Gospel Story Finder

A dance festival? Sharon Leo had never seen one, and now she was invited to dance in one. An 18-year-old nonmember living in central Utah, Sharon had been around Mormons all of her life. Now her friend Jolynne Taylor of the Orem Utah Sharon West Stake had asked Sharon to join her in a five-stake dance festival to be held in the huge BYU Marriott Center. With reservations, Sharon accepted.
Rehearsals occupied every Saturday morning for months as Sharon found herself practicing square dances, Swiss polkas, disco numbers, karate exercise numbers, Greek line dances, the English quadrille (her specialty), and many other dances with 600 fathers, mothers, young adults, teens, and children. Sharon’s view of Mormonism began to expand as she met new people and made more friends.
Then there were the costumes to make. While Sharon was struggling to put in a zipper and get the length of her costume correct, others were also sewing like crazy—especially where whole families were participating. Cori Dawn Anderson, 16, of the Orem Utah Sharon West Stake, commented, “Being in the dance festival as a whole family was a good experience. The hardest part was making seven costumes in two weeks. But with everyone helping and sewing in their spare time, we got them all finished. It was really fun, and despite all the work, it was worth it.”
During the rush of practices and costume making, Sharon Leo began taking the missionary discussions.
As Sharon grew in gospel knowledge, the dance festival grew in excitement among its participants. Bishops, stake presidents, and high council members responded to the challenge to participate and brought their families. Miriam Abegg, 17, whose father is on the Orem Utah West Central Stake high council said, “The dance festival was fantastic! I could feel that the Lord’s Spirit was with us during our performance. And I enjoyed practicing with my family. It helped me to see my dad with different eyes—enjoying square dancing, whirling and throwing my mom and us kids up in the air. It was a lot of work, but it was fun to work with other people—especially my own family, even though my brother did drop me on the floor one time.”
Suddenly, the day of the performance was upon them. Between the final dress rehearsal and the evening performance, a different kind of event took place. As Sharon’s family, friends, missionaries, teachers, and priesthood administrators watched, she stepped into the waters of baptism. Jolynne’s father performed the baptism, and Jolynne’s mother accompanied the hymns at the piano. Jolynne waited at the top of the baptismal steps to be the first to give Sharon a hug of fellowship. It was a beautiful time of reverence in an exciting day.
The dance performance filled the evening. As the Marriott Center darkened, over 6,000 spectators sat waiting. Suddenly the lights flashed on to the throb of Star Wars music, and the youth and their families began a spectacular show complete with bright lights, colorful costumes, and exciting dances. The dance numbers that had been such stumbling blocks—difficult to learn, difficult to find music for—suddenly were magnificent. The costumes, made mostly from donated materials, looked professional. The organization and technical details, so ragged in rehearsal, suddenly ran smoothly and professionally.
As Joycelynn Demaree, the costume chairman, remarked, “There were so many little miracles and acts of faith that took place during the putting on of the festival. It was a lot of hard work, but to see the whole thing come together was worth every minute of the thousands of hours involved.”

Mark Hansen shut his car door and looked in through the glass entryway. Kelly wasn’t there. He looked down at his watch. She had told him to pick her up at eight, and it was a quarter after now. He kicked at the step, looked up through the door again, and bit his lower lip.
She knows I don’t like places like this, he thought. I ought to leave, and then she’d have to walk home. He smiled picturing her walking the ten miles to their house. He softened—no that wouldn’t be too good. Besides, he thought, Mom would be furious.
He leaned against the glass door. It swung open. He stepped inside. The air was warm and stank of antiseptic and pine deodorant that only partially covered other smells.
He remembered the smells from when he was younger. His mother pushing him forward, he saw his grandmother’s sunken face and felt her cold skin. There had been a strong smell in her room mixed with the odors of wilting flowers and stale perfume.
He was ten then, and now he was seventeen. He pushed the memory back.
How can she stand to work here? he thought.
“Kelly,” his voice echoed in the empty halls.
“Hi, Mark,” Kelly leaned out from a door, her dark hair hanging back over her white uniform.
