Gospel Story Finder

A true story from the USA.
Gracie finished her last bite of pancakes, put her dishes in the sink, and grabbed her backpack.
“Time for family prayer,” Dad said.
Everyone knelt in the living room. Gracie’s twin brother, George, said the prayer. “Please help us have a good day at school,” he said. “And please bless Mom that she will be OK. Please bless the doctors to know how to help her.”
Gracie’s mom had a brain tumor. She would need to have surgery. The doctors were hopeful that everything would be OK, but they couldn’t know for sure.
After the prayer, Mom gave everyone a hug. “I’m going to the doctor again today. Hopefully we can get more answers.”
What if Mom dies and I can’t talk to her anymore? Gracie wondered. She was so scared. She couldn’t imagine not being able to hug Mom or see her after school.
That day, Gracie went to class, recess, and lunch just like normal. But she kept thinking about Mom. When she felt scared, she thought about her favorite Primary song. Families can be together forever through Heavenly Father’s plan, she sang in her mind.
When they got home from school, Gracie and George ran inside and gave Mom a big hug. “How was your appointment?” Gracie asked.
“It went well,” said Mom. “We still don’t know a lot. I have a few more appointments next week before the surgery.”
Gracie was glad to see her mom. But she was still worried.
A few days later, the doorbell rang. When Mom opened the door, Gracie heard singing.
She stood with Mom on the doorstep and looked out at a crowd of family friends from church and school. They were singing Primary songs. “We’ve been thinking of you and wanted to bring some comfort,” one of them said. Then they started singing again.
George came to the door too. He turned to Gracie. “Let’s sing with them!”
Gracie and George grabbed their coats and ran outside to join the others. They sang as loud as they could:
Gracie saw Mom wipe away tears. Her little sister, Rosie, clung to Mom’s legs and listened too.
A peaceful feeling spread over Gracie. She was still worried about Mom. But she knew that Jesus Christ loved them. He was a God of miracles. And somehow, Gracie knew things would be OK.
Gracie’s mom had the surgery and is doing well. Their family is grateful that because of Heavenly Father’s perfect plan, they can find peace and hope no matter what.

My grandparents started dating before Grandpa joined the Church. Grandma told him she was unavailable on Sundays and several evenings during the week. At first he considered dating somebody else since she was so busy. Eventually she explained, “I’m a member of a church you’ve never heard of.”
Grandpa immediately replied, “Oh do you mean The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints?” Grandma was dumbfounded—she thought he had been stalking her! But he had heard of the Church before.
At 19, Grandpa was asked to help with the census because of his penmanship. When he asked a woman for her religion she said, “I’m a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” It was the longest denomination name he had ever heard. The name stuck with him. When Grandma told him that she belonged to a church he most likely didn’t know, he already had the name in his memory.
In his talks, Grandpa shared his thoughts and feelings and the struggles he faced investigating the Church. He had to humble himself to pray about joining the Church. He received an answer and acted on it.
It is amazing to share Grandpa’s firsthand accounts with my wife and children. They’ve never met him, but his words are reaching them 30 years after his death.

