nono. But through the pain, some familiar words came into Nicky’s mind: “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.” When he had read them before, they were only words. Now those words had meaning. “A time to be born, and a time to die …” Other seeds that had been planted in Old Nono’s magic garden came to Nicky’s mind: “For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive.”**

Suddenly it was all clear to him. Everything has a purpose. Even death has a purpose, and it is not really that scary. When he had been helping Old Nono plant seeds in his magic garden, he had also been planting his own magic garden. And the fruit of his magic garden tasted wonderful.

Cerebral palsy has a devastating effect on most of its victims, but not on Steven Roach of Doylestown, Pennsylvania. Thanks to his involvement in martial arts classes, Steven can walk mostly without canes or crutches.
Ward members are now thrilled to see Steven walk unaided back to his seat in the congregation after blessing the sacrament. Steven takes his priesthood seriously. “It’s a very special part of my life,” he says. “I am beginning to understand the priesthood more and more each day as I read my scriptures and study the gospel.”
Steven is also serious about his karate. He’s been able to earn a yellow belt, and is working on his green. Both his sensei (teacher) and his mother have worked hard to help and support him. “I know I may never be able to fly through the air with kicks,” he says. “But I always try to do my best.”