“You’re late.” Mark furrowed his brows and turned the corners of his mouth down, trying to look angry.
“Sorry,” she said and smiled. “How did your track meet go?” She was still leaning out of the doorway. Mark kicked at the polished floor with the toe of his shoe.
“I’m going to state.”
“That’s great. What place did you take today?”
Mark smiled. “First in the mile.”
“Not bad for a kid.” She smiled again. “Mark, I’m going to be a few more minutes. Is that okay?”
Mark took a deep breath.
“I guess,” he turned and walked toward the doors. “I’ll wait in the car.”
“Mark, why don’t you go into the lounge and talk to Jackson. I think you’ll like him. He doesn’t get many visitors.”
“All right,” Mark mumbled. He pushed open the lounge doors and walked in. The room was quiet. A window was open, and fresh cool air blew in, waving the curtains.
Mark looked around the room. He felt his throat tighten. In the far corner, near the open window, half in the light and half in the dark was a thin figure in a wheelchair. Mark had expected Jackson to be an older man, but the figure in the chair looked young. Mark moved closer.
“Hi,” he said. His throat was dry. He felt a small aching pain somewhere deep inside his chest.
Jackson reminded Mark of a string puppet that had had the strings cut. He was sitting limp in the chair, his head bowed down with his chin resting on his chest. His arms, wax-white skin stretched loose over bones, were resting on his legs. There was a lifeless quality about the form. Jackson’s hands moved slightly, shaking. Then his head moved up slowly and stopped, his eyes looking directly at Mark. His eyes were warm and brown. A smile curled on Jackson’s face.
“Hi,” the voice was weak but pleasant.
“I’m Kelly’s brother.” Mark tried to smile.
“You’re Mark, aren’t you? Kelly talks about you a lot.”
Mark nodded.
“Yeah,” he couldn’t think of anything to say. He felt empty inside. He was back again in his grandmother’s room. The smell and the sound and the sight of her dying came rushing up at him. The aching pain in his chest grew and spread to his stomach. He felt weak.
“I’ve got to go,” he said. “I just wanted to say hello.”
Jackson leaned back, resting his head against the back of his chair.
“It’s nice in here at night when the windows are open and the outside air blows in. It smells like rain tonight, like a slice of watermelon. The others, they don’t like to have the windows open when the cool air blows in. They say it’s too cold.”
Jackson closed his eyes. His chest moved up and down with his breathing.
“It’s not that I don’t like them. I do. They’re fine people, but they make me feel so old. I don’t want to feel old. Come and see me again, Mark.”
Mark nodded.
“Sure.” He looked up. “I’ve got to go now. See you.” He waved and left.
Mark stood next to his car. The air was cool. A few drops of rain fell. Mark breathed in deeply and smiled.
“It does smell like watermelon.”
“What does?” Kelly stood smiling on the steps. “I’m finished. Are you ready to go?”
Mark got into the car.
“Did you talk to Jackson?” Kelly asked.
Mark nodded.
“What’s wrong with him? He looks like a skeleton.”
“Well, it’s a muscle disease. I don’t know much about it. I guess no one does.
He’s had it all of his life. There’s no cure, and they don’t expect him to live much past 20. He’s 17 now.”
“It’s sad, isn’t it?” Mark said.
“It is, but you know he doesn’t look at it that way. He just does the best he can with what he has. He’s been places inside of himself that most people will never come close to.”
She turned her head and looked forward. Rain fell lightly on the windshield and sparkled like diamonds and rubies in the light from neon signs and street lights. She smiled again and turned back toward Mark.
“What smells like a watermelon?”
Nearly a month passed. Mark stood on the steps looking through the glass doors. He felt his heart beating hard with excitement. He felt the smooth surface of the medallion deep in the pocket of his letterman’s jacket. Gold, he thought. First place in the mile. He remembered standing highest on the three-tiered platform, the red-and-blue ribbon with the gold medallion being hung around his neck, raising his arms up in victory, the sound of the crowd cheering and the handshakes and smiles and slaps on the back.
