Gospel Story Finder

My mother also taught us to finish what we started. I took piano lessons as a child and gave my first public performance at a school recital when I was eight years old. I fell down as I was walking up the steps to the stage. I went ahead and performed my number, even though I was crying all the way through it. I had learned that you don’t give up, even when you’re discouraged. You see the job through.

Margaret Lenan Ellis was volunteering as a public affairs specialist when she was tasked with searching out and joining her local community interfaith organisation. With no such organisation in Ballarat, Victoria, she founded the Ballarat Interfaith Network. Its purpose is to demonstrate our connection as part of the human family, expanding understanding and building bridges between faiths, philosophies, and spiritual perspectives. Over the past 20 years, the network’s events have built friendships, respect, peace, love, and service to God and others.

Poao and Atalina Ahhow met while they were both single teachers at Sauniatu. After they were married, they decided to go to BYU—Hawaii Campus and get additional schooling. Atalina said she learned about being a good mother and teaching a family from watching the young people work on the various projects.
“I also learned that you need to check after a project is done. If it isn’t right, do it over,” she said.
Her husband, Poao, said that he learned leadership skills, and once he caught the vision of doing the impossible, he felt he could go away for additional schooling so he could become a better teacher. “I learned that sometimes when the work is very hard, if you make a joke and smile, it seems easier.”
Poao and Atalina struggled at BYU—Hawaii because they didn’t have much money. “We had learned to sacrifice while at Sauniatu, and the Lord blessed us for it. When we needed money to do our washing, we would visit a pool near the temple. Every time we needed a quarter for the washing machine, it was waiting for us in the pool. Sometimes more was there, but we only took enough to do our washing. When we didn’t need money, we never saw money in the pool. This is one way the Lord helped us,” Poao said.

May I share a letter from a grateful recipient of their loving service. He writes:
“The young women [of my ward] very literally saved my life. I was a young bishop, just 29, the father of four beautiful little girls, including a small baby, when Heavenly Father called my wife home to Him. As I met with each of our little girls and asked them what impact this change would mean to them, the concerns of six-year-old Emily, the oldest of the four, were many, including, ‘Who is going to comb and curl my hair for church and put ribbons and clips in it?’ That was a good question to me as well. Who? I was consumed with the idea that life would be as ‘normal’ as possible for all of us—which meant that I would have to learn a whole new way of life. I was their father, and I was going to be the only parent. I realized that I was not equipped with the motherly skills that I needed. I called upon the young women of the ward to train me to be able to satisfy at least the needs of hair care. They came to my home, numerous times, to begin my training. They even showed me how to care for my six-month-old Natalie as far as washing her hair without so much trauma. By the time I ‘graduated,’ I could whip up a mean (but simple) hairdo. Much more than the skill, those young women gave me confidence as a father of daughters—that I could love them, care for them, be there for them, no matter how the rest of my life continued.” Thank you, Brother Michael Marston, for your tender letter.

I think of a young man whose mother died when he was twelve and whose father responded to that loss by locking his son in his room, then drinking alcohol and entertaining women in the house. When he would come to let the boy out, he would beat him senseless, sometimes breaking bones and causing concussions.

As might be expected, the young man grew up full of confusion, self-hate, and resentment. Yet the Lord did not leave him so, but provided friends and opportunities for growth. Today, through a series of spiritually healing miracles, this young man is preparing for a temple marriage to a good woman. Together they are committed to bringing children up in righteousness and gentleness and love.

