Gospel Story Finder

A few months ago we took our grandchildren on an escorted tour of the Church printing facilities. There, all of us saw the missionary edition of the Book of Mormon coming off the delivery line—printed, bound, and trimmed, ready for reading. I said to a young grandson, “The operator says that you can remove one copy of the Book of Mormon to be your very own. You select the copy, and it will then be yours.”

Removing one finished copy of the book, he clutched it to his breast and said with sincerity, “I love the Book of Mormon. This is my book.”

I really don’t remember other events of that day, but none of us who was there will ever forget the honest expression from the heart of a child.

The presidencies and planning committees met several times during the winter. The young people read histories and studied pioneer journals. They learned how their ancestors had answered a mission call by President John Taylor to come to this wild corner of the world and establish a peace mission among the Indians, how in addition to this challenge they were to provide a civilized buffer in this part of Zion because to that time the San Juan country was controlled by thieves, outlaws, and murderers who used this corner of southern Utah as a place to hide out from the law.
Two hundred and fifty people, including women and children, answered the call. They brought 85 wagons and hundreds of cattle and horses with them on the journey, traveling southeast from the settlement of Escalante to what is now San Juan County. The company was made up of Saints from Cedar City, Parowan, and Paragonah. They traveled across more than 200 miles of unexplored wilderness. The pinnacle of their pioneering effort was in carving a road bed down the side of Glen Canyon to the Colorado River below. They started their descent in a notch or hole in the rim of the 1,800 foot-high canyon wall. This notch then became known as Hole-in-the-Rock. The incredibly steep grade down the upper portion of the road dropped one foot for every two feet forward.
Many of the descendants of the early pioneers still feel under obligation of that original call from President Taylor. In his campfire remarks to the youth, Stan Bronson explained, “We are here to help bring about the fulfillment of the prophecies relative to the restoration of Israel. We have never been released from that first call. I believe the end result of this ‘peace’ mission will be to have the fulness of the gospel operating among the Lamanites here. The ‘peace’ will come here from the ultimate giver of peace and be evident in the hearts and lives of this people.”
“I was excited about going on the Hole-in-the-Rock trip with our stake so I could see for myself the places that have been talked about,” said Cheyenne Johnson. “Walter Joshua and Elizabeth Kinney Stevens, my great-great-grandparents on my father’s side, were newlyweds. That trip was their honeymoon, and I think it must have been more honeymoon than they wanted since it was supposed to last six weeks and it lasted six months.
“Grandpa Stevens drove the first wagon down through the Hole. Also on my mother’s side of the family, great-great-grandparents Benjamin and Sarah Perkins were on that trip. Grandpa Perkins and his brother Hyrum had been miners in Wales and they were responsible for blasting out some of the places where they needed to build roadways down through the Hole. One place known as ‘Uncle Ben’s Dugway,’ was named after Grandpa Perkins. Platte D. Lyman, another great-great-grandfather on my mother’s side, was also on the trip. His wife Adelia stayed in Fillmore to have a baby who was born while the group was at the top of the Hole. He was carried through the Hole-in-the-Rock a few months later. That baby was my great-grandfather, Albert R. Lyman, who later married Mary Ellen Perkins, and they were the first settlers in what is now Blanding. They had 15 children, my grandmother being the 15th. Grandpa always kept a journal and wrote many stories and books. I was anxious to see the country where he had been a cowpuncher and to see his name carved in the rock at Lake Canyon. I felt a special closeness to him there.”
