Gospel Story Finder

An old fable, and one of my favorites over the years, tells this story:
A Japanese scholar each evening talked with workmen from a factory. One night he told the men that he would bring them something of beauty on the morrow. One man asked the scholar to bring him a rose, another asked for a branch, and the third requested a lily. The next evening he handed out the rose, the branch, and the lily.
“There is a thorn on my rose,” said the first man. The second complained, “There is a dead leaf on my branch.” “There is a clump of dirt on my lily,” cried the third.
The scholar took all his gifts back and said, “You had a beautiful rose and saw only the thorn; you had a lovely green branch and saw only the dead leaf; and on the glorious lily you saw only the clump of dirt.”

Another wonderful example of finding purpose in life is Helen Keller Helen was born in Alabama in 1880. She suffered an illness that left her both deaf and blind before her 2nd birthday. She was extremely intelligent and became frustrated as she tried to understand and make sense of her surroundings. When Helen felt the moving lips of family members and realized that they used their mouths to speak, “she flew into a rage because she was unable to join in the conversation.” By the time Helen was six, her need to communicate and her frustration grew so intense that her “outbursts occurred daily, sometimes hourly.” Helen’s parents hired a teacher for their daughter, a woman named Anne Sullivan. Anne had struggled with her own serious hardships and understood Helen’s infirmities. At age five, Anne had contracted a disease that caused painful scarring of the cornea and left her mostly blind. When Anne was eight, her mother died; her father abandoned her and her younger brother, Jimmie; and they were sent to a “poor house,” where conditions were so deplorable that Jimmie died after only three months. Through her own dogged persistence, Anne gained entry to the Perkins School for the Blind and vision impaired, where she succeeded brilliantly. A surgical operation gave her improved vision so that she was able to read print. When Helen Keller’s father contacted the Perkins School seeking someone to become a teacher for his daughter, Anne Sullivan was selected. It was not a pleasant experience at the beginning. Helen “hit, pinched and kicked her teacher and knocked out one of her teeth. Anne finally gained control by moving with Helen into a small cottage on the Kellers’ property. Through patience and firm consistency, she finally won the child’s heart and trust.” To help Helen learn words, Anne would spell the names of familiar objects with her finger on the palm of Helen’s hand. “Helen enjoyed this ‘finger play,’ but she didn’t understand until the famous moment when Anne spelled ‘w-a-t-e-r’ while pumping water over Helen’s hand. Helen later wrote:
“Suddenly I felt a misty consciousness as of something forgotten--a thrill of returning thought; and somehow the mystery of language was revealed to me. I knew then that "w-a-t-e-r" meant the wonderful cool something that was flowing over my hand. That living word awakened my soul, gave it light, hope, joy, set it free! … Everything had a name, and each name gave birth to a new thought. As we returned to the house every object which I touched seemed to quiver with life.”

Flying is what Kathryn Young wants to do. To take the controls of a machine that can carry you above the clouds. To speed through the skies, dipping and looping above the jagged hills below. Yes, flying is what Kathryn wants to do.
And if Kathryn’s grandmother, Ethelyn Sowards, were still here, she would be cheering her granddaughter on. After all, flying is a tradition for the girls in her family. Kathryn’s grandmother was one of an elite corps of women pilots who served their country during World War II. They were not allowed in combat. But those women fliers were invaluable as pilots who moved planes from the factories to the air force bases or moved planes from base to base as needed.
Kathryn Young of the Manhattan Second Ward has been accepted as a cadet in the Air Force Academy in Fort Collins, Colorado. “My grandmother died when I was six, but I always heard about her flying.” There were stories about her grandmother’s flying ability, like the contests in the skies over the Texas cotton fields. Kathryn’s grandmother won most of the time.
Kathryn’s grandmother is an inspiration to her. She stayed home and raised her children and taught them the gospel. “I feel like she was ahead of her time. I’m the first person in my school to have applied to the Air Force Academy, let alone go. In that way, I may be like my grandmother.” Just knowing that her grandmother was a woman of faith, a wonderful mother and grandmother, and a great pilot lets Kathryn know that she can set her goals high and make them come true. Her grandmother did; so can she.