Tina was pretending to be a queen. She had on a foil crown and a purple cape, and all her dolls and stuffed animals sat before her.
“Read me a story!” she commanded. “Sing me a song!”
“Tina,” her mother called, “where are you? I need you.”
Tina ran into the kitchen, where her mother was stirring something on the stove. It smelled delicious.
“Did you need me to taste something, Mother?” she asked.
Her mother smiled. “No, your Majesty. I need you to feed Joey, please, while I finish stirring this pudding.”
Tina sighed as she sat down next to the high chair. Joey smiled at her as he got some applesauce on his chin. This was too messy a job for a queen! “Off with his head!” Tina ordered, waving the spoon. Joey giggled and clapped his hands, so Tina waved the spoon some more. “Arrest that baby!” she demanded. Joey laughed with delight.
Mother wiped Joey’s chin with a napkin and set a small bowl of pudding in front of Tina.
“Thank you so much for being my helper, Tina,” she said. “It makes me happy, and it makes Joey happy too.”
“It was fun,” Tina admitted. “But I’m not supposed to be a helper today. I’m a queen.”
“You are always a queen,” her mother said. “You are the best kind of queen, a helper queen.”
Tina gave Joey a spoonful of her pudding. “I’ve never heard of a helper queen before.”
Her mother looked surprised. “Helper queens are the most beautiful ones. They are loved by their subjects, and they always live happily ever after.” Mother gave Tina a quick hug, then carried Joey upstairs for his nap.
Tina ate her pudding slowly and listened to the soft lullaby her mother sang. “Bring me more pudding,” Tina whispered to nobody when her bowl was empty. “I’m the queen, and I can have all the pudding I want.” She carried her bowl and spoon over to the sink.
Mother came downstairs and asked, “Tina, would you like to help me put the pudding in dessert glasses for dinner?”
“OK.” Tina nodded. “Can we put marshmallows on top to surprise everyone?”
“That’s a great idea.”
Mother got a phone call, so Tina arranged marshmallows on the pudding by herself. She put four marshmallows around the outside and one in the middle so that they looked like a little white flower. She knew that her family would like that.
When the puddings were ready, Tina had to wait for her mother to help her put them into the refrigerator. She sat down by the window and spoke to herself in a low voice. “Get me a pony! The queen wishes to ride!”
When her mother got off the phone, she said, “Mrs. Owens had her baby. I’m going to take her dinner tonight, and I wish I had something special to take to her daughter, Lara. It’s hard sometimes for big sisters when a new baby comes home.”
Tina’s eyes lit up. “She can have my new purse with the mirror and comb, Mother. We can wrap it up really pretty.”
“That would be wonderful,” her mother said with a smile.
Tina rushed to her room to find the purse. Her dolls and stuffed animals still sat there, waiting for her commands. “Don’t just sit there,” she said in a deep voice. “There’s work to be done. Find my new purse, and wrap it up really pretty!” Tina took the present into the kitchen and set it on the table.
“You did a fine job of wrapping,” her mother said. “Or did your servants do that?”
“I had to help them,” Tina admitted.
“I thought so.” Mother nodded. “It looks like a queenly job to me.”
Tina smiled. “Mother, may I go to the Owens’s with you and give Lara the present?”
Later, when she went to Tina’s room to tell her that it was time to go, Mother was surprised to see all of Tina’s dolls and animals covered with blankets. Tina was sitting on the floor, quietly reading them a story.
“Are they going down for naps?” Mother whispered.
“No.” Tina showed her the nurse’s cap tucked around her crown. “All my subjects are sick, and I’m helping them get better.”
Tina’s mother smiled. “I’m proud of you, Tina. You are truly the greatest helper queen ever!”