The day had arrived. After much worry, prayer, and planning, these young people from Blanding were going to try to retrace the incredible journey their pioneer ancestors had made 107 years earlier. Brother Glen Shumway, the stake Young Men president, had spent a good deal of his life as a uranium miner and had worked outdoors in this wild country.
“I knew how inhospitable this country could become. The weather, the gnats, the sun, and of course the condition of the trails were all concerns because any one of these factors could wreck the experience for us,” Glen said.
At the stake center, 30 4-wheel drive vehicles were loaded with 135 people and all of their provisions for the three-day outing. Young people from Blanding, Kayenta, Bluff, and Mexican Hat were also represented. It was appropriate that several Native Americans participated because their Paiute, Ute and Navajo ancestors had lived and hunted in this same desert. The caravan traveled the first 75 miles on Highway 95 because at this point the modern road was much the same as the route taken by the early pioneers.
Along this part of the journey they saw Clayhill Pass, where the existing road crosses the old trail. They also were able to see Comb Ridge and Salvation Knoll in the morning light. Because they were traveling from Blanding back to the Hole-in-the-Rock, they were seeing the pioneers’ journey in reverse order. The caravan turned off the paved highway and headed into the desert. Early morning light amplified the color and richness of the red sands and the desert spring wildflowers. The yucca plants were in bloom with many of the pale yellow flowering spikes rising six feet and taller into the air. Purple sage and prickly pear cactus blooms added to the beauty of the desert with its many other flowers. After driving for a few miles they stopped at a tank trailer that seemed to be parked alone in the middle of the desert. Of course Brother and Sister Boyles had towed the trailer here earlier so every vehicle’s fuel tank could be topped off before they got into the more rugged part of the journey.
Even at this point, however, there was some uncertainty from a few of the young people about continuing on.
Peggy Sue Pincock said, “I surely wish I was home doing something else.”
For the rest of the day they traveled. Walking and riding they crawled up slick rock slopes and over sandy dunes and finally inched their way down into Lake Canyon.
They drove through the sandy bottom of Lake Canyon, and then bumped up and down ridge tops for an exhausting final leg of their journey into the camp near Marble Canyon at the base of Grey Mesa.
By this time, even though the group had only been out one day, many felt as Elizabeth Morris Decker felt 100 years earlier when she said, “It’s the roughest country you or anybody else ever seen; it’s nothing in the world but rocks and holes, hills and hollows.”
As the afternoon sun leaned farther to the horizon, tents sprang up around the campground. The clang of dutch ovens could be heard as the aromas of the evening meal spread throughout the campsite. Dutch oven potatoes cooked with onions and bacon, barbecued chicken, corn, fruit punch (seven gallons for each 50 people), and s’mores (a graham cracker, chocolate bar, and marshmallow sandwich dessert) seemed to fill stomachs and rejuvenate the spirits of the camp. Then, like their pioneer ancestors, they held a meeting with musicians and speakers who told about the original journey, and they sang songs of the present and the past.
After a good night’s sleep and a campfire breakfast of scrambled eggs, pancakes, and orange juice, the group felt strong enough to tackle the slick rock slopes of Grey Mesa. Once they got to the top they had relatively smooth going for 15 miles. From the top of the mesa they could look down and see Lake Powell and the Big Bend of the San Juan River. The drivers let themselves and their vehicles slowly down the other side of Grey Mesa while many from the company enjoyed the walk.
As the day wore on they traveled to the top of Cottonwood Canyon, where they were able to look down the canyon and across Lake Powell to the Hole-in-the-Rock.
Though the youth activity took three days instead of six months, there were many parallels in the two journeys. Many of the names were the same, the country was still the same, this modern trip was organized much like the original one. And, like the first trip, this one accomplished the purposes originally intended for it.