He couldn’t wait to tell Kelly. He looked through the doors. As usual she wasn’t waiting for him. He opened the door and went in.
“Kelly.” There was no answer.
She must be in the back somewhere, he thought. I’ll go say hello to Jackson. For the past month, whenever he had gone in to get Kelly, he had stopped and waved his hand up and said hello to Jackson.
Mark pushed the door open and stepped into the lounge. Always before he had found Jackson alone. Now there were about ten people in the room, most of them old. They were all smiling. Kelly was standing next to Jackson. They were all looking at Mark, then turned and looked at Jackson.
The room was silent. Mark noticed a table with paper cups filled with punch, and there was a large cake that had “State Champion” written on it in gold letters.
Jackson was looking directly into Mark’s eyes. He smiled slightly. His claw-like hands shook and began to rise slowly. The smile faded, and Jackson’s hand rose another inch. It came halfway up to his face and dropped slightly. Mark felt the muscles in his arm twitching with the effort. He remembered running the mile that day, the sound of feet hitting the track and the sound of his own heart.
He remembered the pain in his lungs and in his legs and calves. He remembered reaching inside of himself trying to find the strength to push on the last lap. He saw and felt that reaching in Jackson’s whole effort. The arm rose above Jackson’s head. Mark knew what he was seeing was incredible. Kelly had told him Jackson couldn’t move his arms more than a couple of inches. The hand dropped suddenly. Mark felt his lungs gasp for air. The hand stopped halfway down and slowly started up again.
“Come on, Jackson,” Mark whispered.
The hand was above Jackson’s head. The arm straightened. There was sweat on Jackson’s forehead. He took a deep breath. A smile spread wide and warm on his face. His eyes sparkled.
“Hi, Mark, congratulations.” The hand fell.
There was a loud cheer. The old people were shouting and clapping. Mark’s eyes were moist. He felt the medallion in his pocket. He remembered meeting another man who had done what others said was impossible.
The man was an Olympic gold medal winner and had broken the record for the mile. Mark saw the same look of inner strength in Jackson’s eyes that he had seen in the eyes of the athlete.
Mark stood in front of Jackson. The room was silent again. Mark tried to talk and choked. He cleared his throat. He took out the gold medallion and hung the ribbon around Jackson’s neck.
“I want you to wear this,” he said.

In France, it isn’t unusual to see sleek sports cars whizzing around the streets. But it is unusual to see a large family van driving down the road—with a father, a mother, and seven children squeezed into it.
Many families in France have only one or two children. People are often surprised to learn that Bishop Michel Küsseling and his wife, Pascale, have seven.
The Küsselings live near Paris, in Gournay, a beautiful town of about six thousand people. They are members of the Torcy Ward, Paris France East Stake. There’s a row of child-sized bicycles in their driveway. In the backyard are trees to climb and a slide to play on.
There are four boys and three girls in the family. Julien (13) is a deacon who likes to swim. Jérome (12) is also a deacon; he likes to swim and to play the piano. Next come twin girls (10): Claire plays the flute and likes ballet; Laurence also plays the flute but prefers swimming to dancing. Marie (9) likes to dance and to play the piano. Christophe (6) is learning judo, and Nicolas (4) likes to play ball.
“I always wanted to have a large family, even before I was a member of the Church,” Sister Küsseling said. “I love children.”
“The most difficult time,” Bishop Küsseling laughed, “was when Marie was born, and the twins were only a year old. We suddenly had three girls nearly the same age. They became a little jealous of each other because I had three girls to hold and only two knees to hold them on!”
Large families can have lots of challenges but also lots of blessings. On the challenging side, sometimes the children need to have patience when Mom and Dad are busy with the others. And sometimes brothers and sisters tease one another.
On the positive side, there’s always somebody to play with or to work alongside. “I’ve always had lots of brothers and sisters,” says Laurence. “For me, it seems normal. It’s nice to have older children and younger children in the family. That way, we all learn from each other and help each other.”