Katya listened to the sounds of the train. The iron wheels rolled with a fast, rhythmic music: clackity, clackity, clackity, clack.
The train moved quickly toward the big city of Moscow, toward the airplane that would take Katya to her new home. Soon she would be flying away from Russia, away from her school and her friends, away from her orphanage, and language, and—and everything she had always known.
Her new parents sat beside her on the train. As her new mama asked her a question in English, the interpreter translated. “Are you hungry, Katya?”
“Dah (yes),” Katya said in her quietest voice.
Her new papa pulled out a package of crackers from his travel bag. They munched in silence, their eyes meeting from time to time. Whenever Katya looked up from her cracker, she found her new mama always smiling at her. So far, their only “words” to each other were smiles and nods.
Katya wanted to ask all kinds of questions, but she was afraid. How long will it take me to speak and understand this new language? She wondered. Will my new brothers and sisters like me? Will the children in my new school make fun of me?
Through the window, the villages seemed to race by. She smoothed the skirt of her new dress, then hugged her doll closer. Filled with all her fears, she started crying softly.
She felt her mama’s hand move gently onto hers. Katya watched while her mama pulled a small tape recorder from the travel bag and turned it on. The music was gentle, and when the singing began she was glad to hear that the words were Russian.
“Ya Gospodnia dietia (I am a child of God).” She had never heard such ideas. The song continued, “And he has sent me here, Has given me an earthly home With parents kind and dear.”*
As Katya listened to this new song—with its ideas she had never before thought about—the words seemed to melt through her, slowly finding their way to her heart, until she felt as if her whole self, inside and out, was covered with a warm quilt.
As the music continued, she smiled at her new parents and they smiled back.
The new song had chased her fears away.

For 50 years, another sister yearned for a relationship with her father. “Growing up,” she says, “there were my brothers and my dad, and then there was me—the only daughter. All I ever wanted was to be ‘good enough’ for my dad.
“Then my mom passed away! She was my only liaison between my dad and me.
“One day,” the sister said, “I heard a voice say, ‘Invite your dad and take him to the temple with you.’ That was the beginning of a twice-a-month date with my daddy to the house of the Lord. I told my dad I loved him. He told me he loved me too.
“Spending time in the house of the Lord has healed us. My mom could not help us on earth. It took her being on the other side of the veil to help mend what was broken. The temple completed our journey to wholeness as an eternal family.”
The father says, “The temple dedication was a great spiritual experience for me and my only daughter. Now we attend together and feel our love strengthen.”

Recently I awoke from a most disturbing dream. I ached physically, was saturated with perspiration, and my heart was pounding. Every sense was sharpened. The transition from sleep to wakefulness was imperceptible. I have come to recognize that as an indication of a significant spiritual experience in a dream. I had been taught lessons that would change my life. Although the actual dream was extensive, the key lessons communicated can be summarized by reference to a few specific experiences in the dream.

In it I found myself in a very different and unknown environment. Everything was strange to me. I could not recognize where I was or any of the individuals who surrounded me. I was anxiously seeking my wife, Jeanene. We had been separated, and I wanted very much to find her. Each individual I encountered said that I would not be able to do that. Repeatedly as I sought in different directions to find her, I was emphatically told to forget her for she would not be found. I was frustrated at every turn. One said, “She is no longer the same individual. There isn’t a Jeanene like you knew.”

I thought, that is impossible. I know her, and I know she will never change.

Then I was told, “You are not the same. There is no individual by the name of Richard Scott, and soon all of the memories you’ve had of Jeanene, your children, and other loved ones will be eradicated.”

Fear entered my heart, accompanied by a horrifying feeling. Then came the thought: “No, that is impossible. Those relationships are enduring and unchanging. As long as we live righteously, they cannot be eliminated. They are eternally fixed.”

As more encounters came I realized that I was surrounded with evil individuals who were completely unhappy, with no purpose save that of frustrating the happiness of others so that they too would become miserable. These wicked ones were striving to manipulate those persons over whom they sought to exercise control. I somehow was conscious that those who believed their lies were being led through treachery and deceit from what they wanted most. They soon began to believe that their individuality, their experience, and their relationships as families and friends were being altered and lost. They became angry, aggressive, and engulfed by feelings of hopelessness.

The pressure became more intense to accept as reality that what I had been no longer existed and that my cherished wife was no longer the same. Should I encounter her she wouldn’t recognize me nor want me. I resisted those thoughts with every capacity that I could find. I was determined to find her. I knew that there must be a way and was resolute in searching no matter what the cost in time or effort.