“What an eye opener! I couldn’t believe the places those people went over. I love the stories of all the hardships and trials and especially the motivating stories of super faith and hard working pioneers. They were great and very faithful people to do what their leaders asked them to do. I hope I can take this wonderful example and apply these hard working and faithful qualities to my life,” said Annette Carroll.
John Hunt, one of the leader specialists, added “I am 47 years old and have lived in Blanding all of my life. This is my first time to go on this trail. I learned that pictures and stories are not adequate. I have flown over this trail many times, but nothing equals being here. I took my jeep places I never would have believed it would have gone.”
Brother Shumway seemed to sum up most of the feelings of the group when he said, “We all came home with a greater appreciation for the original Hole-in-the-Rock pioneers, who showed their love for the gospel by leaving comfortable homes, disrupting their lives to heed the call of the prophet to extend the boundaries of Zion into this beautiful but inhospitable land of San Juan. We found greater love and appreciation for one another as we camped, ate, jeeped, played, and worshiped in that pleasant setting. We were touched by the Spirit of the Lord in our fireside programs as we listened to the special speakers and music. Most of all, we felt the hand of our Maker, who was with us on this journey and who will be with us on all of our journeys through this life and the eternities.”
Charles Redd later wrote about the climb up Comb Ridge: “Aside from the Hole-in-the-Rock, itself, this was the steepest crossing on the journey. Here again seven span of horses were used, so that when some of the horses were on their knees, fighting to get up to find a foothold, the still-erect horses could plunge upward against the sharp grade. On the worst slopes the men were forced to beat their jaded animals into giving all they had. After several pulls, rests, and pulls, many of the horses took to spasms and near-convulsions, so exhausted were they.”
“By the time most of the outfits were across, the worst stretches could easily be identified by the dried blood and matted hair from the forelegs of the struggling teams. My father [L. H. Redd, Jr.] was a strong man, and reluctant to display emotion; but whenever in later years the full pathos of San Juan Hill was recalled either by himself or by someone else, the memory of such bitter struggles was too much for him and he wept” (in David E. Miller, Hole-in-the-Rock, Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 1966, pp. 138–139).
Salvation Knoll, another early landmark, was so named by George B. Hobbs when he and three others were on an advance scouting party. They were lost Christmas day in 1879. They were out of provisions and they were traveling in snow and extreme cold. Thinking they might die, Brother Hobbs decided to climb a small knoll which he named Salvation Knoll.
His journal records, “This was surely Salvation Knoll, for on looking to the northeast across a spur of the Elk Mountain I discovered the Blue Mountains, about 10 miles away” (in Hole-in-the-Rock, p. 88).
When the main body of the pioneers got passed Comb Ridge and went on a few more miles they were too tired to travel any farther.
“As they rested in exhaustion from the last intensive strain, for the first time they began to see themselves for what they were: weary, worn out, galled, both teams and men. For so long they had walked and slept and eaten and lived on sloping uneven ground that the thought of level bottom-land was extremely sweet. Yet one woman spoke for the whole group when, recalling this last phase of the journey she said later, ‘I was so tired and sore that I had no desire to be any place except where I was.’ Someone pointed out to her that Montezuma wasn’t even twenty miles away, and that some of the head wagons were already over Butler Wash and onto dirt road—even then it made no difference. When they began to sing “The Latter-day Work Roll On,’ she had to sing to keep from crying” (Charles Redd, in Hole-in-the-Rock, p. 140).