I was born in Port Moresby, Papua, New Guinea, the third child in my family. Ours was a poor family. During my childhood, Christmas and birthdays were not the happy occasions that many children remember as they grow up. In fact, it was at these times that we were the most unhappy, knowing and seeing how other children were given gifts and treats.
We were poor for the most part because my father spent his small paycheck drinking on weekends. We were always hungry. When my mother tried to make Father see how we were suffering, he would become violently angry and would strike her until she was hurt and sobbing. How hard she tried to defend us children and care for us!
Christmases came and went. It was always the same for us. There was no money for presents and goodies. My sister and I would wake early on Christmas morning to the shouts of excitement from the neighborhood children who had found Christmas presents waiting for them.
Sometimes we children went off to the city dump to find something we could use or play with to comfort us. I longed for something new and shiny, a special gift meant just for me at Christmas.
One Sunday, my little sister returned home from a new church where she had gone with her cousin several times. She brought with her a missionary couple to meet the family. Elder and Sister Call were so very kind and humble. They began to teach us about the gospel of Jesus Christ and his true church. After hearing the discussions and praying much for the Spirit to guide us, we agreed to be baptized.
Our lives began to change spiritually, but financially we were still poor. So my childish longing for a real Christmas with presents meant just for me never materialized.
However, because of our conversion, my father changed and gave up his bad habits. He quit drinking, smoking, and leaving his family hungry on weekends. I was so happy and wanted to tell my father that I loved him, but I was afraid to. I also wished my father would express his love for me. I never heard him say how he felt about me as I was growing up.
Then I was called to serve in the Micronesia Guam Mission. While I was in the mission field, I received a letter from my father. He said, “Son, you have made me a very happy man serving on your mission.” At the end of the letter, he wrote, “Son, I love you. Keep up the good work of the Lord.”
My eyes filled with tears of joy. It was the first time he had ever said those words to me. I replied to my father’s letter and returned a gift to him. I said, “Dad, I love you too!”
Now I am home from my mission, and my father has served as branch president. As I look back, I realize that I have been blessed with some very special gifts—not the ones that children open at Christmastime, but gifts that are forever and can be cherished each day of my life.

I remember how the shrill scream of a siren excited me whenever an ambulance went rushing by. Oh, how I wanted to be at the wheel of that machine, rushing to the aid of sick and injured people. As I grew older, my dream became a reality. I took first-aid classes, human science classes, and finally, an emergency medical technician training course that would make my dream come true.
I was just out of high school when I got my first job as an ambulance attendant for a private ambulance company. I had many opportunities open up for me at such a young age, and I progressed rapidly in my knowledge of emergency treatments. I learned many things about life that most people never learn until later. I was also exposed to many trials and temptations that I’d never come across before.
I worked in a non-Mormon atmosphere. It was the type of atmosphere that my church leaders always had warned me about, but at the time, I thought I wouldn’t have to worry about it. My work began conflicting with my church attendance. I started asking myself questions and often wondered about my future. I could see myself progressing into higher fields of medicine, and it seemed that nothing stood in my way. Then, on my nineteenth birthday, I made my way to California and applied to a hospital paramedic program. I was accepted, and could enter in the fall semester. I knew then that was exactly what I wanted to do.
Suddenly all thoughts of going on a mission left my mind. It was as if the decision not to go had already been made. Oh, sure, I always told my friends and family that I would go. I even told my employer I was planning on a mission. But all of that seemed unimportant now. All I could see was personal satisfaction, and I didn’t care what kind of spiritual development I’d miss. The voice of the prophet still echoed in my mind, “Every young man is to fulfill a mission.” But the thought always came back, “In two years’ time, look how far you could be as a paramedic.”
I didn’t know what to do! I knew deep down in my heart that a mission was the right thing, but I was blinded by worldly greed. The decision to go or not to go was constantly on my mind. I thought about it from the time I got up until the time I went to bed at night. Because we worked 24-hour shifts, I had lots of time to think.
One night right after I had gone to bed, I was awakened by the ring of the telephone. The highway patrol was calling for an ambulance to respond to a car-truck accident on the freeway, and soon I was at the scene of a two-car accident. A small car had run into the back of a large truck loaded with wooden fence posts. The badly mangled car had two occupants—a young couple that had recently been married. The husband, who was driving, had been killed instantly. His wife was critically injured. We worked desperately to save the slowly fading life of that beautiful nineteen-year-old woman. I thought to myself, How could something so terrible happen to this fine couple and totally destroy their future plans and happiness?
We rushed her to the hospital, where a team of highly trained doctors and nurses were waiting. Soon a helicopter arrived to transport her to a hospital in Salt Lake City, where she could receive special treatment for a severe head injury.
After I calmed down from the shock of such a terrible accident, I remembered talking to the highway patrolman who would be responsible for notifying the next of kin. I’ll never forget the solemn look on his face, and the glaze of tears in his eyes as he drove away. I thought to myself, What a horrible assignment! What if they were my parents being notified? Then another thought came to my mind: What will be the look on my face when I give an accounting to the Savior of the time I spent here in mortality?
The night air was chilled with a late frost. As I gazed up into the night, I noticed how clear and calm the sky looked. Tears ran freely down my cheeks, and I found myself pleading with the Lord for that young woman’s life. At that moment, when my heart actually seemed to swell painfully with love and compassion, I finally began to understand. Doctors and nurses and paramedics were wonderful, but they could only treat the body. They couldn’t heal the deeper wounds, the ones that would keep us from going home to our Father. Only one Physician could do that, and I was denying myself the chance to be his helper. I made a decision. I would do all I could to further the work of the Master Healer. I would serve a mission!
The days came and went. Finally, one month later, I learned my prayers had been answered. The young woman was released from the hospital, completely recovered. How I thanked our Eternal Father for that answer. But now came the biggest step of all, my mission.
As I prayed and prepared myself, the Spirit confirmed the fact that I was to serve my Heavenly Father in the mission field. I’ll never forget that calm, sweet feeling that came as the words fell from the lips of our stake patriarch, when he pronounced that blessing upon me. And I’ll never forget that same feeling as I opened the letter from a prophet of God, calling me to serve in the Pennsylvania Harrisburg Mission. Even as I served in Pennsylvania, as a representative of Jesus Christ, I had that special calm feeling, knowing that I had made the right choice.
Before I left for the mission field, I thought there was no feeling in the world like knowing someone was walking again because of your help, but I was wrong. There is no greater feeling in the world than knowing you helped someone in their search for true joy and happiness found in the gospel of Jesus Christ.
I know this church is true with all my heart! I know that God lives, that he hears and answers prayers. I know that Jesus is the Christ, and that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is his church on the earth. My mission sealed those facts in my heart in a way no ambulance run ever could.

