Gospel Story Finder

My heart stopped beating as I peered over the edge of the 90-foot 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 go through with it.
We’d chosen Lake Powell in southern Utah as our graduation retreat, and we were glad temperatures soared into the 90s during that first week of June. It felt great to be healthy, tan, and 18.
As we climbed to the summit of that 90-foot cliff, we laughed at our friends back in the boat who passed up the chance of flying through that great expanse of air toward the water. They were all talk and no action, we joked as we reached the top. They were the same guys, after all, who had passed up almost any form of “entertainment” during our high school years.
My thoughts were suddenly interrupted when Bryce, the bold one, let out a scream and jumped off the cliff. It wasn’t a graceful takeoff, but it got the job done. I watched him flip like a fish as he fell through the sky, and I heard the distant splash when he hit the water. “You’ve got to try it!” he yelled as he pulled himself into the boat. It was a direct challenge.
I looked around and found my three buddies smiling at me. My stomach went sour. It was then I realized that jumping from a 90-foot cliff wasn’t such a hot idea. But how could I pull out now? They’d never let me live it down.
Just when I was about to jump, I was interrupted by Kelly, who barked out an obscenity and took off. 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 he would be in a cast for the rest of the summer, following surgery on both knees.
The three of us who remained were now scared to death, but we wouldn’t admit it. I remember thinking about my acceptance to BYU, and about my plans to serve a mission after my freshman year. For the first time that day, 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. That was comforting.
I slowly walked back from the edge, then raced toward it, lifting my body off the ground as I soared into the warm sky. I looked immediately down and found the water racing toward me. I waved my arms to maintain balance.
My entry into the water was like an explosion, and I heard my back snap. As I sank through the water, I became aware 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 the already-injured Kelly, and I was soon whimpering right along with him.
Kelly and I watched in bewilderment as the remaining two contemplated their own jumps. Despite unfavorable odds, each of them made the leap—successfully.
Since no doctors were within 100 miles of us, I decided to finish the trip with my friends. I lay in a tent for two days, shocked at my stupidity. I was only 18, yet I had risked my life for the sake of “entertainment.”
The doctor who examined my back said I had a compression-fracture which would cause arthritis throughout my life, but I still considered myself very lucky.
For nearly four years I had wandered carelessly through a world of smashed pumpkins and crazy dives. 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 crash through Lake Powell’s waters to plunge me from my fantasy world into a world of reality and responsibility.

Jennette Evans McKay, mother of our ninth prophet, David Oman McKay, had sacrificed a great deal to make it possible for her husband to go on a mission. When the mission call arrived in the mail, Jennette and David had three children, and a fourth—Annie—was to be born very soon. They owned a large farm that required a lot of work.
David did not want to leave his wife with so much responsibility, but Jennette said, “Of course you will go! David O. and I will manage quite nicely.”
After her husband left for Scotland, Jennette McKay had the ward priesthood quorums do her spring planting, and she spent a lot of time teaching her young children how to run the farm. They milked the cows, fed the chickens, gathered eggs, and helped harvest their precious crops.
President David O. McKay remembered listening to his mother many times tell of growing up in Wales, where she was born in the village of Merthyr Tydfil on August 28, 1850.
When Jennette was only six years old, she and her family came to America on a large ship. They had been baptized members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and wanted very much to live with the Saints in Utah.
The Evans family settled in Ogden, Utah, and Jennette was attending school there when she first met David McKay. They were later married by Wilford Woodruff, who would soon become president of the Church.
David and Jennette became the parents of eleven children, eight of whom lived to adulthood. Jennette was a very kind and patient mother, and she taught her children the principles of the gospel each day by word and example. President McKay once said that his boyhood home was “the dearest, sweetest spot on earth.”
Jennette wanted to be sure that her children received a good education, and she sacrificed a great deal of time and money to send them to good schools. Each of her eight surviving children graduated from college!
When Church leaders from Salt Lake City visited the Huntsville area, they often stayed at the McKay home because the town had no restaurant or hotel. Usually when they had guests for dinner, the children knew that they should not take large helpings of food for themselves so that there would be enough for their visitors.
Jennette Evans McKay died in 1905 at the young age of fifty-four. Many years later President David O. McKay went to Wales and dedicated a chapel in Merthyr Tydfil, the village where his mother was born. He also had a large commemorative plaque mounted on the front of the small cottage where his mother was born, and the plaque is still there today.