An older granddaughter stated, “I have been considering marriage in the near future and have been making some tentative preparations. When Grandfather heard of my plans, he and Grandmother came down to see me, gave me some possible temple dates, offered other suggestions, and in an hour the entire thing was coming together. He said that evening, ‘You need a plan; if it doesn’t happen, you’re out nothing. You can cancel, but you can’t just materialize a wedding. Things just won’t fall into place if you don’t plan ahead.’”

Sister Kasimbe shares her experience: “I grew in the gospel due to studying the scriptures. I remember before my mission I was given a calling to serve as Relief Society secretary. I love getting a calling but later realized that it was not an easy task for a 19-year-old who had just joined the Church. Surrounded by my own afflictions, I was supposed to minister—this was not easy for me. I remember being assigned to a Relief Society sister who had just lost her sister due to brain cancer. She was grieving and in pain. As I was with her, I felt her sorrow immediately. In my mind I felt the love of God towards her as I shared with her from the scriptures about life after death and that death is temporary. We were able to share from the scriptures and find joy.”

Emily is a young wife who was in search of the truth. Her husband, Michael, was less interested in religion. When Emily became ill and spent some time in the hospital, Cali, a Relief Society sister who is also her neighbor, took the family meals, watched their baby, cleaned the house, and arranged for Emily to receive a priesthood blessing. These acts of charity softened Michael’s heart. He decided to attend Church meetings and to meet with the missionaries. Emily and Michael were recently baptized.

When I was in high school, I was one of three LDS students in a student body of five hundred. One year I sent invitations out for my 16th birthday. On the bottom they read, “No alcohol, cigarettes, or drugs.” When I gave those invitations out, my parents and I were afraid that no one would show up at the party. However, 35 out of 50 did show up.

About a month later, I received an invitation to a friend’s party. On the bottom it read “No alcohol, cigarettes, or drugs.” More such invitations followed in the next two years.

What you have to do is decide now what you will do and then stick to it. True friends will accept you for who you are. They may continue to smoke or drink, but they won’t pressure you once you’ve politely said, “I don’t smoke” (or drink, or whatever). If they do continue to pressure, find a new set of friends who accept you for you and what you stand for.

Elder Neil L. Andersen and his wife, Kathy, visited the Democratic Republic of the Congo in Africa. They had a Church meeting outside under tents. Around the tents was a big fence. Elder Andersen could see children watching them from the other side of the fence. Kathy asked him, “Neil, do you think you might want to invite the children to come in?” Elder Andersen walked up to the man at the microphone. He asked the man to invite the children to come in and join them.
The children came running! They were all smiling and excited to be a part of the meeting.

A few years ago Morgan High School played Millard High for the state football championship. From his wheelchair, to which Morgan coach Jan Smith was confined, he said to his team: “This is the most important game of your lives. You lose, and you will regret it forever. You win, and you will remember it forever. Make every play as though it were all-important.”
Behind the door, his wife, whom he tenderly referred to as his chief assistant, overheard her husband say, “I love you guys. I don’t care about the ball game. I love you and want the game victory for you.” Underdog Morgan High won the football game and the state championship.

Melissa got her first credit card when she went away to college. Her parents, who helped her apply for the card, told her it was for emergency use only. At first, Melissa followed that advice closely, usually consulting her parents before she made any purchases on the card.
“At first, I didn’t use my card all that much,” she says. “The problem was, my parents didn’t really explain how credit worked. In fact, I saw my mom use her credit card all the time to buy things at the store. She never thought to tell me that she only bought things she knew she could pay for in full every month when the bill came.”
Married while she was still in college, Melissa and her husband soon longed for the comfortable lifestyle they had enjoyed at home with their parents.
“We felt that we deserved most of the things we purchased with our credit card. We never stopped to consider if we could afford it.”
Soon Melissa and her husband were charging necessities like groceries and gas for the car on credit cards because all their available cash was used up paying the minimum balance on several credit cards. Finally things were so bad that Melissa sought help from her parents.
“It was really embarrassing to have to go to my dad and tell him what we had done. We were really lucky that my dad was in a position to help us.”
But even with help and new knowledge about how credit works, it hasn’t been an easy road, says Melissa. In addition to having to check in with her dad for several months after he bailed them out, paying the loan back to her father has meant several years of a very restrictive budget. But Melissa says the sacrifice has been worth it.
“I felt like I was in prison before. Now, even though I don’t have as much money to spend, I feel a real sense of freedom. Getting out of debt is worth whatever it takes.”

As a young stake president, I met many of the General Authorities when they came to speak at our stake conference. What a wonderful experience! President Hugh B. Brown came to one of our stake conferences just a week before he was called and sustained as a member of the Council of the Twelve. We enjoyed his warm spirit and his good humor. As I helped him put his coat on and walked out to his car with him, I said, “Elder Brown, do you have any personal advice for me?”
His answer was, “Yes. Follow the Brethren.” He did not choose to elaborate or explain, but he left that powerful message: Have the simple faith to follow the Brethren.

