Gospel Story Finder

They had seen it all before. The Ahuna kids of Kaneohe, Hawaii, would be sitting at a ward dinner minding their own business when someone would stand up and inform the audience there would be some impromptu entertainment.

The four oldest, Joseph, Ruth, David, and Angela, would look up, utensils in hand. They were pretty sure what was coming next.

"We’d like to invite the Ahunas to come forward and do their Polynesian dances," the man holding the microphone would say.

With knowing looks at each other, the four would set down their forks, their rice would get cold, and outside to the car they’d go, pulling out grass skirts and hoops and all the other things they needed for their show.

Dad had struck again.

"He’d just volunteer us," says Ruth of her father, Joseph. "We never knew when we were going to perform. But my dad thought the more we shared our talents, the more we’d grow."

Ruth and her brothers and sister would step on stage, they’d spend about an hour putting on their song-and-dance show, and in the end they’d bring down the house.

And there was Dad, smiling as big as ever.

Illustration by Julia Yellow
It was a calm day at my job as a volunteer firefighter, so I decided to read the Book of Mormon. When one of my co-workers saw me reading, he asked if I knew how we could put on the armor of God in modern times. As we were talking, the alarm sounded. There was a fire in a nearby store.
We quickly put on our firefighting gear and went straight there. The flames were huge, and as we approached the store, something exploded in our direction. The flames engulfed us. The explosion disoriented my co-worker and me for a few seconds. But thanks to our equipment and protective clothing, we suffered no injury.
When we returned to the station after fighting the fire, I asked my co-worker if he remembered his question about the armor of God. He said he did, and I explained that the armor of God is like our protective firefighting gear. We must always wear it so we can withstand the powerful attacks of the adversary. If we keep the commandments, we will be blessed with the protective power of the armor of God, and the Holy Ghost will be our guide.
Fernando de la Rosa Marrón, Mexico

The pathway program (now called PathwayConnect) is an inspired program brought by Church leaders to help members be blessed by the Lord in so many ways for their future. When PathwayConnect was introduced for the first time in Bangalore, I was interested to join and learn.
I work in a nationalized bank in India, and a Brigham Young University certificate is not acceptable. My Church leaders encouraged me to join, so I obeyed the leaders‘ word. I was accepted by pathway and joined others for the first ever semester to begin in India.
I can see the Lord’s hand guiding me in the pathway program. As I review my own personal change and spiritual growth that occurred during my pathway study program, I recognize that It was impossible for me to do it alone. With heaven’s aid, I was able to complete it.
During this wonderful program, my wife gave birth to a beautiful girl baby. It was a very challenging situation to balance work, travel, my Church calling, and fulfilling family responsibilities. With all these things, studying pathway was an added pressure, but I strongly felt the Lord’s hand in it. My secular education, spiritual help, and revelations were received from Him from time to time. —Ebenezer Paul Magendran, Bengaluru India

This next experience was shared by a member of the Church whose father took his life after an extended period of illness. The references to recent discoveries by medical science are enlightening.
“I will never forget telephoning home that morning in 1977 and having a police lieutenant answer, informing me of my father’s suicide. My father was a sweet, kind man who never intentionally hurt anyone. He always thought his body was a temple. Yet something had become wrong with Dad’s body, and he had been a very sick man.
“Then, in 1980, I experienced a terrible physical change in myself that gave me some insight into my father’s state of mind during the weeks preceding his death. I was diagnosed as having hyperthyroidism. My body went through many of the traumas that Dad experienced. I spent a four-month period without sleep. Sleeping pills gave no relief. If I did fall asleep, I awoke soon after, soaked in perspiration. Many of the symptoms were emotional ones. I was frightened and suffered a deep depression. For eighteen months I received medication, and the disease was finally brought under control. I am thankful that I had a doctor who could help me.
“Living through my experience helped me to understand my father’s death better. I spent hours doing research and found that little information on hyperthyroidism could be found before 1979. Thyroid disease can be hereditary, and since my experience, we have discovered it in two of my cousins on my father’s side. I also found an article by a doctor who wondered how many people have been in mental institutions with chemical imbalances that could have been corrected.
“Maybe Dad had this same disease. With everything I’ve studied, I choose to think he did. It helps me deal with his death. For a man who took such good care of himself to fail so fast and become ill so quickly makes me believe he had an undiscovered disease.
“Dad believed in the Lord with all his heart and had a strong, solid testimony. His cause of death may have spoiled his entrance into the spirit world, but not the beautiful life he had led for fifty years.
“I know my Heavenly Father loves me and watches over me and gives me the peace I now enjoy.”

One of the residents, Roy, was 46 when Sophia was age two. Because Roy’s mental age was the same as Sophia’s, they became best friends. Brother Ralph describes how they played together and followed each other around. “Now Sophia is eight, and Roy looks up to her as his big sister. Mentally he’s still a two-year-old.” It’s touching to watch them walk hand in hand down the lane to the lambing fields. When it’s spring, Sophia takes Roy to see the newborn lambs, an outing they both cherish.