I don’t ever want to forget him. You see, Hans got really sick last month—Mother said it was meningitis. Even though the doctor and the bishop came to help, he died.
We all cried when Hans died. Mother and Father hugged each other and cried. They hugged me too. Our neighbors and friends came over and they cried. I’m glad that our friends were there. It helped to talk to my friends. It helped to just sit on the porch with them beside me.
Hans’s funeral was in the morning. My grandparents and all my cousins and aunts and uncles came. Our friends and neighbors were there, too. Mother and Father played a song for Hans on the piano and then talked a lot about Hans and Jesus.
Hans is buried near a little pine tree. I like that tree. Father says that we can watch it grow. It will remind us that Hans is really alive, too, only with Jesus.
I know that Hans will always be my brother because Mother and Father were married in the temple. I didn’t know how important that was until Hans died. Now I do.

When I was 14, I began working for a neighbor who raised bees as a hobby. My job was to take care of his horses, paint fences, mow the lawn, and weed the garden.
The beehives were located in the field behind the garden, and it seemed like every time I was there I’d end up getting stung or chased by some angry bee. I was beginning to wonder if the bees were trying to avenge the death of their long-lost ancestor.
I told my neighbor I was going to need combat pay if he wanted his garden weeded. He told me what I really needed was the right equipment. We went into his basement and he got out his bee suit: thick gloves with sleeves that went all the way up my arms, white pants and shirt because white tends to pacify bees, boots, a hat, and a screen mask that covered my face and head.
Feeling protected, I journeyed outside. Unfortunately it didn’t take long before I felt something crawling around on my head. There was a hole on the top of the mask. I’m not sure who panicked first, the bee or me. I took off running for the house, but before I got very far it was too late.
I guess you could say I got the point that day. But I really got it later when I was reading in Doctrine and Covenants 27:15 [D&C 27:15] where it says, “Wherefore, lift up your hearts and rejoice, and gird up your loins, and take upon you my whole armor, that ye may be able to withstand the evil day, having done all, that ye may be able to stand.”

When I was a young girl, my family had a huge furnace in the living room, which made heat by burning coal. Every day one of us had the responsibility of going out to the coal shed behind our house and bringing back a bucket of coal. Then the small bits of coal were poured into one end of the furnace. Throughout the day the bits of coal slowly fed the fire.
Our coal shed held about five tons of coal, and, depending on how cold the weather was, we’d use a ton or a ton and a half every month in the winter. Anytime our coal shed became low, we knew that it was time to call the coal man to deliver more.
One year, however, we did not have enough money to pay for coal, so we didn’t order any. The weather had not yet gotten very cold, and we decided that we could keep warm by wearing our coats around the house during the day and by sleeping under a lot of blankets at night. I still remember how odd it seemed to be able to see our breath inside the house as we talked to one another.
Wearing our coats in the house worked well until the weather suddenly turned really cold. One morning, when we were wondering what we should do, we heard a familiar sound. The coal truck was coming down our street. Everyone looked out the window as it pulled into our yard and began filling up our shed with rich, dark coal.
My mother quickly ran outside to explain that she had not ordered any coal and could not afford the fuel that the man was shoveling into our little shed.
The man just smiled and said, “I know,” and continued to fill our shed with five tons of coal—enough to last the rest of the winter. Then he drove away without saying another word.
Fast offerings had paid for the coal that day. Even now, whenever I see a bit of coal, I remember that others had fasted so that we might be warm that winter.

I was in another country not long ago holding a fireside for young adults. During the question-and-answer portion of the meeting, a young brother raised his hand and asked when the Church would provide more financial assistance for young adults to help them become self-reliant. I thought about this for a moment and then felt impressed to ask him if he had served a mission. He replied that he had. I asked him if he had learned to set goals while on his mission, to plan, to exercise faith, and to work diligently. He was good-natured about it and smiled as he replied that he had in fact learned those life skills. I then said to him, “You are an agent, not an object. You have the ability to act and to do whatever it is that you choose to do. You have been taught everything that you need to be successful in life. Now it is up to you to go forward in faith and to act, rather than to sit back and wait to be acted upon.” I hoped that he felt my love for him and that somehow this exchange helped him to reorient his vision for himself.