There may be a time when a person would have doubts concerning the ability or qualification of someone being called to a position in the Church. One brother in my acquaintance once learned a great lesson in this regard. Years ago, as a ward teacher supervisor, he had a problem motivating a particular ward teacher to perform his duties. The supervisor found it necessary to do this man’s ward teaching for six consecutive months. One night in a sacrament meeting, my friend was called upon to sustain this man to be a member of the bishopric. He struggled within himself to know whether he should sustain a man who had not performed his duties as a ward teacher and whom he felt did not have the qualities necessary to be a good member of the bishopric. Reluctantly, he finally voted in the affirmative. In the ensuing months the slothful ward teacher took hold of his position in the bishopric and moved the work of the Lord forward. He served successfully as a member of the bishopric and later as a bishop, a high councilor, and eventually as a counselor in a stake presidency.

The children of the Calderón family started a great transition for their family. Jared, age 15, was the first to join the Church, followed a year later by his sister, Angie, 13. Their parents joined the Church three years after Angie’s baptism.
At first this family from Costa Rica had no idea how much the gospel of Jesus Christ would change their lives. They were introduced to the Church by a family member in 2002, and for many months afterward the Calderóns regularly invited the missionaries to their home so they could learn more. As they did so, the family experienced a transformation—a true conversion.
Before the family joined the Church, the Calderóns were concerned that Jared and Angie were having a hard time getting a moral and spiritual education in a world that downplays religion.
The gospel, the Calderóns found, had answers to the problems they were facing. “When we came to understand the gospel and started applying its teachings, that knowledge changed the way we lived,” says Brother Calderón. “We learned who we are and how we can return to our Heavenly Father. Because of what we found, we have lived a richer spiritual life.”
It wasn’t always easy to accept readily what they were learning from the missionaries, but as they tested gospel principles, they gained a testimony of them. “As we learned about gospel standards,” says Sister Calderón, “we tried to stay within the boundaries of worthiness. I gave up drinking coffee. (And I drank plenty of coffee before then!) We made goals as a family to not swear, to speak kindly to each other, and to keep other good principles.
“The main sacrifice we made was our pride,” she continues. “We had to learn to be humble, but as we’ve tried to learn and live with humility, we’ve received many blessings and experienced great progress as individuals, as a couple, and as a family.”

“Aloha,” Father said when he found Allie feeding the family cow, Spot.
“Aloha!” Allie replied. She and her family had lived on the Sandwich Islands for just a few months, but the Hawaiian word already felt familiar on her tongue.
“I have wonderful news. The king of Hawaii, King Kalakaua, is coming to visit our new chapel, right here in Laie.”
“The king!” Allie squealed.
“Yes,” Father said. “Now let’s go find your mother and brother so we can tell them the exciting news. We have a lot of work to do before he arrives.”
The next few days were a blur of activity. Father finished painting the chapel. Mother and Sister Partridge prepared a breakfast at the mission house for the visitors’ arrival.
“It will be fit for a king,” Mother declared. Allie giggled—never had those words been so true!
Meanwhile, hundreds of Saints came to Laie from all over the Hawaiian Islands for this special meeting. Hawaii now had over 3,600 Latter-day Saints. Nearly 300 had joined the Church since Father had received his mission call last April.
The night before the king’s arrival, Allie stood back with Father and admired all of their hard work on the mission house. Braided ferns covered the railings. Exotic flowers added bright splashes of color. The Hawaiian flag floated grandly in the breeze.
“I’m sure the king will love it,” Allie said. “I can’t wait to hear all about his visit.”
October 6, 1883, dawned bright and clear. Allie watched as Mother dressed in her best dress and left with Father to welcome the king at the mission house. Hours later, they returned with quite a story to tell.
“Hundreds of Saints lined the road and cheered as the king arrived,” Father said. “After the king ate breakfast with us, your mother and I took him to the chapel. It was so full that five hundred people had to stand outside the building!”
“Three choirs from different islands sang, and the king himself spoke to the crowd,” Mother added. “He thanked the Church for honoring the laws of the land and told us to continue our good works. Then we had a feast for more than a thousand people! There was beef, pork, chicken, watermelon, and corn.”
“But we had no plates, knives, forks, or spoons,” Father said. “We had to eat with just our fingers!”
“Even Mother?” Allie gasped.
“Even me,” Mother said with a laugh. “And I rather enjoyed it!”
“His majesty enjoyed it too,” Father said. “It was a very important day for the Church here.”
And our family got to be part of it, Allie thought as she watched the sun set over the purple and gold horizon. The day was ending, but things were just beginning for the Church on the Hawaiian Islands.