Because his father believed that boys should learn to work, he bought a farm. The family lived there in the summer and went there on Saturdays in the spring and fall. They pruned trees in winter and early spring, then picked the fruit in late summer and early fall. Young Gordon learned to work hard. He also learned the beauty of nature that God has given us “and the bad things that happen when nature is abused.”†

To illustrate, I think I would like to share with you one of my failures. I suppose some people think I have never experienced failure. I have. Let me tell you of one such instance.
Sixty-three years ago, while serving as a missionary in the British Isles, my companion and I taught, and it was my pleasure to baptize, a young man. He was well educated. He was refined. He was studious. I was so proud of this gifted young man who had come into the Church. I felt he had all of the qualifications someday to become a leader among our people.
He was in the course of making the big adjustment from convert to member. For a short period before I was released, mine was the opportunity to be his friend. Then I was released to return home. He was given a small responsibility in the branch in London. He knew nothing of what was expected of him. He made a mistake. The head of the organization where he served was a man I can best describe as being short on love and strong on criticism. In a rather unmerciful way, he went after my friend who had made the simple mistake.
The young man left our rented hall that night smarting and hurt by his superior officer. He said to himself, “If that is the kind of people they are, then I am not going back.”
He drifted into inactivity. The years passed. The war came on, and he served in the British forces. His first wife died. After the war he married a woman whose father was a Protestant minister. That did not help his belief.
When I was in England, I tried desperately to find him. His file contained no record of a current address. I came home and finally, after a long search, was able to track him down.
I wrote to him. He responded but with no mention of the gospel.
When next I was in London, I again searched for him. The day I was to leave, I found him. I called him, and we met in the underground station. He threw his arms around me as I did around him. I had very little time before I had to catch my plane, but we talked briefly and with what I think was a true regard for one another. He gave me another embrace before I left. I determined that I would never lose track of him again. Through the years I wrote to him, letters that I hoped would give encouragement and incentive to return to the Church. He wrote in reply without mentioning the Church.
The years passed. I grew older as did he. He retired from his work and moved to Switzerland. On one occasion when I was in Switzerland, I went out of my way to find the village where he lived. We spent the better part of a day together—he, his wife, my wife, and myself. We had a wonderful time, but it was evident that the fire of faith had long since died. I tried every way I knew, but I could not find a way to rekindle it. I continued my correspondence. I sent him books, magazines, recordings of the Tabernacle Choir, and other things, for which he expressed appreciation.
He died a few months ago. His wife wrote me to inform me of this. She said, “You were the best friend he ever had.”
Tears coursed my cheeks when I read that letter. I knew I had failed. Perhaps if I had been there to pick him up when he was first knocked down, he might have made a different thing of his life. I think I could have helped him then. I think I could have dressed the wound from which he suffered. I have only one comfort: I tried. I have only one sorrow: I failed.

May I share with you one of my holy places? Once, I was feeling overwhelmed, fearful, and completely alone. Silently, I prayed: “Heavenly Father, I do not know how to do this. Please, please, help me!” Soon, an individual unexpectedly came forward, placed a hand on my shoulder, and offered sincere, encouraging words. In that moment, I felt peace. I felt acknowledged. Everything had changed. The words of President Spencer W. Kimball came to mind: “God does notice us, and he watches over us. But it is usually through another person that he meets our needs.” For me, that moment, that place, had become holy.

For several months our family had been planning a vacation to a theme park. We had been doing chores and saving our allowance to have spending money. We were counting the days.
At the beginning of May, we held a family council where Mom reviewed our family budget and explained that money was tight. Dad presented a travel budget, and we realized that we couldn’t go on the trip without going into debt. We had a hard decision to make. We could go to the park and add to our debt, or wait until we could pay it off and save enough for next year. We talked about the prophet’s counsel to get out of debt and stay out of debt. Although it was a very difficult decision and some of us even cried, we chose to wait till next year.
We still wish we could go this year, but we are happy that we are following the prophet and know that we will be blessed for doing it.