It was December 23rd. The mall was dead after an exhausting day. My legs ached after walking the aisles all day at the music store where I worked.
My heart was warmed by the true spirit of Christmas evidenced by the light and laughter dancing in people’s eyes as they searched for gifts to show their love to those they adore.
I had also discovered the joy of giving. My only problem was I didn’t like shopping. Why was I working at the mall, then? The employee’s discount helped.
After the metal gate was partway down, signaling that we were closed, I got out the CDs I had selected for my brother and sister. I had tucked away the exact amount. It was the last of my money until my next paycheck. The money, $26 and change, was all I had and all I needed.
Just as I was about to complete my transaction, a little girl walked in. She was so little she had no need to duck under the metal gate.
I put down my CDs and asked, “Can I help you?”
She explained that her little brother wanted a popular cartoon video for Christmas, but all the stores were sold out.
“Well,” I said, “you’re in luck.”
Her face brightened as she exclaimed, “You mean you have one?”
It was always a fulfilling thing for me to take the customer right to the item they had been searching for. Straight to the video we went.
She saw it and ran toward it before I had a chance to get it. “This is the one I’ve looked for!” Carefully she turned the video over, looking at the cartoon figures on the back. It was then that I saw the price: $24.99.
Her eyes also migrated to the price sticker. “Is this enough?” she innocently asked, holding out her mittened hand that clasped some very crumpled dollar bills and change.
I took the warm dollars and smoothed them out slowly, hoping that they would multiply themselves somehow.
“Is it enough?” she asked again. I didn’t say anything. How could I tell her?
Large tears welled up in her eyes as she realized why I kept silent. Discouragement washed over her face. With a sigh she asked, “What can I buy with this much?”
In the store there was no gift that six dollars and some change could buy—trust me; I looked. The only option, if she was to have her video, was for me to help her pay for it. Yet, if I did that, I would then be in her predicament: no presents with only six dollars and change.
A scripture came to my mind: “Knowest thou the condescension of God?” (1 Nephi 11:16). In my mind, I envisioned Christ descending from His heavenly throne, causing the tears of our shortcomings to be turned to tears of joy through His Atonement and payment of our deficit.
For the little girl it may have only been a moment, but for me that time of contemplation was a turning point. I saw a level of the glad tidings of great joy that I had left undiscovered.
I got down on my knees, at her level, and said, “You know, there is a way your brother can have his movie.”
A huge smile banished all sorrow from her face. “How?” she asked.
I took the clean, crisp $20 bill from my wallet and handed it to her. Through my new perception, I happily and thankfully watched her skip to the counter. Already on my knees, I took the opportunity to thank Heavenly Father for my Savior and His gift, which He taught me affectionately that night.
Can you put a price on a great understanding of the Atonement? I think not. I still lacked gifts for my siblings, except for some cheap demo CDs the music store was giving away. Though they weren’t what I had originally wanted to give, what they represented to me made them the best presents I’ve ever given.

Frank Calio is a band teacher now. He lives in Idaho. When I called him to let him know I’d written his story he laughed. “Call the story ‘Fish Sticks,’” he said. “The kids at my school call me Old Fish Sticks. Every year I play a little at our school recital. I’m better than I was in college, but I still make mistakes and the kids get a good laugh. But they all know in my class it’s okay to mess up while they’re learning. I just want them to play music and to try hard. That’s all.”

I grew up in a small town and participated in a 4-H club that each year required me to purchase a lamb or a calf to raise. I had to maintain a workbook to keep track of what I paid for feed, veterinarian bills, and anything else I needed. The most memorable lamb I had was when I was nine. I bought a Southdown-cross lamb from a farmer and took good care of it. My dad helped me, and the county agent met with members of the club periodically to sign off in our workbooks. I learned how to raise and show that lamb, including shearing it so it would look its best.
I ended up taking it to The Dalles, Oregon, livestock show, and I won the grand-champion prize. The lamb weighed 92 pounds, and I received $2.50 per pound for my efforts. For a nine-year-old, that was a lot of money. And because of the records I had kept, I knew how much I earned after costs. For me, that was good training. For the last 20 years, I have been self-employed. I’ve paid my tithing on the same basis I learned when I was nine.