I clipped an article written by Jay Evensen from the Deseret Morning News. With his permission, I quote from it:
“How would you feel toward a teenager who decided to toss a 20-pound [9-kg] frozen turkey from a speeding car headlong into the windshield of the car you were driving? How would you feel after enduring six hours of surgery using metal plates and other hardware to piece your face together? …
“… The victim, Victoria Ruvolo, … was more interested in salvaging the life of her 19-year-old assailant [attacker], Ryan Cushing, than in … revenge. … She insisted on offering him a plea deal. Cushing could serve six months in the county jail and be on probation for five years if he pleaded guilty to second-degree assault.
“Had he been convicted of first-degree assault—the charge most fitting for the crime—he could have served 25 years in prison. …
“According to an account in the New York Post, Cushing … made his way to where Ruvolo sat in the courtroom and tearfully whispered an apology. ‘I’m so sorry for what I did to you.’
“Ruvolo then stood, and the victim and her assailant embraced, weeping. She stroked his head and patted his back as he sobbed, and witnesses … heard her say, ‘It’s OK. I just want you to make your life the best it can be.’”1
Who can feel anything but admiration for this woman? Somehow forgiveness, with love and tolerance, accomplishes miracles that can happen in no other way.

For example, a sister missionary recently wrote to me: “My companion and I saw a man sitting on a bench in the town square eating his lunch. As we drew near, he looked up and saw our missionary name tags. With a terrible look in his eye, he jumped up and raised his hand to hit me. I ducked just in time, only to have him spit his food all over me and start swearing the most horrible things at us. We walked away saying nothing. I tried to wipe the food off of my face, only to feel a clump of mashed potato hit me in the back of the head. Sometimes it is hard being a missionary because right then I wanted to go back, grab that little man, and say, ‘EXCUSE ME!’ But I didn’t.”

When I look back into my life, 13 years ago, I remember the times I used to wander aimlessly with loneliness seeking for some kind of inspiration. And that’s the time when the Lord showed me this true church. I started coming to church and was baptized on October 16, 2005. Later I learned about the gospel regularly and followed it consistently, which helped me make wise choices in many aspects of my life, and this helped me grow spiritually.

I don’t like that George Bacon! Yesterday he dipped my braids in black ink, and today he pulled out my hair ribbon.
This evening George Bacon walked by my house, playing softly on his harmonica.
George came calling tonight. We had a lovely visit. After he left, I found his handkerchief in the corner of a chair. I wonder if he means for me to keep it.
George and I are to be married tomorrow! Mother will let me borrow her beautiful gold pin to wear.

This story is about my little brother, Daniel. One day, when our family was driving through a storm, our big brothers told us that a car was a safe place to be during a thunder-and-lightning storm because it has rubber tires. Tyler, 10, trying to help Daniel not be afraid, told him that if the rubber tires would keep us safe, maybe the thick rubber on the bottom of Daniel’s shoes would also help him to be safe.
One night, Daniel, I, Mom, and two of Mom’s friends—Sister Bowen and Sister Eyring—were together when it suddenly started to rain. The rain got louder and louder, and there was lots of lightning outside. The thunder was booming very loud. The lights went out, and it was very dark. Mom went to find candles and flashlights. While she was gone, I said a prayer with Daniel to ask Heavenly Father to protect us.
After the prayer, Daniel must have been remembering what Tyler had told him about rubber shoes, because he looked to see if everyone was wearing some. He saw that he was barefoot and begged Mom to bring his rubber shoes. Sister Bowen sat by us and said that Daniel could wear her rubber shoes until Mom found his. Even though they were too big for him, he was glad to have them on. Then he started to cry. He said, “If I’m wearing Sister Bowen’s rubber shoes, then she won’t have any to protect her.” He gave them back to her so that she’d be safe. He told Mom later, “I wanted Sister Bowen to be safe. I had to give her shoes back, because if I was wearing her rubber shoes, she might have got hit by lightning. I didn’t want her to die.”
Mom told us that when we care and sacrifice for others, like Daniel did for Sister Bowen, we are showing that we really are trying to be like Jesus Christ. She said that the best way to be protected is to pray to Heavenly Father, just as Daniel and I had when the lights first went out. We are glad to know that we can pray anytime, anywhere.