When I turned 18, a lot of members in my ward and stake began telling me I should go on a mission. Even though I had always planned to serve a mission, I didn’t like all the pressure.
Soon I began my first year of college. As a result of hard work, I won a scholarship that allowed me to study in Germany. Germany was very different from my native country, Mexico, but I became immersed in the culture and learned the language quickly.
Eventually I was offered a permanent job at a prestigious European company. Serving a mission suddenly felt more like a duty than a desire. I thought that I could take this job and enjoy worldly success.
One snowy day I traveled to the city of Heidelberg with my friend Melanie. After several hours, the highway was covered with snow, and we became sleepy. We were driving around 65 miles (105 km) per hour when we passed through a red light and hit a bus.
When I woke up, I saw the police, the ambulance, and Melanie, who was crying. The car was destroyed, and I was still in it. Tears came to my eyes when I realized how blessed we were to be alive. I began praying and thanking my Heavenly Father for letting us survive, but a new fear came to me—I was not able to move my legs.
On our way to the hospital, I heard the nurses saying that if I had a spinal injury, I probably wouldn’t be able to walk again. I prayed with all my heart to my Heavenly Father. First I thanked Him again for letting me survive, realizing that my life was not my own. Then I promised Him, “If my legs are OK and I can walk, I will serve a mission with all my heart and mind.”
After four hours at the hospital, my diagnosis was promising: I would walk again. I no longer had any hesitation about serving a mission. Instead I felt a strong desire to share my testimony that God lives, that He is our Father in Heaven, and that He can perform miracles in our lives.
After that experience I decided not to take the job I’d been offered. I knew that my time and everything I have belong to the Lord. Why shouldn’t I give Him a little of that time and serve Him for two years?
After graduating, I was called to serve in Frankfurt, Germany. During my mission I testified of my Heavenly Father. I know that He lives, that He is my Father, and that He protects me. He has given me my life, and it will always belong to Him.