In October 2011, while serving a full-time mission in South Africa, I received a phone call from Sister Catherine Wood, our mission president’s wife. All merry and bright, she told me that President Thomas S. Monson had just announced the construction of a temple in my home town, Kinshasa. I remember shouting—with joy with tears flowing down my cheeks—in gratitude to the Most High for the blessing of having a temple in my country.

For me, the key to choosing to serve a mission was gaining a testimony of the Book of Mormon. When I was 15, living near St. Louis, Missouri, my seminary teacher challenged us to read the Book of Mormon not just once, but twice during the school year. As a reward, she offered a steak dinner. Eating a steak dinner with the girls I knew would take the challenge sounded very appealing to me.
For the first time in my life I began a committed attempt to read the entire Book of Mormon. I had tried many times before, but I always got stuck in the Isaiah chapters. I pushed past those, and within a few months I had read all the way through for the first time. When I finished, I thought, “This is a really good book! But is it correct?”
I started reading again with the intent of determining whether it was factual or fabricated. I checked for consistency in dates and calculated the ages of the various prophets to see if they were realistic. I found evidence supporting the reliability of the Book of Mormon as an ancient text. When I finished reading the second time, I was convinced that it was correct.
At this point I had reached the original goal to read the Book of Mormon twice. I was surprised to realize that I was no longer interested in the steak dinner—this was becoming too important, too sacred, for such a reward. I was now convinced the Book of Mormon was good and correct, but was it true? To answer that question, I read it for a third time.
Before I read, I said a short prayer, asking, “Father, is what I’m about to read true? If so, please tell me through Thy Spirit.” Then, when I was finished reading for the day, I’d close the book and ask, “Father, is what I have just read true?” I read it through this way the third time, and not long after that, the Spirit bore witness of its truthfulness in an unmistakable manner. I had found out for myself that the promise found in Moroni 10:3–5 really works!