And there are plenty of family members to share assignments for family home evening. “We try to give each child a responsibility every Monday evening,” Sister Küsseling said. “Someone leads the music; someone tries to find something for the lesson; somebody makes a treat for refreshments. They all try to participate.” Family home evening is also a time to share things the children have learned or made at church.
The twins love to go to Primary. “I learn about Jesus, about His life and what He did,” Laurence said. “And we learn about Joseph Smith. He translated the Book of Mormon and organized the Church when it was restored. I believe he was a prophet.”
The children enjoy stories from L’Étoile (now the Liahona), the Church magazine in French. They also read the scriptures together and have family prayer. And they love to sing. Laurence’s favorite song is “Love One Another.”* Claire’s favorite is “Silent Night.”† “I love Christmas,” she says, “because we remember the birth of Jesus and can all be together. That’s important to me.”
Bishop Küsseling has been a member of the Church all his life. As a young man, he served a mission in New Caledonia, an island in the South Pacific. Sister Küsseling, a counselor in the ward Primary presidency, was baptized sixteen years ago and is the only member of the Church in her family. Brother and Sister Küsseling were married in the Bern Switzerland Temple. Claire said that it’s a wonderful feeling to know that their family can be together forever.
Claire is also thankful for many other blessings that come with being a member of the Church. When she was three years old, she became extremely ill and began having seizures. “We were very frightened,” says Sister Küsseling. “Her dad gave her a blessing, and then we took her to the hospital. The next day she was well. She hasn’t had any seizures since.”
Claire can’t remember that incident, but she knows that she was healed through the power of the priesthood. She does remember another time when the priesthood was especially important in her life—when her father baptized her. “It made me happier than before,” she said. “I knew that my sins could be forgiven.
“I have seen my father bless and baptize the children in our family, and bless other people in the ward who are sick or need a blessing. He also gives us blessings when we start a new year at school. When he does, I know I will have a good year at school.”
Laurence said, “I believe that Heavenly Father hears me when I pray. He has answered my prayers. We prayed when our father lost his job a month and a half ago. We all prayed for him to get a new job, and he got a new job in two weeks!”
Both Claire and Laurence like to study math, and both are good students. Although they are the only Latter-day Saints in their school, they have learned to choose friends who have similar standards and values, and they have talked with some of them about the Church. “Since my parents and relatives are not members of the Church,” says Sister Küsseling, “the children often bear their testimonies to their uncles, aunts, cousins, and grandparents.”
And they try to show by their actions that they are followers of Jesus Christ. For example, they often help their neighbor, an elderly man who lives alone. They help carry his groceries into his house because they worry that he might fall. And they help feed his dog. In return, he lets them eat cherries from his tree.
“I’ve learned in church to be polite,” Laurence said. “The gospel teaches me to be kinder to people around me, including my family.”
Most of all, Claire and Laurence each want to be the kind of mother their own mother is. They are glad to be part of a family that people notice. Some may notice the Küsselings because of the size of their family or because of the car they drive. But more importantly, people notice them for their love for one another and for their efforts to live the gospel.

Joseph Serge Merilus left his native Haiti at the age of 19 and moved to the Dominican Republic in 1980 in search of work. Eighteen months later he went back to Haiti, fell in love, and returned to the Dominican Republic with his new bride, Marie Reymonde Esterlin.
As they began their married life together in their newly adopted country, Joseph experienced a spiritual hunger. He and Marie visited several churches seeking to satisfy that hunger, but as Haitian Creole speakers in a Spanish-speaking country, they had difficulty understanding and being understood. Eventually they ran into two Latter-day Saint missionaries, who invited them to church. After Joseph and Marie had attended several meetings, the missionaries patiently taught them the discussions in Spanish, and they were baptized in September 1997.
Joseph was called to serve in the Sunday School presidency, then as a counselor in the branch presidency, and later as branch president. But because of a series of misunderstandings and hurt feelings, much of it resulting from miscommunication, Joseph, Marie, and their five children fell into inactivity and were largely forgotten by local Church members.