“Ski down here to the right, Ethan. Remember to keep your ski tips together and the backs apart, and follow me.”
Ethan was nervous. He watched as his ski teacher put his ski tips together and snowplowed a short way down the hill. This was only his second day of skiing, and even though he loved the snow and the mountains, he was still a little scared of skiing. As he looked at the path his teacher had taken, he thought it looked too steep.
“I think I’d rather go this way,” Ethan called to his teacher, pointing off to his left. There was another path that looked much easier. It was flat and straight as far as he could see.
But his teacher shook his head.
“You don’t want to go that way,” he called to Ethan. “It gets a lot harder than it is right there—you just can’t see it.” He pointed again to the path on the right and said, “Go right where I went,” he said. “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”
Ethan faced a tough decision. The path his teacher wanted him to take looked scary. The other path seemed like a better choice. Should he listen to his teacher or do what he wanted to do?
He really wanted to take his own path, but Ethan decided to follow his teacher’s advice. His palms were sweaty inside his mittens as he pushed his skis out into the triangle shape his teacher had taught him and started down the path on the right.
It was easier than he thought! He skied quickly down to where his teacher was waiting.
“Good job, Ethan!” his teacher said as Ethan skied over to him. “I’m glad you trusted me. Do you see that?” he said, pointing up the hill.
Ethan looked at the very steep, rocky, scary-looking hill his teacher was pointing to. “Yes,” he answered.
“That’s the path you wanted to go down,” his teacher replied.
Ethan gulped. His teacher was right—the path on the right was much better.
“Are you glad you listened to me?” his teacher asked.
“Definitely!” Ethan replied.
As they skied down the rest of the hill, Ethan trusted his teacher without worrying. He knew his teacher would tell him the right way to go.
Heading home after his ski lesson, Ethan thought a lot about how scary it would have been if he hadn’t trusted his teacher and hadn’t taken the safer path. His mom was always quoting a scripture about trusting in the Lord instead of in our own understanding. Maybe that was because Heavenly Father’s plan was the safest path—even if it did seem harder at first.
Ethan could remember a few times when he had wanted to do something that seemed easier or more fun than keeping Heavenly Father’s commandments. He decided that from now on he would trust Heavenly Father and follow His path. He felt a warm feeling inside because he knew he would be safe.

Emily the story detective kept searching. She heard stories about her mom, who was born in a house instead of a hospital, and about Tony the pony that Uncle Josh used to ride—when he could stay on! Tony liked to scrape Josh off by running under a tree branch. She found out about the time when Great-Grandad Ernest went to the store to get fresh brown bread. The baker wrapped the bread in paper so that Grandad could carry it home. On the way, he got so hungry that he poked a little hole in the crust and ate the soft insides. “Mother was sure surprised to have hollow bread,” Grandad said, chuckling.

May I digress a moment to relate an amusing experience we had a few years ago. Sister Nelson and I had the privilege of taking President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) and his wife to an activity. Our five-year-old son was with us. I asked him to tell President Kimball about the picture our son had on the wall of his bedroom. He dutifully replied, “It’s the temple.”
President Kimball, with his global perspective, asked, “Which temple?”
That completely stumped our little boy, with his limited perspective. He thought a minute and then replied, “Why, the marriage temple, of course.” President Kimball gave a broad smile.

In December of 2019, while serving in Baltimore, Thierry and Nathalie were invited to meet with President Russell M. Nelson. The meeting was virtual. The prophet asked mission president Mutombo what the most important thing was they had learned on their mission. President Mutombo answered, “trying to follow the Savior’s footsteps every day.”

President Nelson then extended a call to Thierry to serve as a General Authority Seventy. Thierry was 43 years old. For the next nearly 27 years, he will devote his life to the Savior’s work. On Saturday afternoon, April 4, 2020, while watching general conference as a family in Baltimore, Maryland, the six Mutombo children learned of their father’s new assignment. Walking in the Savior’s footsteps would continue for many years.