Creak, creak. Bang, bang, bang!
John looked up from his plate as he heard footsteps and then a loud pounding at the door. It was early evening on a steamy summer Sunday, and five-year-old John was finishing supper with his parents, two brothers, and three sisters. He wondered who could be visiting his family.
Father got up and opened the door. “Let us in, Zachariah!”
John groaned inside as he turned to see his father’s cousins. Dan and Marv were loud and swore a lot, and they didn’t like Mormons. Ever since John’s family had been baptized six years ago, their relatives had harassed them about being Mormons. Lately it had been getting worse.
Dan pushed past Father and stepped into the room. “We’re here to say that you have to stop associating with those missionaries and leave that church of yours,” he said. “Your relatives are tired of being called ‘Mormon-lovers.’”
“I’ve told you we’re not leaving our church,” Father firmly replied. “We joined because we know it is the true Church of Jesus Christ.”
John’s parents had been baptized before he was born, but he had heard their story many times. The elders first knocked on their door in the spring of 1883. Father was impressed with the missionaries’ knowledge of the Bible and the good feeling they brought with them on their visits. He spent months studying with them and finally decided to be baptized. Mother and the older children also joined the Church.
Cousin Marv’s face darkened in anger when he heard Father’s answer. Marv leaned toward Father and spoke in a threatening tone. “If you won’t leave that church of yours, you’d better leave Tennessee. If you don’t, we’ll take care of you just like they took care of Gibbs and Berry.”
John shuddered. He was named after the missionary who baptized his parents, Elder John Gibbs. Five years ago, Elder Gibbs and Elder Berry had been martyred by a mob.
Father straightened his back and stood tall. “I will not leave my church or stop supporting the missionaries,” he replied in a steady voice. “I would rather die a martyr than renounce my faith in Jesus Christ and His Church.”
John’s eyes widened, for Father’s face seemed to shine as he spoke. John felt a warm and peaceful feeling replace his fear.
“Leave our home now,” Father told his cousins. “I will take my family to Zion. You won’t be bothered with our presence here much longer.” His cousins glared at him, then tromped out the door and slammed it behind them.
Mother stood up and walked over to Father. She put her arms around his waist and looked up into his eyes. “We’ll have to leave sooner than we thought,” she said.
John’s family was trying to save money to move to Zion, but they barely had enough to survive. He wondered how they would get enough for the eight of them to make the journey from Tennessee to Utah.
As if reading John’s mind, Father spoke to the family. “We don’t have enough money saved to travel all the way to Zion, but we will start our journey next week. We’ll have to work along the way to earn money for the rest of the trip.” He paused, then quietly added, “The missionaries taught us that no sacrifice is too great for the Lord. Now it’s time for us to follow their example.”
As John finished his supper, he thought of the journey ahead. How long would it take? What would Zion be like? John didn’t know what lay ahead, but he would stand tall in faith, just like his father.

My amazing mother has had dementia-Alzheimers for over 10 years now. My dad’s lovingly taken care of her and attended to her every need at home until the last four years, when she needed to go to a memory care facility. He feeds her every meal because her capacity is so diminished. But she’s been a bright, multi-talented woman all her life…and a wonderful mother. I want to tell you a little about her…

She was an incredible pianist and taught for just $2 a lesson…just so children who couldn’t really afford it could learn to play.
Mom was an awesome seamstress! She’d stay up late making something special for homecoming or other dances. By the time my sister Alicia came along 8 years later—our folks had some money to buy her clothes. But Mom sewed all of mine…through most of college. And she did a great job!
She drove us great distances to music lessons so we could develop our talents—and even joined me playing violin in the orchestra at a Catholic girls’ convent, which my violin teacher conducted.
Mom was such a good homemaker…she was a great cook…and so clean, you could lick her floors and think they tasted good!
As an adult, she was a substitute teacher, a volunteer, and she took voice lessons. She was a renowned choir director in our California stake for decades…and put on more beautiful programs than you can count—both religious and secular. And, after they retired and moved to Utah from California …Mom played the violin in a local symphony orchestra.
She would do anything to help anyone, always serving. And she and my dad served a senior couple mission to Ireland—even though she was a bit nervous. But she was faithful and found she could do that, too…and her sweet personality won many Irish hearts. I love her dearly…and that’s the way I always think of her in my mind. Gentle and fun…never overbearing. Always kind.
Even though Mom still looks much the same…her memory is gone…along with her recognition of most of her family members. She doesn’t speak and can’t really do anything for herself. It is so very sad—yet we are thrilled she is still with us…and she’s still wonderful, beautiful Renée. I often wonder—why her? And, sometimes, I think--why us? Or why me?
But maybe, instead, we should ask the question Elder Maxwell asked when he was diagnosed with leukemia: “Why not me?” And ask…What am I to do? What am I to learn? What am I to change? Whom am I to help?
In time, we all realize that “there are beautiful sunrises even after devastating sunsets.” Heavenly Father continues to pour down blessings, even when we’re in the midst of our trials. And we, too, have seen that in our family.