Last year I attended Especially for Youth (EFY) for the first time. The days were filled with endless devotionals and personal scripture study. I have never felt the Spirit stronger in my life.
However, on the last day of EFY, I was separated from my friends and felt really lonely. I moodily left my spot at the dinner table and walked out of the cafeteria. As I was walking back to my room, I remembered that I was holding the scriptures in my hands. I recalled my parents saying to me that by reading the scriptures, we can be comforted. I then sat down and began to read.
Right when I had opened my scriptures and began to read, I felt the Holy Ghost. I was overcome with a sense of comfort and joy for the scriptures, and I continued to read. Soon, two people from my group came over and began to read with me. I could tell that they felt the Spirit too.
Ever since that experience, I have had a strong testimony of scripture study and the power and comfort it can give us. I am so thankful for the scriptures and what they can do in our lives.

You’ve heard some of our young men say, “But I can’t find a job. No one will hire me.” May I suggest to you the example of one enterprising 13-year-old who has already produced some handbills that he is passing out in his neighborhood. The handbill reads: “When you’re on vacation and need someone to care for your yard, or if you want any odd jobs done, call Bill, because when you call me, I’ll be there.” He then signed his name and included his phone number. He already has his summer filled with work.

Something was different about nine-year-old Heidi after school that cold afternoon. Instead of flinging her jacket like a Frisbee, she carefully hung it on the hook. Rather than pouncing at the refrigerator like a hungry tiger, she stared quietly out the window as if she was looking at something far beyond the border of the yard.
“Well, hi there!” Mom said, hoping to get her attention.
Like a person awakened from a dream, Heidi looked at her mom and smiled. “Oh, uh, how was your day, Mom?”
Mom wiped her hands on her apron and studied Heidi’s face. “My day was fine. How was yours?”
“Well … ,” Heidi began slowly, “it was … different.”
“I believe you. You seem to be a million miles away.”
“Well, maybe not a million. But at least as far as Arkansas.”
“Arkansas is a long way from California. What started you thinking about Arkansas?”
Mom cut an apple into four pieces and offered one to Heidi, who just cradled it in her hand.
“There’s a new boy named Billy coming to join our class tomorrow. The teacher told us his parents were both in a car accident in Arkansas. His mother died, and his father is in a hospital, not expected to live. Billy was sent here to California to live with an uncle.” Heidi looked down at the apple she was holding. “Can you imagine being that boy, Mom?”
“No, but you’re really trying to, aren’t you?”
Heidi nodded. “I just wish that there was something I could do for him. He’s going to feel so alone tomorrow.”
“I’m sure that there are some things you can do to help. Let’s think of some.”
“I can smile at him.”
“Good idea.”
“I can show him around the school and tell him about our classroom routine.” Heidi put her chin on her hand and looked up at her mother. “But it isn’t enough. Isn’t there something special I can do?”
“Well, there is something special we can do for Billy. Something that just might be ‘enough’.”
“What?”
“You and I can fast and pray for him. We can ask Heavenly Father to bless him to feel at peace in his new home and at his new school. We can also pray for his father to get well. What do you think about that?”
Heidi thought a moment about fast Sundays. She had been taught that fasting would help her feel the Spirit, but she usually just felt hungry and grumpy. She hesitated, but then something inside made her feel that it was going to be OK. She smiled at her mother. “I like that idea. Let’s do it.”
Just then, Heidi’s thirteen-year-old brother, Chris, entered the kitchen. Hearing Heidi’s last sentence, he asked, “Do what?”
Mom briefly told Chris about Billy and explained their plan. Chris said, “I’ll fast with you.”
“Wow! Really?” Heidi asked.
“Yeah, sure,” he answered, reaching for some cookies. Stopping his hand just above the cookie jar, he asked, “When do we start?”
“After dinner,” Mom answered.
The next day, Heidi came home, looking a little pale but happy.
“Wow! I thought fasting on Sundays was hard! Try playing kick ball and watching everyone else eat lunch! But you know, I believe our fasting and prayers helped Billy.”
“Oh good! Tell me about it.”
“Well, when I smiled at him, he smiled back at me. The other kids were pretty nice to him, and he seemed to have made friends with a couple of boys by the end of the day.”
“That’s great,” Mom said.
“And then—it was weird,” Heidi added. “You know how the language on the playground has been really bothering me lately?” Mom nodded, and Heidi continued, “Well, it was amazing, because I heard those same swear words but for some reason, they couldn’t get inside my mind. It was as if my brain was protected all day from getting dirty! Neat, huh?”
“That’s wonderful, Heidi,” Mom said, smiling.
“I’m really tired, but I feel happy. I hope Billy feels as peaceful as I do right now.”
Mom gave her a little hug. “I have a feeling he does.”
Chris came home, flopped into the nearest chair, and let his heavy pack thud to the floor. He leaned his head against the big cushion and closed his eyes. “When do we eat?”
“Let’s finish our fast together with a prayer. We’ll have dinner soon,” Mom suggested. “But first, tell me how your day went.”
“Well, you know how I’ve been dreading P. E. for weeks because a certain guy has been trying to shorten my life span?”
“Yes,” Mom answered, wondering what new form of violence this “gym enemy” had tried on Chris.
“I don’t know how to explain it, but today I didn’t feel any anger toward him, and he left me alone.”
As the three of them knelt to say one more prayer for Billy, Mom put her arms around her children’s shoulders. Was it her imagination, or had they both grown a little taller that day?