Long years ago, when I served as a bishop, I learned that Mary Watson, a member of my ward, was a patient in the county hospital. When I went to visit her, I discovered her in a large room with so many beds that it was difficult to single her out. As I identified her bed and approached her, I said, “Hello, Mary.”
She replied, “Hello, Bishop.”
I noticed that a patient in the bed next to Mary Watson covered her face with the bedsheet.
I gave Mary a blessing, shook her hand, and said good-bye, but I could not leave her side. It was as though an unseen hand were resting on my shoulder, and I felt within my soul that I was hearing these words: “Go over to the next bed, where the little lady covered her face when you came in.” I did so. I have learned in my life never to postpone responding to a prompting.
I gently tapped the other patient on her shoulder and carefully pulled back the sheet that had covered her face. Lo and behold, she, too, was a member of my ward. I had not known she was a patient there. Her name was Kathleen McKee. When her eyes met mine, she exclaimed through her tears, “Oh, Bishop, when you entered that door, I felt you had come to see me and bless me in response to my prayers. I was rejoicing inside to think that you knew I was here. When you stopped at the other bed, my heart sank, and I knew that you had not come to see me.”
I said to Kathleen McKee: “It does not matter that I didn’t know that you were here. It is important, however, that our Heavenly Father knew and that you had prayed for a priesthood blessing. It was He who prompted me to come to you now.”
A blessing was given, a prayer was answered. I bestowed a kiss on her forehead and left the hospital with gratitude in my heart for the promptings of the Spirit. It was the last time I saw Kathleen McKee alive.

One day my companion and I were teaching a couple, and we told them that the Father and the Son had appeared to Joseph Smith in answer to his prayer. The man said that no one could see God. Immediately the alarm on my watch went off, letting us know that we needed to head home. We left their home that day without answering that statement.
The next day I read a scripture in the Bible that says, “If there be a prophet among you, I the Lord will make myself known unto him in a vision” (Numbers 12:6). I knew this scripture would help this brother believe.
The time of the next visit arrived, and we spoke about prophets. I showed him this scripture, and his countenance changed. His eyes filled with tears, and he said, “This is true. There are people prepared to see God.” Later we taught him about Book of Mormon prophets who have seen God, and he knew it was true.
Elder Diaz, 25, Mexico Mérida Mission

Two years passed, and changing family circumstances forced me into a profound sadness. My father had left Poland in search of work so our family was divided. I felt desperate, searching for God. My prayers became more sincere, pleading with Heavenly Father to help me find His presence.

One day my mother told me, “Some person by the name of Garling asked for you. I told him to call back next week.” She knew that it was a missionary and wasn’t interested in the message, so she didn’t feel it necessary to respond quickly.

That Friday night I again heard knocking at the door. This time I gave the emissaries a sincere welcome and a smile. “You are welcome in my home, but you need to know I will never become a Mormon,” I told them.

These elders taught me anyway—every Friday afternoon for six months. Loads of my mom’s cookies and thousands of questions later, all my deepest questions began to be answered. It seemed like every time the missionaries visited, another piece of life’s puzzle came together. Intrigued, I finally did what the elders had asked me to do: pray and ask Heavenly Father if their words and the Book of Mormon were true. They assured me that God answers prayers.

As I prayed and studied the scriptures more deeply, these doctrines became sweet to my soul. For months I hesitated, feeling that I needed solid evidence, needed to know everything about the gospel before joining this Church. Finally, the words of the Savior in John 20:29 spoke to my soul: “Blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed.” I decided to be baptized.

My parents required that I wait until I was an adult to be baptized, but the time waiting helped in my progression and knowledge of the gospel. Sadly, as my baptism date drew closer, I lost confidence in my answer. I got into the things of the world and became fearful that my choice to be baptized wouldn’t be accepted by loved ones.
Little by little, mistakes and decisions made me deaf to the whisperings of the Spirit. My scriptures ended up in the deepest part of my trunk and I even stopped praying.

My life was not turning out—too many tears and disappointments. It was hard to understand why my family had to undergo so many trials. Right before my last year of high school, my parents had to leave Poland. The prospect of relocating again caused me anguish. Finally, I again knelt in prayer, truly meaning my words: “Heavenly Father, Thy will be done, not mine.”

That prayer marked the beginning of my return to the Church, which I knew would require repentance. That Sunday, for the first time in nearly a year, I attended sacrament meeting. The next day I again decided to be baptized.