It was then that I broke out of that oppressive surrounding and could see that it was an ugly, artificial, contrived environment. So intense were the feelings generated by what I had been told by those bent on destroying my hope to take me captive that I had not realized the forces of opposition that made my efforts appear fruitless could have no power over me unless I yielded through fear or abandonment of my principles. The environment appeared real, yet it had been generated from fear and threat. Although it was simulated, to those who let themselves believe the falsehoods thrust upon them it became reality.

I can now understand that because of my faith in the truths of the gospel plan, I could break through Satan’s manipulative, evil environment to see it as it is—not only in the dream, but in real life as well—a confining, controlling, destructive influence that can be overcome by faith in and obedience to truth. Others were disheartened, disoriented, and finally overcome as they lost hope because they either lacked a foundation of truth to engender conviction, courage, and confidence or they let their belief be overcome by the pressure of the moment.

As I awoke there flooded over me feelings of love and gratitude for our Heavenly Father and his Beloved Son that I do not have the capacity to express. My heart and mind filled with consuming love for them and inexpressible appreciation for the blessings that are available to every spiritual child of Father in Heaven willing to believe and be obedient to the plan of happiness. I cannot convey the unspeakable joy, the feeling of being wrapped in pure love, the absolute assurance that we will never lose our identity or memory of cherished relationships or the benefits of righteous acts as we continue to resist evil and are obedient to truth.

I rest for a moment and watch the pink sky brighten. Early mornings are so special that I wonder why I hated them as a child. I spent my thirteenth summer at my grandmother’s house in Preston, Idaho. I wanted to eat raspberries, swim in the canal, and read books, but my stern grandmother insisted that I tend the roses, pick the strawberries, and learn to sew. I used to hide under the covers and pretend to be asleep as I heard my grandmother making breakfast. She called to me to come outside and work in her garden, but I ignored her when I could and let the clicking of her pruning shears and the rustling of the bushes lull me back to sleep.

When I had to work in the garden, I complained. Yet talking to my grandmother as the sun spun its way across the sky, I came to love her. In the garden, she didn’t seem so austere and forbidding as she usually did. She told me of her love for my grandfather and how she had never given up on him, though for years he was not a member of the Church. Her eyes grew misty and she smiled as she told me that the happiest day of her life was the day Grandfather took their family to the temple to be sealed.

I hear Jon’s motorcycle as he roars off to work, and I rest for a moment. My tears drop like rain as my heart follows him. Then I remember my grandmother. I remember watching her graft a branch from one of her most beautiful rosebushes onto an old, half-dead bush. Her voice echoes to me from years ago. “I won’t give up on this bush without a fight,” she had said to me on that long-ago morning. “It’s too precious not to try to reclaim.”

For many years our family has enjoyed the annual tradition of camping high in the Uintah Mountains of northeastern Utah. We travel 20 miles (32 km) over a rocky dirt road to arrive at a beautiful green valley with towering canyon walls and through which runs a river filled with cold, clear water. Each year, hoping to reaffirm the value of gospel doctrine and practices within the hearts of our children and our grandchildren, Susan and I ask each of our six sons and their families to prepare a short message on a topic they feel is an important element in the foundation of a Christ-centered home. We then gather for a family devotional in a secluded place, and each presents their message.
This year our grandchildren wrote the topic of their message on stones and then, one by one, buried them next to one another, representing a sure foundation upon which a happy life is established. Woven among all six of their messages was the immutable, eternal truth that Jesus Christ is the cornerstone of that foundation.

Next, President Hinckley said we should be trustworthy in our motives. I learned a great deal about pure motivation as we served to prepare for the Olympics. The First Presidency had suggested to members of the Church along the Wasatch front that they get involved in their communities to be good hosts to the guests who would be coming from throughout the world to attend the Olympic games. President Hinckley had said on many occasions that he hoped we would be good hosts and that he hoped there would be a legacy of goodwill in the community because of the games. Such a large event required that everyone work together. President Hinckley also said publicly and it was reported in the media that the Church would not use the Olympic games as an opportunity to proselytize.