Dwight (center) with his mother and friend Jeff on his baptism day.
Photograph courtesy of Dwight G.
I grew up learning Christian values. I knew I was created by God and that He would protect me as I kept His commandments. But eventually I drifted away from my faith and was filled with doubt. In 2020, my friend Jeff, who is a member of the Church, explained BYU–Pathway Worldwide to me, how it can help students learn English and earn a bachelor’s degree online.
I wanted to learn more!
In my country, most young people can’t afford to go abroad for a better education. BYU–Pathway was the solution I didn’t know I needed. My fear of the future was replaced with a new hope that blazed within me, and I knew God hadn’t abandoned me.
I learned many valuable habits and skills in my classes, like how to manage my finances, improve my English, and be a proactive employee. I quickly discovered that BYU–Pathway is not only an educational journey but a spiritual one too. In my classes, I also learned about Nephi and modern-day prophets and came to know that their teachings were true. And I realized that, if I wanted to fully grasp what I was learning, I needed to learn more about the Church.
I shared my feelings with Jeff, and he immediately contacted the full-time missionaries. Each day of study I had with the missionaries filled me with a light that brightened my view of the world. I was like a lost child who was finally coming home. I discovered I am a son of God, I have a purpose, and there’s another book (the Book of Mormon) written by ancient people who recorded the miracles that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ provided for them.
Eventually I was baptized and confirmed a member of the Church of Jesus Christ. And my faith in Jesus Christ has reached a height I never thought possible.
Dwight G., Maritime, Togo