Realizing that adversity can include suffering, destitution, affliction, calamity, or disaster, how can we best use it as an opportunity for personal growth and development? For one answer, let me share with you an incident in the life of a special friend, which he tells in his own words at my request. I find his experience a powerful sermon.
“It was the third Saturday in January a few years ago. I was excited to attend a seminar that morning. It was an agricultural seminar at the Brigham Young University, where I had been attending school. I had been home from my Honolulu Hawaii Mission six months and was going through all the adjustments of a returned missionary. The challenge of family, girls, school, and the fact that there were twenty-five thousand other students who were bright and aggressive—some with plenty of money; others, like myself, who were pinching every nickel—didn’t make things easier.
“I landed a job running a hydraulic press earlier that week in a machine shop. We made seals for hydraulic equipment. Following the seminar that morning, I went to work. Kimball, my roommate and former missionary companion who had gone to work earlier that morning, instructed me in how to make a new seal. After approximately twenty minutes, one of the smallest seals stuck on the face of the plate. I struggled to get it off with my left hand. As I turned back to give it my full attention and use my right hand, the machine closed on my left hand, causing a horrible noise as it crushed my hand just below the wrist. After what seemed an eternity, the huge press finally opened. My first thought when looking at my hand was ‘What a mess!’ Then that inner voice which I had come to know, love, and appreciate, whispered, ‘Jerry, you won’t have your hand.’
“Four hours of surgery followed. The first thing I remember hearing was the surgeon’s voice in the recovery room.
“‘Jerry,’ he said, ‘Can you hear me?’
“‘Yes,’ I said.
“‘We had to take your hand off.’
“The following four days were filled with tears, aches, friends, cards, letters, and family. Concerned people made it so much easier for me, especially Kimball. He let my parents and others close to me know and helped in every way he could. Never did I have to ask for one thing. It was already done. By his example and support, he gave me courage to face this new challenge.
“The days in the hospital were filled with painful, sleepless hours and nights. Those nights gave me an opportunity to think about the Savior and Joseph Smith as I had never done before. I reviewed the Prophet Joseph’s life from everything I had learned. He faced physical, emotional, and spiritual trial upon trial. How I marveled at his well-won victories. At this difficult time I promised the Lord I would try to accept all of my challenges as the Prophet Joseph Smith had accepted his.
“Of course, during the first night there were thoughts of ‘Why me? Was it something in my past? What have I done to deserve this?’ Then I thought, ‘No more rodeo, football, or skiing,’ and I wondered what type of a woman would want a one-handed husband. I hadn’t developed a good self-image or a great deal of self-esteem, so these thoughts magnified my concerns.
“Mom came to school and drove me home for the weekend. One thing she said that made me again appreciate her greatness was, ‘Jerry, if I could only give you my left hand and make it work, I would.’
“Sunday was fast Sunday. As I stood favoring my bandaged, shortened arm, I thanked everyone for their thoughts, prayers, and cards. I realized as never before that good friends and faithful family members make challenges less difficult.
“After the testimony meeting, an admired friend gave me a special blessing. So many questions were answered during his blessing. He told me this accident was not punishment for anything I had done but, rather, an opportunity to help me become a better person and to amplify those particular traits which needed to be developed. He shared the thought that this challenge could make me more understanding of people, problems, and life. As I look back now, each point of his blessing and encouragement has helped in a very fulfilling way.
“One of my greatest fears was the constant thought of how people would accept me. Would they be afraid of me, question my ability, or write me off before I could prove myself? Would girls turn down dates because I was different? Would it make them feel uncomfortable to be seen with me?
“I had dated several girls since my mission but had only dated Julie a couple of times. When I awoke the day following the operation in the hospital, she was there with other friends. I asked everyone else to leave the room, and I then proceeded to give her what I thought was the perfect speech. I told her that they had to take my hand off. If she felt embarrassed or ashamed to be with me or be seen with me on future dates, she need not feel obligated to continue in any future courtship. At that moment I could see fire in her eyes. She let me know in no uncertain terms that she was not there out of pity or duty, but only because she cared for me. She indicated she would help me but never feel sorry for me. Six months later we were married in the Salt Lake Temple.
“There were many job interviews, prejudices, and rejections of employment; but with continued encouragement, the Lord blessed us in innumerable ways. When our first little girl, Bracken, arrived, it left us short of money to go to school. So after a major decision, we went into business, which proved to be another learning experience. After a couple of years—with many reverses—I was able to find a career in personnel management, which not only fulfilled my goals but also answered my prayers.
“Today as I look back, I see the challenge of adversity as something upon which to build. Of course, I cannot say the experience was pleasant; it was horrible. However, I hope I have used this adversity in a positive way. When I see others in trouble, in pain, when real adversity is knocking, I have an opportunity not only to feel something of what they feel but perhaps I can also help them because they can see that I have challenges of my own.”