The Lord helped me through my difficult process of returning to what I had once known to be true. I now define those difficult circumstances as some of the sweetest blessings from God. He did not forget me. He listened to my prayers and waited for me to recognize His answer. He helped me through all the suffering I endured, strengthening and protecting me. In the process I gained greater clarity on the meaning of Christ’s divine mission and His Atonement.

I was baptized in April 2011. My plane has taken off since—I now reside in France, which means more changes. However, I am now grateful to Him for my life and for the circumstances that He had me live through. Because of my testimony of the Atonement of Jesus Christ, I now understand that I am not alone, no matter what destinations life brings next. I don’t know if my plane will take off again. The only thing I do know is that my new destination is that straight path that leads to life eternal with Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ.

Tonight I would like to talk to him and tell him some things he may not know about the priesthood he holds. I’d also like to visit with his friends—the members of his deacons quorum—and, in fact, with all of the young men—the deacons, teachers, and priests—throughout the Church. I’d like to visit with you about this very special Aaronic Priesthood authority you now have.
I recognize that to some of you this special authority may not mean so much right now. Others of you may really be excited about it, but you may not know why you feel as you do. And some few of you may not yet have qualified yourselves to receive it.
Now, to my grandson for a moment: Darren, I remember a few weeks ago when we visited your ward sacrament meeting in Arizona. I was seated on the stand and you were assigned to pass the sacrament to those seated there. You passed the bread and the water to me in remembrance of the Savior. In your office as an Aaronic Priesthood bearer, you actually helped me rededicate my life to keeping the commandments of God. Even though I am your grandfather and a Melchizedek Priesthood holder, you used your authority to help me renew my covenants. I was thrilled with that experience we shared together. As I saw the reserved smile on your face I sort of thought you had figured it to be pretty neat too. Did you know that I’ve passed the sacrament during sacred times to the Presidency of the Church, as well as to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and the other General Authorities? Isn’t it terrific that you and I use this same priesthood authority to help each other make these covenants with the Lord?
Sacrament time is a very special time, and you are now an important part of it. You are different now than you used to be. The Lord has said he is going to share with you some of his power and authority to help others through life. He is going to let you do some sacred things now that you couldn’t do before. Let me tell you some more of them.
If you live worthy of it, as a teacher you will be able to go into the homes of some of the members of your ward with the responsibility to help them understand some of the gospel teachings. You don’t need to be afraid; you’ll be surprised and thrilled when you feel the inspiration to say certain things to your families. One of our home teachers is an Aaronic Priesthood bearer. He comes every month. Three weeks ago he prayed with us and left a blessing on our home. We all felt good.

What I didn’t mention during this address was that I knew this promise was true because I was in the midst of completing this very same assignment myself for the first time.
On December 1, 2016, I obtained a new set of scriptures and proceeded to begin the same assignment that I would later extend to young adults in January. When I finished the assignment six weeks later, I had looked up and marked more than 2,200 citations from the four books of scripture.1
For me, to be able to accomplish this assignment was just thrilling!
Something I found to be most insightful was that the Savior was telling us about Himself through these various periods of time—Old Testament, New Testament, the Restoration period, and our day. In all books of scripture, the story is the same and the Storyteller is the same.
I have devoted much of my 93 years to learning about the Savior, but rare are the occasions when I have been able to learn as much as I did over this six-week study period. In fact, I learned so much about Him from this study that I am planning to share much of it in other upcoming addresses that I am currently preparing.2
Upon beginning this assignment, I didn’t expect that this study would help me to receive a new testimony of the divinity of the work of Joseph Smith—but it did! The revelations recorded by Joseph Smith and the insights found in the Bible are amazingly consistent. It was so enlightening for me to see this in my study.
Joseph Smith wouldn’t have possibly had time to correlate and cross-reference with the Bible at the rapid rate at which he was translating the Book of Mormon—but it’s all here!
So not only do I now have a greater testimony of the Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, but I also have a reaffirmation of my absolute conviction that the system Joseph Smith had for translating the Book of Mormon was a gift from God.
I know how you feel. I thought the same thing of myself—that there’s no way I can have time to do all of this. I needed to remind myself that a comment like this is not a faith-promoted comment. A faith-promoted comment would be “I know I don’t have time for this, but I’m going to make time for it. And I’ll fulfill it with what time I have.”
Each of us who takes this challenge will finish in our own time frames. For me, much of the joy of this came from getting it all done in just six weeks. This intense study over a relatively short period of time allowed me to appreciate the complementary nature of the learnings to be found in the Old Testament, the Book of Mormon, the New Testament, and the Doctrine and Covenants.
To those of you who feel you don’t have time, if you will make a sacrifice, you will be well rewarded and very, very grateful for the change of perspective, increased knowledge, and improved depth of your conversion. I know this is true because I have seen the same rewards in my own life.