My heart stopped beating as I peered over the edge of the thirty-meter cliff. I couldn’t believe I’d put myself in this position. My friends in the boat below were laughing at my hesitation to jump, which made me even more determined to do it.
We had decided to celebrate our high school graduation by camping at a lake resort. The surroundings were beautiful, and the temperature climbed into the 90s each day. It felt great to be healthy, suntanned, and eighteen years old.
As we climbed to the top of that cliff, we laughed at our friends down below in the boat. They were always talking about the adventurous things they were going to do, but never did them. They were the ones who always did the “safe” things at school. Now, we laughed, they were missing a great opportunity to jump off a cliff into the beautiful, clear waters of the lake.
The first to run and jump was Bryce. I watched him twist and turn his body as he fell through the air, and I heard the distant splash when he hit the water. “You’ve got to try it!” he yelled up at me as he pulled himself into the boat. It was a direct challenge.
I looked around and found my other three friends smiling at me. I suddenly had a sick feeling at the bottom of my stomach as I realized that jumping off a thirty-meter cliff wasn’t such a good idea. But how could I not jump now? My friends were expecting me to jump. If I didn’t, they would never let me forget that I had backed out and not accepted Bryce’s challenge.
Just when I was about to jump, I was overtaken by Kelly, who gave an excited yell as he leaped into the air. We never saw him hit the water, but heard him crying as the others pulled him into the boat. His knees had slammed together upon impact, and his legs would be in a cast for the rest of the summer, following surgery on both knees.
The three of us who remained were now really scared of making the jump, but we wouldn’t admit it. I remember thinking about my acceptance to Brigham Young University, and about my plans to serve a mission after my first year of college. I began to think of the consequences of making the jump. What if I became seriously injured? Was impressing my friends really that important?
“Fifty percent chance you make it and fifty percent chance you get hurt,” Bryce impatiently yelled at me from below. Not a very encouraging thought.
I slowly walked back from the edge of the cliff, then raced toward it, lifting my body off the ground as I soared into the air. I looked straight down as I quickly dropped, my arms waving to maintain my balance.
My entry into the water was like an explosion, and I heard something in my back crack. As I sank into the water, I realized that I couldn’t move my body. I felt as though my lungs would explode as I slowly floated to the surface, only to hear my friends laughing at the expression on my face.
Ted was the first to realize I was in pain, and he told the others to stop laughing as I was pulled into the boat. I mentioned something about the pain in my back as they laid me down next to Kelly with his injured knees. I was soon moaning in pain right along with him.
Then Kelly and I watched in bewilderment as our remaining two friends at the top of the cliff prepared for their own jumps. Despite unfavorable odds, each of them made the leap—successfully.
Since the nearest doctors were more than 200 kilometers away, I decided to stay with my friends and finish the camping trip. I lay in a tent for two days, shocked at my stupidity. I was only eighteen, yet I had risked my life for the sake of having “fun” and impressing my friends.
The doctor who examined my back said I had a compression-fracture which would cause me problems with arthritis throughout my life, but I still considered myself the luckiest person in the world.
Looking back on my life, I realized that I had wasted most of my teenage years doing stupid, irresponsible things—like jumping off a thirty-meter cliff. I hadn’t stopped to consider what effect my actions were having on other people, or on myself. I had been a thrill seeker who never had to face the consequences until that fateful day when I’d almost given my life just to impress my friends. It took a disastrous leap into the lake to shake me from my fantasy world into a world of reality and responsibility.

There are great blessings in having modern-day prophets. President Hugh B. Brown (1883–1975), a former counselor in the First Presidency, told of a discussion he had with a member of the British House of Commons who had previously been a judge. This man said he thought God had not spoken to people on earth since the first century, and President Brown responded by explaining to him about Joseph Smith and the Restoration.
“The judge sat and listened intently,” President Brown recalled. “He asked some very pointed and searching questions, and at the end of the interview he said, ‘Mr. Brown, I wonder if your people appreciate the import of your message. Do you? … If what you have told me is true, it is the greatest message that has come to earth since the angels announced the birth of Christ.’”

As any sailor knows, however, sailing isn’t always that smooth. Like life, there are dangers to watch for. Sharks, for instance. Richard can tell you that just the sight of those big jaws will make you run for the other side of the boat. Storms are more common, though, and the crew of Polaris has weathered a few.
“There’s always some kind of storm coming,” says Jared Case, 16.
Their biggest one hit last summer as they were anchored overnight off Santa Cruz Island. During the night, the wild weather caused the anchor to come loose and sent Polaris hurtling toward some nearby rocks. But though the waves were high, the wind strong, and the deck slippery and dark, the Scouts knew what to do. Calmly and professionally, they worked together to reset the anchor and save the ship.
Several factors contributed to the boys’ safety that night, but the most important was their ability to work as a team. They will all tell you that without cooperation and everyone doing his job, their ship would have been in pieces.
“You depend on each other the whole time you’re on the boat,” says Joey Scrivens, 14. “Without each other, it won’t work. It won’t come together.”

The Kandlers were the first Mormons in Eugendorf. Their close friend, Hermann Martinz, who joined the Church just a year ago, describes the difficulty they encountered: “Brother Kandler was working as a roofer and a plumber. When the townspeople found out he had joined the Church, his employees quit work, and he lost a contract to re-roof the large cathedral in town. But the stake patriarch told him not to worry, that because he was so brave, the Lord would bless him. The town boycotted him—no more jobs in Eugendorf. But now he’s got so much work in neighboring villages and in Salzburg that it doesn’t matter.”