A young woman I know was a little frustrated with friends questioning her standards: “Why can’t you date before 16?” “Why don’t you drink?” When she prayed about how to handle this situation, this idea came to her mind: “I’m going to put a For the Strength of Youth booklet in my jeans pocket. When people question me about, for example, dating, I’ll give them the book and tell them to read the section on dating.”

It turned out to be a great idea! In three months she gave out 52 copies of For the Strength of Youth. And three new friends started attending church with her.

This young woman was bold in a friendly way and didn’t apologize for her standards. When youth live standards clearly and without apology, others will respect them and look to their example.Mary N. Cook, second counselor in the Young Women general presidency.

Many years ago, I got a phone call from a good friend who had been hired to play Santa Claus at a local mall. He wasn’t the real Santa Claus but was just one of his helpers. He explained that he needed someone to take his shift. He asked if I would substitute for him for just one night. I have to admit that this job was perfect for me. I always enjoy making children smile, so I gladly agreed.
The evening arrived, and I soon found myself in a small back room at the Eastview Mall. I changed into that familiar red suit, those polished black boots, and that white beard. I needed quite a bit of extra padding to make everything fit. But with a little effort, the Santa makeover was complete.
As I walked through the mall to get to my place, I was delighted to see how excited the young children were to see Santa. Even adults couldn’t help but smile and wave.
Once I sat down, the gate to the workshop opened. A long line of parents and children kept coming in. All but the very shyest children climbed up on my knee, and I listened patiently while they told me their Christmas wishes.
I was having a terrific time. It was great to interact with all the young children who looked at Santa with such wide-eyed wonder. I am proud to say that I really played up the role. I perfected my “Ho, ho, ho!” and even managed a laugh or two that made my belly shake like a bowl full of jelly.
A woman brought a small boy to me. “Excuse me,” she said. “He just wanted to come and say hello.”
I invited him to sit on my lap, but she declined, explaining that he didn’t speak English.
“He’s from Belgium,” she said. “He speaks French.”
My first reaction was, “Oh, this is going to be fun!” Nine years earlier, I had served a French-speaking mission in Quebec, Canada. Although I was no longer fluent in French, I could still have a conversation with a four-year-old. So I turned to the boy and, in French, invited him to come sit with me. The woman’s eyes grew wide and her jaw dropped, but the boy beamed and jumped onto my lap!
After several delightful minutes, it was time to say goodbye because the line had steadily grown while we were talking. Still, I congratulated myself on what felt like a real Christmas miracle—just like the one in Miracle on 34th Street.
But then I did something out of character for Santa. I felt impressed to tell the boy, “Always remember that Santa loves you.” I recall instantly thinking, “What a strange thing for Santa to say!” But the boy hugged me. And then he smiled and waved and ran back to the woman.
She led him a few steps away and then stopped. She asked him to wait there and turned back to me. “I don’t know what just happened,” she told me with tears in her eyes. “But I need to tell you something.”
She explained that she was the little boy’s aunt. She had returned with him from Belgium only a few days earlier. “His mother and father were killed in a car crash,” she said. “I’m his only living relative. I have just brought him to the United States to live with me.”
Her tears began to fall more freely. “But it’s Christmas, and I simply had no idea how we were going to make it through this season. It’s supposed to be joyful and magical, but all I could feel was sorrow. I kept praying, ‘God, help us both get through this.’”
She decided to bring him to the mall. “I know it seems silly,” she continued, “but I thought that if we walked around and just looked at the stores and the holiday decorations, it would at least give us a little distraction.”
“But my nephew saw you and said that he had to come see you. I told him, ‘No, honey, Santa won’t be able to understand you.’ But he said, ‘Yes, he will. I need to talk to him.’ And he literally pulled me to you.”
She looked at me again and said, “I don’t know how this happened, but thank you.”
I had been enjoying playing the coolest Santa ever. But in that instant, I knew that my being at the mall that evening was not about me at all. Instead, it was about one child who needed his own Christmas miracle.
I have no idea how many children climbed onto Santa’s lap for the rest of that night. But I’m sure their loved ones were wondering why Santa seemed to be crying!
Every Christmas, I still think about that boy. I wonder if he even remembers that night he met me and brought tears to my eyes. I’ll never forget how God led me to be just where He needed me to be one winter’s night to bless one of His precious children.
That experience continues to be a strong reminder to me that God knows and loves each of us. He knows our desires—even those expressed through the pure faith of a small child who simply wanted to talk with Santa.