Among our other assignments, Ray and I were asked to be responsible for the training of about 5000 Church volunteers who would host guests at Church sites. We formed a committee to develop the training with the decision to base the training on the chapter in President Hinckley's book on Civility. In the training we discussed how we could prepare ourselves to be good hosts. We quoted President's Hinckley's words, ". . .the essence of civility (is) to extend, without price, a helping. . .hand. . ."[13] Think about that. "Without price." That is a pure motive-- a motive that can be trusted. Without price means your concern is for the other person. You are not promoting your own agenda. We must have repeated thousands of times these words: We want to be good hosts. The Church will not use the Olympic Games as an opportunity to proselytize. The essence of civility is to extend without price a helping hand. I learned how important it is to identify the desired outcome and then provide training and preparation. I believe the members of the Church and the people in the State of Utah were good hosts. The International Olympic Committee said that Utah was the volunteer mecca of the world. It soon became apparent that it is obvious to others when motives are pure.

I was visiting a patriarch a while ago. He told about a blessing he gave to a woman who came to him from one of the missions. Among other things he told her that her progenitors had made a great contribution to the bringing forth of the gospel in these latter days. And after the blessing was given she said, “I’m afraid you made a mistake this time. I am a convert to the Church; I am the first one of my family to join the Church.”
“Well,” the patriarch said, “I don’t know anything about it. All I know is that I felt prompted to say that to you.” And when he told me the story, she had just been in the genealogical library and had found that some of her relatives—her grandparents or her great-grandparents—had made great sacrifices in the early days of the Church. A part of the family had drifted up into the East and had been converted. She found that she was descended from some of the early pioneers. The patriarch did not know of it himself. He had spoken by the inspiration of the Holy Ghost.

Cantonments Athlete Serves on and off the Court
Martin Aggrey, a standout athlete from the Cantonments Ward in the Accra Ghana Christiansborg Stake, has turned his passion for sports into preparation for missionary service. In high school, he excelled as a sports leader, especially in volleyball. But it was at the stake center where he discovered a new love—pickleball.
Introduced to the game by senior missionaries, Martin quickly became hooked. “The spiking reminded me of volleyball, and the quick hand movements were like table tennis,” he said. Though unfamiliar at first, he embraced the challenge under the guidance of mentors like Elder Halladay, Elder Sackley, and Elder Galland—missionaries whose faith and example inspired him both spiritually and athletically.
That dedication recently paid off. Martin and his 15-year-old partner clinched second place in the men’s doubles at the 2025 Battle of the Paddle tournament. Now preparing to serve a full-time mission, Martin draws a clear parallel between rising in sport and progressing in discipleship: “If you expect the best from yourself, you will always improve.”
He looks forward to serving the Lord and plans to continue his athletic pursuits upon his return.

The Primary children of the Ardmore Ward in the Norman Oklahoma Stake love to serve others. Their leaders challenged them to find ways to serve in secret. When they read about the invitation to help someone in need for President Thomas S. Monson’s birthday, they were excited to have a service activity. They decided to make hygiene kits and children’s kits. But no one knew how much the kits would soon be needed.
For a few weeks, ward members donated soap, shampoo, toothpaste, crayons, soft toys, and other items for the kits. At their activity, the children packaged 15 hygiene kits and 15 children’s kits. In each kit, they included a big paper heart with the scripture, “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life” (John 3:16).
Then a terrible tornado swept through their community. Many people lost their homes and belongings. The Primary gave the hygiene kits and children’s kits to people in their community who needed them right away. Giving service helped the children feel thankful and peaceful during a hard time. They learned that serving is a blessing to both the receiver and the giver.