A bright flash lit the night sky as the Russian built surface-to-air missile roared from its launcher. In a few seconds, it passed through the cloud cover over Hanoi and raced toward its rendezvous.
It was December 20, 1972. Two days earlier President Nixon had ordered full-scale bombing of Hanoi, hoping to force North Vietnam to negotiate an end to the war.
Captain Deverl Johnson, a pilot of one of the eighty B-52s sent on this mission, leaned forward intently in his seat.
This was the time in the flight when they were most vulnerable to enemy missiles. A few minutes earlier, as they approached Hanoi, they had evaded seven other missiles. Hanoi was living up to its reputation as one of the most heavily defended antiaircraft areas in the world. Now, as they approached their designated target, there could be no dodging. The mission came first.
The missile electronically locked onto the radar signal aimed at the plane by the enemy radar crew on the ground.
The crew released its bombs on target. Johnson began a turn to their out-bound heading back to their base in Guam.
The missile exploded when it was only a fraction of a second from the plane. It was not a direct hit, but its bright ball of fire hurled thousands of tiny pieces of metal through the plane.
In the cockpit, glass gauges on the instrument panel blew out as the shrapnel burst through the plane’s shell.
Fire warning lights flashed on two of the engines. Instinctively, Johnson quickly shut down the two engines.
Suddenly the lights went out, and they were flying in darkness, uncertain how much longer the plane would continue to fly.
Much later, when he was telling about this experience to a group of young people at a fireside, he was asked if he was praying then. “No, not then. It was all I could do to fly the plane. But before every flight, even now, I take several minutes for prayer. Of course, I have to hope that my Father in heaven has a good memory because some of our flights last up to 14 hours.”
In checking with the crew, he found out that his navigator had been wounded with shrapnel, but not seriously.
“See if you can get us some electrical power,” Johnson asked his copilot. The electrical monitoring equipment was on the copilot’s side of the cockpit.
Johnson retrieved a flashlight and shone it on the instrument panel. Most of that complicated set of flight instruments were useless to them without electricity. He had four flight instruments that didn’t need power to operate: a compass, an altimeter, a vertical velocity indicator, and an air speed indicator.
Two hundred fifteen knots was the optimum speed. Any slower than that and the wings would give more drag and less lift.
“I can’t get anything,” the copilot finally said, finishing his inspection of the plane’s electrical system. The electricity for the plane was generated by air-driven generators. Apparently the shrapnel had punctured the air lines.
The air speed indicator slowly approached the critical speed—217, 216, 215, 214. Johnson edged the plane downward in order to pick up speed. They were descending at 200 feet per minute.
Johnson felt his legs getting cold. The outside air, at 40 degrees below zero, whistled noisily into the plane through each tiny hole made by the shrapnel.
“We’re heading west,” the navigator announced. “We need to be heading south. At this rate we’re going to wind up in China.”
Johnson tried to turn the plane, but it wouldn’t respond. “I can’t turn it. We’ve got a fuel imbalance on one wing.” Without electrical power, he was flying the plane with his own strength. To make matters worse, the missile’s shrapnel had made enough holes in the fuel tanks on the left side that the resulting weight imbalance made it impossible to maneuver the plane.
The air speed indicator took another drop as the plane again slowed down. Johnson nosed the plane into a steeper descent—500 feet per minute. Four of the eight engines were working.
“At least we’ve got a full moon,” he thought, looking down on the cloud cover. The tops of some of the more rugged mountains jutted above the layer of clouds below.
His copilot retrieved a hand-held, battery-operated radio from a survival pack and tried to make radio contact.
Once more the plane slowed down. They were flying on three engines. Johnson steepened their rate of descent to 1000 feet per minute.
“If we can just make it to Thailand, we’ll be all right. It’s a friendly country, and everyone who’s made it back there has been picked up safely.”
The magic line was the Mekong River. Johnson and his copilot looked out, trying to spot the river by the light of the full moon.
“My legs are so cold,” he thought. Reaching down to feel them, he touched a strange, thick wetness. He shined a flashlight on his hand and saw blood. It was the first time that he knew he had been hit.
A panic began to gnaw at him—the fear that he was approaching his death—but years of training would not allow the panic to gain control.
A few minutes later another engine flamed out. They were flying on two engines and descending with a vertical velocity of 1500 feet per minute.
He checked the altimeter—20,000 feet. “How high are the mountains around here?” he asked his navigator.
“Five thousand feet.”
“Then we’ve got ten minutes to get out of here.”
Ahead of them, Johnson could see a rugged range of mountains about five minutes from them. “That’s the safest place to bail out,” he thought, “where the enemy soldiers will have a harder time reaching us than the rescue helicopters will.”
Each of the crew prepared for the ejection sequence. Each man went in his turn. The three crew members downstairs went first.
Finally it was the copilot’s turn. A hatch above him blew open, and suddenly he disappeared, seat and all, into the emptiness overhead.
Captain Johnson was the only one in the plane. As he let go of the controls so that he could begin the ejection procedure, the plane, now dangerously out of balance, lurched over on the heavy side.
He grabbed the controls and leveled the wings. “What if my ejection mechanism won’t work?” he thought desperately. The normal procedure in that case was to get to the openings left by the downward ejection of either the navigator or radar navigator, but with the plane out of balance, it would go into a steep dive the minute he let go. He wouldn’t be able to reach the bomb bay before the plane would crash.
His mind raced as he tried to come up with a plan in case his seat would not eject him. Finally he decided that he would try to crawl out the hole where the copilot had ejected.
The plans were not necessary. He pulled the ejection seat trigger. The hatch above him blew out. Automatically the control column stowed forward. An instant later he was hurled out of the open hatch as an explosive charge fired the pilot’s seat.
Out of the plane the seat, with him still strapped in it, tumbled about wildly. A second later, on schedule, the seat automatically separated from him.
He was spinning over and over in the air.
“The chute, what about the chute?” The panic, which he had controlled before, now consumed his mind as he realized the parachute should have automatically opened.
He felt an overwhelming depression. His thoughts were of his small family; he wouldn’t be able to be a father to his two children.
Seconds flew by as he plummeted to earth.
Suddenly he remembered there was a manual parachute release. He gained control over the panic.
He tried to pull his arms into his side to reach the manual release. Because of his rapid tumbling, the centrifugal force made it difficult to move his arms.
Finally he managed to move his arm to the handle. He pulled it and felt a beautiful jerk as the parachute opened.
He looked around. A few seconds later he saw a huge fireball light the sky as his plane crashed into a mountain peak a few miles from him.
Then he was falling through the cloud cover. Still disoriented and in shock, he was unaware of the ground coming up rapidly.
He slammed into the ground. Still in the darkness of night, he felt himself sliding down a steep slope.
Suddenly he stopped. His parachute had snagged on some bushes.
He spent the remainder of the night hanging upside down from his parachute straps. He was afraid to move until he found out where he was.
When it became light enough, he could see that he was about two-thirds of the way up a steep canyon about a thousand feet deep.
Cautiously he released one parachute strap and used the other strap to slowly pull himself hand over hand up the 15 feet to a more level area where he could rest.
Eventually the gray of night gave way to the colors of day.
Looking around he saw that a bright orange life raft had inflated when he hit the ground. He stood up and walked over to the raft. Taking his knife, he punctured it, then hid it in the bushes where it would be less likely to be spotted by the enemy. He also hid his parachute.
Looking around to make sure he was not leaving any signs of his presence to be picked up by the enemy, he limped into the deep vegetation and hid.
Alone in a jungle in Laos behind enemy lines is probably as good as any place to review your life. They had landed in Laos, about four miles from the North Vietnam-Laos border.
Rescue efforts depended upon radio. When the parachute opened, a radio tone was automatically broadcast on guard channel, which all U.S. aircraft monitored. Planes flying over the area picked up the beacons and notified rescue units.
The rescue helicopters decided to wait for the clouds to be burned off by the sun before attempting the rescue.
After five hours of waiting, he heard the helicopters coming in. He talked to the helicopter pilot by radio until he was nearby. Then he fired a flare to pinpoint his position.
The helicopter maneuvered until it was directly overhead and then lowered a rope. As the rotor wash from the helicopter blew the branches of trees madly about, Johnson had to fight to maintain his footing on the steep hillside.
Finally he managed to climb into the seat at the end of the rope. He gave a thumbs up signal and was reeled up into the helicopter.
The crew members were strung out over a four-mile area, and all but one were rescued. The missing man was never heard from again. It still isn’t known what became of him.
Johnson spent a week in the hospital in Thailand. He had lost quite a bit of blood from the shrapnel wounds in his legs. When he left the hospital, he was flown home for convalescent leave.
His night in enemy territory was over.
He has since been promoted to major and currently serves as a B-52 flight instructor at Ellsworth AFB in Rapid City, South Dakota. In the Church he serves as seventies group leader in his ward and stake.
In a recent sacrament meeting in his ward, he told about this experience.
“Sometimes people ask me what it was like to go through an experience like that.
“We were in a fairly secure environment in Guam. One day we were told about a hazardous mission we were to perform. We were warned that the enemy would do everything in his power to stop us. We were assured that if we had learned the information contained in our Air Force manuals, it would be a help to us in succeeding.
“Even if we had trouble, we were told that there was help for us. There was a way to be rescued. It involved sending someone in for us, someone who would be willing to put his own safety on the line for us.
“Above all, we were assured that there would be communication channels open for us to ask for help when we needed it.
“Doesn’t this sound a little familiar? To me it sounds like the same experience that every one of us here on the earth is going through.
“We also once lived in a reasonably safe environment. We call it the premortal existence. We were told about a dangerous mission and about the obstacles that the enemy would put in our way.
“The manuals that can help us to succeed here on earth are the scriptures. If we read them and learn the lessons contained in them, they will help us to accomplish our mission on earth.
“Even if we get into trouble, there is still hope for us. The Savior put his safety on the line to come to the earth to provide a way for us to be rescued.
“There are also communication channels here on the earth for us. If we pray, God will hear us and provide help. We also have a prophet on earth who can give us help and guidance.”