Ever since I was little, I was fascinated by the stories of Church leaders who served in the armed forces. Many of them have been war heroes and great examples of valor and humility in their home countries. Their experiences inspired me to participate in my country’s military.
When I was 13, I entered a school known for its strict military discipline and infantry training. My schedule was demanding. I often was so exhausted by the end of the day that my scripture study and seminary participation seemed impossible.
By my second year at school, I had made plans for my life: upon finishing school at age 18, I would go directly into officer school and graduate four years later as an officer in the Guatemalan Army. All my wishes and dreams seemed to be coming true.
One day I told my mom about my plans, and she asked, “When are you planning to serve a full-time mission?” From that day forward her question lingered in my mind every time I thought about my future.
I still had a rigorous schedule, but I started to show more interest in my spiritual training. I started attending seminary, working with the full-time missionaries, and participating in Church activities. Following the advice of my older brother who was serving a full-time mission, I also began reading the Book of Mormon.
When I was training to be a paratrooper, we had very intense training each day. We would get back to our barracks almost crawling, but I always found the strength to read the Book of Mormon. Daily reading of the scriptures strengthened my spirit and helped me continue with my training.
One evening several of my friends gathered around my bed to ask me some questions about the Book of Mormon and the Word of Wisdom. It was my opportunity to be the best kind of soldier—one who defends the truth and brings freedom through a firm and convincing testimony of the Book of Mormon.
When I was 19, I enlisted again in an army—the army of God, the most powerful army of all. I had the privilege of standing shoulder to shoulder with the valiant elders and sisters of Zion in the battalion of the Mexico Puebla Mission. Girded with the armor of God, we proclaimed the gospel and fought for liberty with courage and strength.
We are fighting against the hosts of darkness, but the victory belongs to God. I want to continue to be a brave soldier, enlisted for our King. We have powerful weapons: the Book of Mormon, the Holy Ghost, and the fulness of the gospel. We are led to victory by living prophets. If we train and prepare ourselves for the coming of our Savior, Jesus Christ, He will give us crowns of honor in celestial glory.

In 2021, my parents were called as mission leaders over the France Lyon Mission. In 2022, Elder Soares came to visit. In his talk to the missionaries, he mentioned that his luggage got lost on one of his flights.
This was kind of a wake-up call for me. It’s easy to see apostles and prophets on our screens and think that life is easy for them. But our leaders don’t ask to do this—they are called to do it. They choose to follow the Lord, and that means leaving behind their plans for the future.
Elder Soares taught me what it means to be a disciple of Christ. Even though he was busy and had his own struggles, he tried to talk to as many members as possible. I realized that the General Authorities are people like you and me who have chosen Christ and work to show His love.
Lydie L.

Dear Mom, Jane wrote.
She paused and tapped her pen against the table. She looked at the fridge, where the newest picture of her and Mom hung. They both had the same chin, the same dark hair, and the same wide smile.
What could she say? Jane wanted to sound happy and strong for Mom, but nothing came to mind. Her heart hurt so much that it was hard to write anything at all.
Jane, Dad, and her siblings had come back from visiting Mom two weeks ago. Mom was in prison, and they had to drive for almost a whole day to see her. Because of the long drive, they didn’t get to see her very often. Mom had been in prison for over a year, and they had only seen her twice.
This time, when Jane had visited, Mom had suggested that they become pen pals. But Jane didn’t want to be pen pals. She just wanted Mom to come home.
Mom’s first letter to Jane had arrived yesterday, written in neat pencil. At the bottom, she had drawn a picture of the two of them having a party together when she got home.
Jane wrote a few lines, then scrunched up the paper. She put her head on the table and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold back tears.
Dad came in with the groceries. “Jane, are you OK?”
Jane shrugged.
Dad sat down and put his arms around her. Jane leaned into his chest.
“How much longer?” she asked.
“Until what?”
“How much longer until Mom can come home?”
Dad was quiet for a long time. Then he said, “It’ll probably be at least three more years, Jane.”
Jane thought her heart would explode. Three years! The last year had been so long and hard. How could she live for three more years without Mom?
“Every single day, I wish your mom was here,” Dad said. “It’s really hard with her gone, isn’t it?”
Jane nodded.
“It’s OK to feel sad,” Dad said. “Sometimes it helps me to remind myself of what I’m grateful for.”
Jane sniffed a little. “Like what?”
Dad smiled. “Like how we get to call Mom every week. And we’re able to send her supplies she needs—and letters.” Dad patted the paper pad on the table. “And … ?”
“And …” Jane thought about it. “I have lots of teachers and friends I can talk to. And Ashley’s mom took me to a Mother’s Day activity. And I’ve been learning to be a better friend and help others.”
“Yes, you have,” Dad said. “How about if we say a prayer, and then you can keep thinking about what you want to write?”
Jane folded her arms. She thanked Heavenly Father that she had been able to see Mom and that they had driven home safely. Then she asked Him to help her know what to write.
She sat at the table, thinking and thinking. Then she started writing something she didn’t expect: a list of things she was grateful for. She listed all the things she had talked about with Dad, plus a few more, like her siblings and her neighborhood.
When she finished, Jane drew a picture of herself and Mom playing board games together. Her heart still hurt a little, but she had one thing to look forward to—for the next three years, she would be the best pen pal ever!