In the summer before my junior year I got news of an LDS 11th-grader moving into our area. I was ecstatic. She was an answer to prayer. It’s amazing how much we have in common and how well we get along. Together with another senior, we made up the three LDS girls at my high school. With three boys, that made six Latter-day Saints among 950 students. While the school year was stressful for all of us, we were always there to support each other. We stuck together through bad times and great times.
We went together one night to the Washington D.C. Temple Visitors’ Center. That night Katie, Paige, and I took a long walk around the temple. There was such a feeling of peace and love. There, the three of us made a pact with one another to work towards temple marriages and to settle for nothing less. We see the eternal perspective on choosing the right day-by-day. We are striving to gain the highest reward: eternal life. The Lord provided a way for three girls to choose the right, and I have never felt so good inside.

My wife, Alice Mae, and I were serving as senior missionaries in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, USA. We were in the next-to-last month of our mission when the degradation of my motor skills became too much to ignore. Following the advice of the mission doctor and nurse, I went to a local hospital.
I had an EKG and a CT scan. Then a neurologist met with me. She asked more questions and did more tests. Finally, to my surprise, she said, “Mr. Lemon, you have Parkinson’s disease.” It was not a diagnosis I expected, and it was certainly not a diagnosis that I wanted. But what could I do?
That was two years ago, and it started a process I have since grouped into four phases. I share them here hoping they may be helpful to others who are dealing with an unwelcome diagnosis. Here are some of the things I have learned.
I searched online. I bought some books. I met with another neurologist. I wanted to know what impact Parkinson’s disease (PD) might have on my life span and ability to function. As I gathered information, I also prayed for guidance. I knew that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ would help me to get the information and medical help I needed. I learned that PD doesn’t typically affect how long you live, but it does affect what you can do. It progresses differently from individual to individual. It gets worse over time. It is not curable.
Once the shock of the initial diagnosis passed, I gradually began to realize the disease was not going to go away. My wife and I talked about our future and what it would mean if I were to lose some of my mobility. What would happen if I couldn’t drive or walk? In one tender moment when I posed those questions to my dear wife, she answered simply and without hesitation, “Then I will take care of you.”
We were grateful we hadn’t waited to serve the Lord as full-time missionaries and that we had been able to serve while our health was still good. We were also grateful that we had moved into a smaller home with no stairs on the main floor, mostly hard floors rather than carpet, and grab bars near all the toilets and showers. We felt that the Lord had known we would need such a home someday and had prepared a way so that when we needed it, it was ready.
During the next few months, I spent a lot of time at home and had plenty of time to think. I grieved for the loss of the person I thought I would be in my later years. I grieved for the future that my wife and I had previously envisioned. I endured days of discouragement. I prayed a lot as my symptoms grew worse. My need to find positive ways of coping increased.
Then the Lord provided an unexpected source of support. My wife and I were called to be our ward’s welfare and self-reliance specialists. As part of our calling, we facilitated a group meeting on emotional resilience. I had not thought about needing the class personally. However, by the end of the first meeting, I thought, “Wow! This is for me!” We talked about avoiding negative thought patterns, being positive, controlling our feelings. It gave me some practical tools that, over time, helped me—and my wife as well—to develop a healthy attitude toward my disease.
I remember thinking one day, “If I was going to pick a disease for me, this would be the one.” Because at this point it doesn’t shorten my life, but it forces me to submit to the will of God. It’s given me no choice but to accept that, and that’s been a blessing. I am calmer, more at peace. I had always lived too much in the future, concerned about what the next chapter of my life would be. Parkinson’s disease has helped me to be content to live in the present, to do the good that I can do now. Gradually, I have learned to submit myself and my future to the Lord more completely and without reservation.
I studied scriptures that talk about growing from trials.1 I re-read talks and articles by Elder Neal A. Maxwell (1926–2004) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.2 I remembered an address in which Elder Richard G. Scott (1928–2015) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles counseled us in times of trial not to ask, “Why do I have to suffer this?” but rather “What am I to learn from this experience?”3
Throughout this process, I have found a level of peace, joy, and contentment that had previously eluded me. I’ve come to see that death and passing through the veil is just another “transfer” on my journey along the covenant path. It is part of God’s plan of happiness.
I made a small sign on my computer and put it on the wall of my home office where I see it every day. It says, “Be Good. Do Good. Be Content. Relax and Trust the Lord.”
Today, at this point in the progression of the disease, I carry on a fairly normal life. I can still drive a car. We were recently called as temple workers. There are things I can do and things that I can’t. I walk with a cane when I leave the house. I get emotional over small things but also have become more sensitive to the needs of others. I’m not sure how my future will unfold, but I have the reassurance that whatever happens, the Lord will help me to endure it well and to find joy. It’s been a good tutoring for me, and I don’t want to miss the lesson.4