As years passed and my life experiences piled up, I began to see evidence of God’s love for everyone around me, but I did not always expect or recognize His love for myself. I questioned my worth as an individual.
In July of 2008, I felt strongly impressed to leave a job that was no longer good for me. I didn’t have another job, but it was early in my career and options seemed limitless. Also, because of my prompting, I was confident that Heavenly Father would help me find the right opportunity.
Weeks later, the world entered a financial crisis and unemployment rates soared. As weeks and then months passed, I began to panic. I heard heartbreaking stories of fathers and mothers losing their jobs. I was single and had no one depending on me, so I wondered if others needed and deserved employment more than me.
One night, I took my concerns to the Lord. I told Him I needed a job to take care of myself but that I could see there were families in greater need. It was as if I were imagining everyone getting in line to receive the blessings of the Lord, and because I was single, I was expected to allow families to cut in front of me.
As I prayed, the Spirit taught me that this was not what was expected of me. There is no line to get to our Heavenly Father. He invites all of His children to come to Him because “all are alike unto [Him]” (2 Nephi 26:33). The thought came very clearly to my mind that Heavenly Father is not limited by any circumstance of our world and that He will help every individual who comes to Him and Jesus Christ.
In that moment, I was reminded that there is no class system among Heavenly Father’s children. He blesses us as we choose to make and keep covenants with Him and Jesus Christ. We are all loved and important to Him, regardless of where we are on the covenant path.
Shortly after that, I was offered a job that put my career on the path it is on now.