My advice has not always been followed. For example, a few months ago a young neighbor who is a returned missionary drew a tag to kill a moose in the mountains of Utah. Later, his father told me about the hunt. His son was successful in shooting a moose, and then phoned his father to come and help him drag out the huge animal. When the father finally got to the remote location, his son said, “Of all the advice Elder Oaks has given, this is the advice I didn’t follow and wish I had.” He remembered my telling him, “If you’ve got a moose tag, kill the moose near the road.” My young neighbor had shot his moose over a mile from the road, downhill.

Brad Lau doesn’t swear. He wouldn’t think of watching an inappropriate movie. While other guys listen to heavy metal in the locker room, Brad sings hymns he’s learned in ward choir. He never drinks or smokes, and he always minds his mother.
Oh, and he also happens to be a six-foot, 240-pound, all-state fullback who benches 350 and rushed for over 2,000 yards and scored 49 touchdowns during his high school career in Boise, Idaho.
Of all Brad’s statistics, perhaps the most noteworthy is “0.” That’s the number of times he’s used profanity since he started playing football.
A football player who never swears? It may be hard to believe, but Brad’s teammates say it’s true.
“When Brad gets mad on the field, he just shakes his head,” says quarterback Mitch Rasmussen. “He just turns red—beet red,” says tight end Mike Kelley. “He might look like he’s close to swearing, but he never lets it go,” says offensive lineman Nate Black. “He just unleashes a huge hit,” says strong safety Terry Deeble with a knowing grin.
And when Brad takes a hit? “I just say ‘ouch,’” says Brad, shrugging his enormous shoulders.
How does Brad refrain from swearing even in a high-tension sport in which cussing is so common?
For one thing, he avoids profanity in the music, television, and movies he chooses. “Obviously, I can’t go around and control what people say, but I can control what I watch and listen to.”
Although he doesn’t control others, Brad does try to have a positive influence in whatever environment he is in. “In the weight room, kids’ll play trashy CDs. I’ll turn it to something else, and some guys’ll say, ‘Why can’t we listen to this?’ If I ask nicely, ‘Can we listen to something else for a while?’ then they will.”
“When Brad picks the music, they’ll always give him a hard time, but it’s all in good fun,” says Terry.
And in the locker room, especially notorious for filthy talk and music, Brad says he likes to sing hymns.
A football player who sings hymns in the locker room? “Not only that, when Brad starts singing, other guys join in,” says Mitch.
Laughing, Brad recalls, “I remember once after practice I was singing, ‘How Great Thou Art.’ I guess other religions know it too, because all of a sudden even all the non-LDS guys started joining in. I was really surprised!”
So don’t people think Brad’s a little … well, strange?
“Actually, everyone looks up to Brad,” says Steve Warren, a Catholic teammate from high school. “He sets a good example. Everybody just considers him a friend.”
“Guys will tease him a lot, but then they’ll say, ‘Man, I wish I could be like that,’” says Mitch. “They respect him because they see someone who doesn’t back down.”
“And he’s nice to everyone,” says Terry. “I’ve never heard him say a mean thing.”
Perhaps that’s another key to Brad’s abstaining from profanity. He’s won people’s respect, so people respect his standards when they’re around him.
Says Steve, “When I’m around other people, every once in a while a swear word slips out. But when I’m around Brad, I just don’t do it.”
Mike nods his head in agreement. “There were even a couple of times when the coaches were swearing and just started apologizing right away. They weren’t even looking at Brad; they just knew he was around somewhere!”
Brad says when people do swear around him, he uses good-natured humor to encourage them to stop. “I’ll just jokingly say, ‘Heeeeey. Use substitute words!’ I have a good time with everybody.”
“During football season he started telling other players he was going to charge them money for every swear word they said. Some words were worth a quarter, some a dime, and some five cents,” says Steve.
“I didn’t keep track, so I never made any money,” Brad says with a smile.
The answer to why Brad strives to be such an example is probably the biggest key to his success. “I know the Church is true,” he says. “If I have that knowledge, then there’s no reason for me to back down and be timid.
“Why not stand up and support something you know is true? Why not choose the right no matter what anyone else is doing? I’ve set my standards high, and I’m going to live up to them no matter what.”
Maybe you’re thinking, Sure, it’s easy for a star football player to be a strong influence for good. But what about me? Brad has signed on to play for Boise State University after his mission. What will he do when he’s just an unknown freshman?
“It’s going to be harder, obviously, because nobody knows me there yet.” But Brad says he’ll follow the same pattern he did in high school. Brad says this pattern can work for anyone who wants to set an example of using clean language:
Choose music, television, and movies that are free from inappropriate language. “You can control what you watch and listen to.”
Surround yourself with friends who don’t use profanity. “Choose the right friends, and it won’t be a problem.”
Be an example. “If people see that you’re firm in your standards, they’ll respect you. They’ll even help you keep your standards. If you’re easily tempted or overcome, you won’t be as well respected.”
If people around you swear, encourage them to stop. Use humor and kindness. “Stand up and say something. Don’t worry about what people might think. You might even help someone quit.”