Want to Help Michelle?
Michelle has inspired a lot of people with her story. And they in turn have wanted to help her. You see, sometimes Michelle has medical treatments for her unique health challenges that require her to take a break from indexing for a time.
A few people got together and decided to form an indexing group on FamilySearch so they can help index for Michelle to make up for those times when she’s unable. Anyone can join. If you want to help out, head over to FamilySearch.org and then look up the “Michelle Thornton” indexing group.

I used to home teach a brother, who, when I was first assigned to him, was totally inactive in the Church. Despite our differences, we really connected and over time became great friends. Visiting with him, I learned a lot about how people who have strayed from the teachings of the Church think. He used to say things like:

"I still have my hand on the iron rod. I may have pulled a few screws loose and bent it a little, but I still have a hold of it."

Another of my favorites was: "I keep the fence in sight."

He felt safe, but in reality, he was not.

...

The brother I told you about earlier who joked about "keeping the fence in sight" was assigned to me to be home taught. He was a self-described "hippy hermit." His ceiling was painted with psychedelic colors and patterns. He burned incense, smoked, drank, dabbled in drugs, swore, and seemed totally disinterested in the Church. But I liked him. I confess that I was not entirely comfortable at first because this was not a world I was very accustomed to, but at the same time, I sensed a real goodness deep inside of him. He was honest and genuine. I home taught him for over three years when he began to say things like "someday I am going to surprise you and show up at church." And eventually, he did surprise me.

He started listening to some audio tapes that were made of his grandfather talking about growing up in the Church settlements of Mexico. When he told me about it, I was able to find some historical information about that time and place that I then shared with him. The spirit of Elijah began to work on him and his "heart turned to his fathers." Many months later, he asked me to ordain him an Elder in the Melchizedek Priesthood. Later still, he asked if I would travel to St. George Utah and go with him through the temple -- because that is the temple where his ancestors had traveled to receive their temple blessings. He loved the temple and would later go through five or six sessions each time he attended.

These experiences are among the spiritual highlights of my life. I felt God's love not only for him, but for me as we shared these sacred experiences together. When I reflect on how I felt during these experiences, I remember no darkness at all -- only light.

These three youth from the Edmond Third Ward in Stillwater, Oklahoma, are “crazy-good” wake boarders. Last summer Rachel Orgill, Ashley Merkley, and Isaac Cordy entered the Oklahoma City River Wakeboarding tournament. Just to let everyone know who they were and what they stood for, they made a big poster and individual T-shirts declaring themselves the “Stormin’ Mormons.”
They had a great time competing on Saturday, and to their surprise, each one made the tournament finals in their divisions. The problem was, the finals were on Sunday. Without hesitation, all three notified the event coordinators that they would not be competing in the finals because they would be observing the Sabbath. The coordinators were surprised the youth were willing to pay to enter the tournament and now were giving up sure prizes and placements as finalists.
The three friends had the opportunity to explain their decision to many in the crowd and to the other competitors, who overwhelmingly thought it was “cool” that their convictions were more important to them than winning.