Adrian Juchau says, “The competition is so much fun because everyone shows so much support. I was a little afraid to compete, until I actually tried it and found out that people are really having a good time.” In fact, Adrian had so much fun that he decided he would be at every event whether he was participating or not.
“At the Ping-Pong tournament, I was more nervous than the people who were playing,” he admits.
Because the competition takes place over a three-week period, the youth spend a lot of time together, working out, rehearsing, competing, and just “hanging out” waiting for the next event.
“My friends and I wanted to enter the group vocal-music competition. We just couldn’t find a song we liked, so we spent five hours looking together. Finally, we turned on the radio and heard the perfect song. We joked that it must be true inspiration,” says Mia Maid Marlowe Ziegler.
Cheering on your competitors in other wards, spending five hours to find the perfect piece of music, or traveling back and forth to different church buildings for three weeks every year, might seem like a lot of effort, and it is. But in Glendale, most everyone says, “It’s all worth it.”
When the contest finally ends for another year, ribbons and medals are given in every competition, with separate categories for boys and girls. Nearly everyone wins at least one award, and lots of people have several. Yet no one really seems to notice. Everyone has won other things that seem much more important: friendship built on a gospel foundation, love for fellow competitors, and an appreciation for the talents of others.
“I wanted to learn how to play the piano blindfolded, and now I can,” says Adrian, a skill that, by all accounts, is a new one in the stake.
“I would never have learned how to build that cabinet without the competition as a goal,” adds Jared Hall.
Paul Jenkins competed with a good friend. “There aren’t any bad feelings,” he says. “We both knew we’d do well, and we did.”
Those sentiments are echoed by many other participants and can be seen in the way everyone gets along throughout the various competitions. On performing and fine arts night, while one girl is being congratulated on an exemplary piano performance, another is being cheered up by friends who realize she wanted to do better on her vocal solo. Boys good-naturedly tease each other about who is going to win the art competition, but then wish each other good luck. On track-and-field day, several girls laugh about deciding to cross the finish line together in a race so they can all come in first. The list goes on.
And although the competition has been going on for longer than any of these participants can remember, no one really remembers past winners.
Jessica Forsberg, a 16-year-old whose talents shine brightest on track-and-field events, sums it up best. Still breathless from a race, she says, “When you cross that finish line, even if you didn’t win, you feel like you’ve succeeded. Winning isn’t everything; it’s just for fun.”
Competing just for fun? Focusing on people rather than achievements? Using competition as an incentive to excel without hurting people’s feelings? Some might think those things are too good to be true. But if you live in the Glendale Arizona Stake, it’s just how things are done.
Here are some tips, gathered from youth and leaders in Glendale, on holding your own competition:
Start small. The Glendale competition started as a one-afternoon event and has grown over a period of 25 years. Give your stake the time to find out what works and what is comfortable for everyone.
Plan, plan, plan. Try to anticipate every challenge in planning your event. Think of all the things you will need to buy, borrow, or reserve to make your competition a success.
Ask for help. In Glendale, the stake’s Young Adult ward helps with judging and organizational tasks. Ask for help from people outside the stake’s youth program if you think you will need more manpower.
Encourage everyone to participate. The Glendale youth agree that meeting and making new friends is what makes the competition fun. Encourage everyone to come—even if it’s just to watch.
What do the Glendale youth do at their competition? Here’s a complete list:
Volleyball
Bike Racing
Racquetball
Table Tennis
Public Speaking
Chess
Scholastics
Sewing—Quilts
Sewing—Clothes
Sewing—Other
Cooking—Bread and Rolls
Cooking—Desserts
Cooking—Main Dish
Painting/Drawing
Crafts
Woodworking
Track and Field—Various Events
Performing Arts—Vocal Music
Performing Arts—Instrumental Music
Performing Arts—Dance

Trevor’s absence from football didn’t help his skills, and didn’t help his size either. “I left at about 235 pounds, and I came back at about 207,” he said. “Most guys have their mothers greeting them at the airport saying, ‘Great to have you back, son,’ but all my mother said was ‘Oh Trevor, you look so thin.’ To be honest with you, the coaches were worried. But when I got home, I lifted a lot of weights and ate everything that was slower than me—lots of pizza and chocolate chip cookies. It helps to have a mom who has a master’s degree in nutrition.”