Now 15 years old, I went to live with a foster family for about a year. That was when the fifth miracle came. While sleigh riding with two friends, I met an LDS family with two nice daughters. During the ride home, one of the daughters spoke up, saying, “I think the Lord wants us to adopt Ephrem Smith.” Remarkably, the other three members of the family had also received the same inspiration. The father worked with the Department of Social Services, and soon I moved to my new home. From the very beginning my amazing new father gave me agency. For example, he explained that their family goes to church on Sundays. He allowed me to choose to join them or stay home; he said that they still would love me if I chose not to attend church. I chose to attend church, and I have since made many other righteous decisions.

The answer to this question from the Roy Utah Central Stake young women is a resounding, “Yes!” With a goal to collect 1,000 pairs of new or gently used shoes from the members of their stake, the young women organized a shoe drive. On the day of the drive, the young women collected, cleaned, polished, tied together, sorted, and boxed up 1,223 pairs of shoes. The week following the activity, shoes continued to trickle in. When the shoes were finally dropped off at the Church’s Humanitarian Center, there were nearly 1,500 pairs of shoes ranging from baby shoes to hiking boots to sneakers.
One person who donated shoes left a note for the young women that read, “Thanks for doing this. It is a super neat thing for you to do. You will bless many lives.”

In order to come to the point, I want to tell you of a faithful brother who was a member of the same branch in my home country of Germany in the early years of my membership.

He was living in humble circumstances and felt very blessed to have recently begun a job in a small, privately owned company. He told me about an upcoming event where all of the employed people were invited to participate in a traditional company dinner party. He was concerned because he knew that there would be a big beer party at the end of this meeting, with the boss being probably the heaviest beer drinker of them all. But he also knew that it would be considered very impolite if he did not attend the dinner at all.

When I saw him again, after that dinner event occurred, I saw him with a most happy, deep inner glow, and he could not wait to tell me what had happened. Because he was new in the company, the boss had sat right next to him, wanting to get to know him better. As the evening progressed, the brother saw his wildest fears confirmed because the boss would not tolerate that he would not drink beer with him, and he said, “What kind of church is that that would not permit you to drink even a glass of beer with me?”

The fear of my friend did not grow into panic as he was able to calmly answer his boss that the reason he was not drinking had nothing to do with the church that he belonged to, but that he himself had made a sacred covenant with God that he would not drink. If he would ever break this covenant, how could he continue to stay true to that which he would ever promise, and how could he be trusted, even by his employer, that he would not lie or steal or cheat?

According to my friend, the owner was deeply touched by this statement, and he hugged him, speaking words of profound admiration and confidence.