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 subject in the family relations class I taught in my ward Sunday School was how to communicate with teenagers. When I asked the class members—all parents of teenagers—to identify the most important issues or concerns they had in dealing with young people, the question at the top of the list was: “How can I get my son or daughter to talk with me? I know they are facing problems that worry and trouble them, but when I ask them ‘What is the matter?’ they respond with something like ‘Nothing,’ or ‘You wouldn’t understand.’”
These parents also identified a wide range of other issues and concerns, but the consensus was, “If we could just talk over all these things, we might be able to help our teenagers cope better with the problems in their world.”
Is there anything parents can do to improve communication with their teenagers?
First, parents need to remember that children rarely initiate discussions on matters of concern, then ask for parental advice. I asked the parents in my class how many of them, as teenagers, had gone to their parents to talk over problems. Most had never done it. I asked why. The answers: “I was afraid it would embarrass me and my parents,” “I didn’t think they would understand,” and “They would have told me that I worried too much, or that everything was going to turn out just fine.”
One father reported that he had asked his teenage son, “Why don’t you ever come to me to talk over your problems?”
The son had answered, “Did you ever talk things over with your dad?”
“No,” the man replied.
His son said: “Things aren’t so different now.”
If teens don’t come to discuss serious things with parents, what can parents do? A common strategy is to try to get the young people to “open up.” This usually results in questions they interpret as prying. “Why are you so moody?”
“What happened at school today?” “Why did you get such a poor grade on that test?”
A better approach is to find an opportunity to share your own experiences with your son or daughter. The young people may not talk much, but they will usually listen with interest if you talk about how you felt when you failed an exam, or didn’t get a date, or disliked your math teacher, or didn’t get invited to a party. Just talk and share; let them know about you and learn what they will from your experiences.
Two mothers in my class tried this, with somewhat different results. One knew her son was upset because he had not done as well as he wanted on a school project and in a musical program for which he had to play an instrument. She found occasion to talk about how miserable she had been when she got a bad grade, feeling down on herself; but she had finally accepted the fact that she could not always be perfect. She told him she knew that he probably got some of his perfectionism from her, and she hoped he would be able to deal with mistakes better than she had. Her son listened with interest and afterward said, “Thanks, Mom, that was a real help.”
The other mother said she had tried to talk with her son about some of her experiences as a teenager and had told him she had felt that sometimes her parents and teachers didn’t understand what she was going through. When she finished, her son asked, “Is that all?” She said yes, and he left without another word.
She interpreted his response as rejection and felt that what she had said to him had no impact at all. My own feeling is that he may have been impressed more than she knew; at least he listened all the way through and did not become defensive, as often happened when she asked him questions or lectured.

One of the persons who signed agreements (guarantees) for me when I began in the insurance business, was Brother Horace S. Eldredge, and as each bond required two signatures, he suggested that I ask Captain William H. Hooper to sign with him. I explained that I knew the Captain only slightly, and feared he would not care to become one of the persons liable in case of my failure. Brother Eldredge thought otherwise, so I solicited the Captain’s signature, but he promptly declined. I walked direct to my office and had been there but one or two minutes when a messenger from the Deseret National Bank, where I had just left the Captain, called and said that Mr. Hooper desired to see me. My answer was that I had just seen the Captain and our conversation had been of such a character that I had no particular desire for another interview. The messenger insisted that he had seen the Captain since I had, and I finally concluded: therefore, to go see him again.