When I was six years old, I struggled to learn to read. My teacher said I would need to repeat the first grade. My father was concerned when he heard this. So every night after dinner, he practiced reading with me. Dad made a game out of it so I would stay interested. Soon I was recognizing words when I saw them, and Dad rewarded me with praise and encouragement. We spent hours reading together, and my ability improved.
My teacher decided to promote me to the second grade. Dad was proud of me. He was always interested in my progress at school. For Christmas he bought me books he knew I would enjoy.
A few months after I completed high school, my father died of cancer. He didn’t live to see me graduate from college or medical school, but he did live long enough to know that I had learned to love to read. That gave him great satisfaction.

“All I ever hear anymore is Jessica this and Jessica that or ‘Isn’t that great about your sister?’”
Kris Douglas was irritated with all the attention her twin sister, Jessica, was receiving. It seemed like everyone was delighted to support Jessica in her ballet, but when Kris had a big tennis match, no one showed up to watch. It hurt her feelings. At dinner that night, when Jessica was excited about her upcoming solo dance performance, Kris stomped out saying that she would not be able to make it to the performance. She said she had a meeting with the tennis team she couldn’t postpone.
This scenario is set in the first of ten episodes in a new seminary videotape called “I Will Lead You.” The series involves the members of the fictitious Douglas family as they learn to apply the teachings in the Doctrine and Covenants in dealing with the difficulties in their lives. At the end of the first episode, Kris realized that she was feeling jealousy but that Jessica was her sister and needed her attention and support at the performance.
Kris left her meeting and hurried to the auditorium in time to wish her sister good luck before the curtain rose.

I was born in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. As the eldest of eight children, I left school when I was twelve years old to help support my family. After I grew up and married, my wife, Ruda, encouraged me to go back to school, and I earned my high school diploma and a bachelor’s degree in accounting.
But even when I was the financial management comptroller for Petrobras, the biggest oil company in Brazil, and I had the respect of my colleagues, I was not satisfied. I did not feel happy; I felt confused. I thought that the solution would be religion.
I had a wonderful wife and two children, Marcus and Marisa. (Later, another son and daughter, Raphael and Aline, were born.) We were not involved in a church at that time, and I told my wife that it would be best for us and for our children to find one. Many of my friends at work were members of different religions, so my family and I went to five or six different churches.
One day we found on our door a card with a picture of Jesus Christ on one side and the name The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on the other. I had never heard of this Church, and I asked my assistant at work, “What is this Church?”
He said, “Boss, don’t go there.”
But Heavenly Father had heard my family’s prayers. A few days later, in April of 1972, the missionaries knocked at our door. That changed our lives. We received all the discussions in one night. I asked and asked and asked questions. The missionaries answered my questions about the Church and about God and Jesus Christ and about the standing of black people in the Church. Elder Steve Richards and Elder Thomas McIntire were two very special missionaries, and they were prepared for that moment. All my questions were answered. The Holy Ghost testified all the time that these things were true.
When they left my house, I was completely changed. With reverence and respect, my family attended the meetings and activities, but we postponed baptism because of fear of negative reactions from our extended families.
Then we attended a district conference in Rio de Janeiro. The inspired messages from the pulpit prepared our hearts for an unforgettable moment. The counselor in the mission presidency bore his testimony about Jesus Christ, after which the congregation sang “I Need Thee Every Hour.” In that moment, the Holy Ghost reconfirmed the truthfulness of the things we already knew: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was the Lord’s kingdom on earth, the road back to the celestial mansion of our Eternal Father.
My wife and I and Marcus—Marisa wasn’t old enough yet—were baptized July 2, 1972, the most important date in our lives. All the members of our branch attended our baptisms.
I had respect for all the doctrine and for the priesthood. Because I couldn’t hold the priesthood at that time, people often asked me, “What about the priesthood?” I told them that I had complete acceptance of it.
During the cornerstone laying of the São Paulo Temple, President Spencer W. Kimball motioned for me to come to him. I looked around to see whom he was looking at. He repeated the gesture. I did not understand. Elder James E. Faust looked at me and mouthed, “Come here. He wants to talk to you.” I went. President Kimball shook my hand and took hold of my arm and said, “Brother, what is necessary for you is faithfulness. Remain faithful, and you will enjoy all the blessings of the Church.”
A little more than a year later, in June 1978, we received a telephone call from a friend in Salt Lake City, Utah, telling us that President Kimball had announced the revelation* that all worthy males could hold the priesthood. I shall not forget that day. My wife cried. I cried. We knelt to thank our Heavenly Father. After that, the phone rang many, many times. Friends from the United States and Brazil called us.
The hand of the Lord is resting upon Brazil. It is a special country. We have many challenges, but we have a very special people who are friendly and accepting of the missionaries’ message.