The family’s next stop was Norway. The fjords along Norway’s jagged coast were magnificent. Milo learned that scientists believed the coastal valleys sank and were flooded by the ocean during the ice age more than one million years ago. The steep cliffs went straight down into the cold blue water. The inlets looked like long slim lakes even though one end opened into the sea.
The rocky islands called skerries interested Milo too. They jutted out of the sea along the shore, taking the brunt of the wind whipped up on stormy seas.
Milo read the old Viking tales about their ships, and he saw them come to life at the harbor in Trondheim.
One day Milo went skiing with his father, a sport that originated in the Telemark region of Norway.
“Come along, Milo,” said Father. “Let’s try the Norwegian ski slopes.”
Milo checked his gear, pushed off, and called, “See you later, Dad.”
It was clear and crisp as he went skiing down the mountain. What a great sport! “Hooray for Norway!” he sang out. “Hooray for Norway!”
Suddenly he saw two dark figures against the white snow on the trail ahead of him. But Milo tried to turn too sharply and found himself upended in the snow. A man and a boy came over to see if he was all right.
“I’m Chris,” said the boy, helping Milo up. “Why didn’t you call out?”
“Call out?” Milo said, rather puzzled. “What do you mean? Should I have said, get out of my way?”
“No,” said Chris, “but if you had called av vei (clear of the course) when you left the hill, the echo would have carried down here. We would have been prepared for you and could have made room for you to go by.”
“Is this a custom like calling ‘fore’ in golf?” asked Milo’s father, who had followed his son down the hill.
“Something like that,” the man answered.
“Well,” said Milo’s father on the way home. “You have learned something new today.”
“I have learned two new words,” said Milo.
“You’ve not only learned the words,” said his father, “but when to use them.”

The youth from the Victoria Ward in Hong Kong and from the English-speaking branch in Taiwan combined in making a trip to the Taiwan Temple to do baptisms for the dead.
The group started their excursion with a trip to the peaks of Alishan, part of the central mountain range in Taiwan. The location is popular because of the spectacular sunrises. At 4:00 A.M. when the wake-up call came, the sleepy youth hiked to the highest part of the summit. They were issued cardboard sunglasses with darkened lenses to protect their eyes while they were watching the sunrise. They were not disappointed. The neighboring mountains rose out of the mist, and the sun burst above the final jagged peak. It seemed to set a theme for the trip: “The day dawn is breaking, the world is awaking,/ The clouds of night’s darkness are fleeing away” (Hymns, 1985, no. 52).
Arriving at the temple and performing baptisms was the highlight of the excursion. Garrett Povar of Hong Kong said, “I had a very special feeling in the temple—a feeling of calm and reverence.”
Jennifer Rasmussen said that doing baptisms in the Taiwan Temple added to her testimony. “Being in the temple is a testimony to me that Heavenly Father’s work is going on in different parts of the world. I can see that the worth of a soul is great in the sight of the Lord. I know this because the Church is concerned with the salvation of all.”
The youth had a four-day retreat from the world and from their daily routines. They had fun together, laughed together, and served together.

Our Young Women president gave each of us a challenge to tell our parents that we loved them. It was really hard for me and my sister, because even though our parents knew we loved them, we had never told them.

We decided to prepare dinner and write on their napkins that we loved them. It was a big surprise to our parents and turned out so well that we tell them that we love them every day now.

I believe the key to family unity is family love. Pray, and Heavenly Father will help you find a way to express your love to your family.

Shortly before my marriage, I was talking to my father-in-law to be. He asked me about how I developed my testimony of the gospel. I related to him the story about the article “Tell Him,” and he said, “Do you know what, James? I think my cousin wrote that article.”
It turns out that his cousin, Ken Barker, was the author. Wow! This is one of the most amazing things that has ever happened in my life. This whole experience has shown me how much Heavenly Father is watching over me and all of his children. I also developed a deeper understanding of what the Lord meant when he said, “And out of small things proceedeth that which is great” (D&C 64:33).