On reaching the bank, the Captain said: “Young man, give me those bonds.” He signed them, and then said, “When you were here a few moments ago, I did not know you. I have met you on the street now and then for a number of years, and have spoken to you, but really did not know you. After you went out, I asked who you were, and when I learned that you were a son of Jedediah M. Grant I sent for you at once. It gives me pleasure to sign your bonds. I would almost be willing to sign a bond for a son of Brother Jedediah if I knew I would have to pay it. In this case, however, I have no fears of having to do that.”

He related a number of incidents about my father, which showed the Captain’s love for, and confidence in, him. What the Captain told me, filled my heart with gratitude to God for having given to me such a father, and Captain Hooper’s remarks have never been forgotten. They impressed me with a strong desire to so live and labor that my children would be benefited, even after I have passed away from this life, by the record which I shall have made.

The action of Captain Hooper profoundly impressed me with the benefits derived from having a good father. Although my father died when I was a babe nine days old, twenty years after his death I was reaping the benefits of his honesty and faithful labors. The incident referred to above happened twenty-three years ago. Many, many blessings have since come to me because of the honesty and integrity of my father.

Another missionary couple was called and assigned to a branch in the United States that was so inactive that it was about to be disbanded. The Church had a very poor image in the area.

The elder was a member of the Lions Club (a civic service organization) in his hometown, had served as a city administrator, and was an expert gardener. So he and his wife got acquainted with the local Lions Club, and the elder was invited to speak at one of their regular meetings. He talked about who they were and why they were there, and he also mentioned their need for a building in which the branch members could meet.

After the meeting, those present introduced themselves and offered to help in any way they could. One of them featured the missionaries in his newspaper which had 15,000 subscribers. They were also invited to participate in a television interview and were able to answer many questions about the Church and about genealogy.

Because the elder was an expert gardener, he used that skill to help him activate inactive members and to interest nonmembers in the gospel message. He obtained the use of a couple of acres of ground, prepared it for planting, and then invited people to come and participate. Everyone who joined in was assigned a piece of land, and he showed them how to raise a garden. They all had a good harvest and said it was one of the best gardens they had ever seen in that area. Many doors were opened to the missionaries. Today that branch is thriving, and the members are well on their way to having their own meetinghouse.

For reasons known only to himself, my husband left our marriage with little or no explanation to his family and friends. Perhaps in an attempt to make sense of his decisions, many of my in-laws made assumptions without asking me any questions. They came to some incorrect conclusions. Usually I heard their comments indirectly, which was frustrating because I had no opportunity to respond with the truth. These comments hurt me, and I often felt my integrity was in question. I wondered if these people I had been so close to had ever really known me.
Two years after my divorce, I was told that one of my former spouse’s relatives had made a comment implying I was unforgiving. The remark began to fester inside me. I wanted to clear my name; I wanted to tell that man just how wrong he was. As I counseled with my bishop on the matter, I realized that what was important was that Heavenly Father and I both knew the truth about my relationship with my former husband and my contribution to the marriage. I suddenly felt at peace. I knew I could talk to this man about his comment if I chose to, but I no longer felt it mattered much. Because of the Atonement I could let the hurt feelings go. I did not need to suffer because of this man’s—or anyone’s—opinion of me.

During the time of the project, the family also managed to net a new member—both for the family and for the Church. A young man named Rich, who was without family, came to spend the Christmas holidays at Ryan’s invitation. The Munnses shared not only their Christmas presents but the gospel. Rich joined the Church through baptism, and the Munns family through legal adoption. As he helped with the nursery project to help pay for his own future mission, he was also putting down his own roots.
Rich Munns is now serving in the Washington Tacoma Mission, enjoying not only his mission but the knowledge that he financed it with his own labor.