It must be difficult living in a place where one of life’s greatest temptations is going to the beach on Sunday. “Sunday always has the perfect beach weather,” says Tami Ting Mei Lim of Honolulu, Hawaii, “but I want to be in church.”
Tami loves her home state and takes advantage of every opportunity to spread the gospel across it. She once spent two hours driving through the busy streets of Honolulu telling her captive driving instructor about the gospel. “I was surprised about the interest he took in hearing about Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon,” she said.
Tami also takes advantage of opportunities to keep her state beautiful. She’s constantly involved in community cleanup projects. Her experience in church and school leadership positions helps her with this. All this, and an avid interest in violin and piano music? No wonder it’s tempting to think of relaxing at the beach.

Seeing an excellent financial opportunity, Elder Ribeiro and his wife Zélia and their small children, planned to move to the USA. Ready to leave, after prayer, fasting and attending the temple the answer was “no”. Months later, Elder Ribeiro was called as a stake president. His wife comforted the family by saying, “We were born to serve the Lord.”
During the following years, they experienced very significant financial losses. The hardships seemed to have no end. The heavens were silent. Days followed months, and months followed years. Faith was tested to the limits. Elder Ribeiro‘s testimony was forged. He learned to know his Saviour in a deeper way. He said: “The Son of God trusted in His Father, endured all things, and endured well until the end. We‘ll never know when the end will come. We can only bear it and bear it well”.

In Fiji, I know of a faithful wife who waited eight long years for her husband to join the Church. Eight years of attending church alone while her husband remained uninterested and hesitant. Yet she did not withdraw. She did not resent. She served.
When the wife received her patriarchal blessing, she was promised that if she remained true and faithful, a day would come when her husband would take her to the temple to be sealed for time and all eternity. Over eight years and 24 missionaries later, the husband was baptized and the couple was sealed in the house of the Lord.
To be clearer, I should say my wife, Anita, and I were sealed in the house of the Lord. My only regret? I wish I had been baptized sooner. In fact, Elder Quentin L. Cook, who spoke before me today, extended the call for me to serve as stake president while he was serving as Area President.

While visiting the country of Sierra Leone in West Africa, I participated in a meeting conducted by a stake Primary leader. Mariama led with such love, grace, and confidence that it was easy to assume she had long been a member of the Church. Mariama, however, was a fairly recent convert.
Her younger sister joined the Church and invited Mariama to attend a Church class with her. Mariama was deeply impressed by the message. The lesson was on the law of chastity. She asked to have the missionaries teach her more and soon received a testimony of the Prophet Joseph Smith. She was baptized in 2014, and her daughter was baptized last month. Imagine, the two fundamental teachings that led to Mariama’s conversion were the law of chastity and the Prophet Joseph Smith, two points the world often sees as irrelevant, outdated, or inconvenient. But Mariama testified that she was like a moth attracted to the light. She said, “When I found the gospel, I found myself.” She discovered her worth through divine principles. Her value as a daughter of God was revealed to her through the Holy Ghost.
Now let’s meet the Singh sisters from India. Renu, on the far right, the first of five sisters to join the Church, shared these thoughts:
“Before I started investigating the Church, I didn’t really feel that I was very special. I was just one of many people, and my society and culture didn’t really teach me that I had any value as an individual. When I learned the gospel and learned that I was a daughter of our Heavenly Father, it changed me. Suddenly I felt so special—God had actually created me and had created my soul and my life with value and purpose.
“Before I had the gospel in my life, I was always trying to prove to others that I was someone special. But when I learned the truth, that I am a daughter of God, I didn’t have to prove anything to anyone. I knew that I was special. … Don’t ever think that you are nothing.”
President Thomas S. Monson said it perfectly when he quoted these words: “The worth of a soul is its capacity to become as God.”
I was recently blessed to meet another young woman who understands this same truth. Her name is Taiana. I met her at Primary Children’s Hospital in Salt Lake City. Taiana was a junior in high school when she was diagnosed with cancer. She fought a brave battle for 18 months before passing away a few short weeks ago. Taiana was full of light and love. She was known for her contagious smile and her trademark “double thumbs-up.” When others asked, “Why you, Taiana?” her response was, “Why not me?” Taiana sought to become like her Savior, whom she so dearly loved. During our visits, I learned that Taiana understood her divine worth. Knowing she was a daughter of God gave her peace and courage to face her overwhelming trial in the positive way she did.