After his mission, he studied sociology at Villareal University in Lima. But his first love was the performing arts, so he studied those too. In fact, his study of performing had begun much earlier, at age six. He faithfully attended religious instruction classes in the church to which he then belonged because afterward there were old movies for the youngsters, and he was enthralled by the silent film comedy of Buster Keaton, Charlie Chaplin, and Harold Lloyd. Cesar was nine when missionaries brought the gospel to his family. By eleven, he was performing in his LDS branch’s talent shows.

After studying at Villareal University, Brother Aedo wanted to go to Europe for more advanced schooling in political science. He worked his way through several South and Central American countries performing as a mime until he had saved enough money to fly to Europe. “I went to Europe on my talent, nothing more,” he recalls.

A series of events he considers providential prevented him from enrolling immediately. He spent several weeks in late 1979 and early 1980 visiting with his sister in Geneva, Switzerland—long enough to determine that instead of political science he wanted to study mime with the man who is widely recognized as the master. Brother Aedo knew that through his faith it would happen, if he persevered. So he returned to Paris and was persistent enough that he was finally able to see Marcel Marceau and become one of his pupils.

He spent three years studying with Monsieur Marceau—not only the art of mime, but also dramatic art, classical and modern dance, acrobatics, and fencing. He was one of the few pupils able to earn his tuition and expenses through weekend performances and summer touring. Now he is studying with the man who taught the master, Monsieur Marceau’s eighty-six-year-old mentor, Etienne Decroux. He is also continuing his study of classical dance.

Comedy is a major part of his art. One of his distinctive sketches depicts a traveler who cannot leave because his overloaded suitcase will not budge. The suitcase hangs at the end of the mime’s arm, all the exertions of his body seemingly unable to move it—until he opens the bag and throws out one handkerchief!

His art also has its serious side. “I have much faith in Christ,” he emphasized, adding that talent is given to us on earth to help others, as the Savior taught. Brother Aedo uses his talent to help in obvious ways, by bringing cheer to others and, he hopes, by portraying uplifting aspects of life.

He likes to dramatize some of the stories of the scriptures. Typically, he illustrates with a demonstration. First, he is the humble, saintly brother making his offering to God, and then he is the proud, jealous, cruel one. An observer can feel the piety of Abel and the wrath of Cain.

Cesar Aedo’s art has also helped others in some very tangible ways. Through performing, he has been able to support one of his brothers on a mission to Canada and to bring two other brothers to Paris for schooling.

“I have been able to help all my family. I don’t want to praise myself; I owe thanks to God that I have been able to do this.”

Now thirty, he attends the Paris Singles Ward. Though his life to this point has been full of work, study, and service to others, he looks forward to marrying and building a family.

“Ya viene,” is his expression, common in Spanish-speaking countries. “It will come.”

Walking to church wasn’t the only regular trek Paulo made in exercising his faith. Twice a year he traveled 530 kilometers (330 mi) to attend the São Paulo Brazil Temple. On one of those temple trips he was introduced to Rita de Cássia de Oliveira, who worked in the temple. Odete Lustoza, wife of President Lustoza, had previously met Rita at the temple and had encouraged Paulo to write to her.
Rita was accustomed to life in a big city, and she enjoyed her friends and the blessings of being a member of a ward with a nearby chapel. But after a long-distance courtship that resulted in her marriage to Paulo in the São Paulo temple in 2003, Rita joined him on the farm.
She has adjusted to farm life and is thankful for the blessing of a temple marriage. “The hardest part was finding a husband,” she said. “The rest I can adapt to.”

Thank you so much for printing “Hidden Agony” in your March 1992 issue. It came at a point in my life when I really needed it the most. My older brother sexually abused me when I was about nine years old. I knew it was wrong, and felt awful and dirty because of it. I felt guilty, worthless, and totally confused. That was nine years ago, and it still affects me. Reading the article helped me realize I am not alone and there are people who understand. I am realizing it was not my fault and that our Father in Heaven understands and still loves me. Thank you very much.
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