During the next seven years, the couple had four more children and welcomed a nephew and a niece from Haiti into their home. Through much effort Joseph became fluent in Spanish and English and began teaching English and Haitian Creole for a local company.
In August 2007 two priesthood leaders, in the process of seeking out the Lord’s lost sheep, appeared on the family’s doorstep. They discovered that Joseph and Marie still had testimonies of the gospel, even though they had not attended meetings for seven years. The leaders invited the family to return to church, which they did the very next day—all 13 of them. They have been attending ever since.
Today Joseph is a branch mission leader in Barahona, located in the southwestern part of the Dominican Republic. His two eldest sons also serve in branch leadership, and his nephew, a newly ordained elder, is the Young Men president. Recently the family traveled to the temple, where they were sealed as an eternal family.
Just think of it, 13 lost sheep are now found because two member-shepherds were willing to search for, nourish, and bring this family back to the Lord’s fold. They were led to this home just as you and I will be led as we seek out the lost sheep who are our responsibility.

Laney was trying very hard to be reverent in church. But she was tired, and her legs felt wiggly.
After the sacrament was over, Laney opened her book about Jesus. She found the picture of Jesus with the little children. It made her feel peaceful and happy inside.
After sacrament meeting was over, Laney asked Mommy, “Why is it easier to be reverent when I look at my book about Jesus?”
“I think it’s because it reminds you how much Jesus loves you,” Mommy said.
Laney smiled. “Do you think Jesus knows that I love Him too?” she asked.
Mommy gave Laney a hug. “Yes, I’m sure He does.”

When we entered into the holy temple, we were excited and felt that this is the place where God dwells. The Holy Spirit guided us through the temple sessions and the temple workers helped us select the white temple clothing. My pants were too long and when I was busy tying my white tie somebody was folding my pants. When I looked down, I was surprised to see that it was the temple president. That was indeed a great act of humility.

I think of my ancestors in Scotland and northern England who left behind everything they had known to follow the call of a prophet of God telling them to gather with the saints in America, ancestors who essentially came with nothing but their meager possessions and a testimony of truth. Many had no idea where they would be going, had no home or job waiting for them and in many cases no family to anticipate other than those they brought with them. I can scarce imagine such faith. One of these, Robert Harris, a member of the United Brethren, knew nothing of the church and when his wife Hannah Maria went with her sister and her husband, Daniel Browett, to listen to a preacher named Wilford Woodruff, he was not interested. But his wife was. Robert became frustrated with her interest and determined to do something about this Mormon preacher. My grandmother's journal records the following: "That evening he organized a mob. The plot was to 'rotten egg' the Mormon Preachers and then ride them out of town on a rail, and perhaps even tar and feather them. That night they went to the meeting. As Brother Woodruff was speaking, Robert gave the signal and said, 'Now is the time, boys. Let's go in and pitch Woodruff and his companions out.' As he walked toward the front, Robert saw his wife on the front seat listening intently to the words of Brother Woodruff. Again this strange feeling engulfed him and he became overpowered. He put up his hands to stop the mob. 'There is something to this religion.' The mob all bowed their heads and went out. Brother Woodruff continued his meetings and Robert attended. At the end of the sixth meeting, he stepped up to Brother Woodruff and said, 'You have made me a convert to your teachings. I desire to be baptized at your hands.' He was baptized in March 1840, just three weeks after his wife." Later, in 1841, Robert was Daniel Browett's counselor on the ship "Echo" that sailed with 109 members of the church for America. It took them 10 weeks to get from England to Nauvoo. He was among those driven out, and subsequently enlisted with the Mormon Battalion, eventually returning overland from California to arrive in the Salt Lake Valley in October of 1847.

I first learned of the treasure on a beautiful Australian morning in October 1992. My husband, who is not a member of the Church, woke up and described a remarkable dream. He said that in his dream someone from my family had asked him for permission to let me go into mainland China to get my family’s genealogy records.
I asked my husband what his response was. He answered that he did not want to be held accountable for not letting me go.
I was amazed. I had already planned to go to Hong Kong in a few months for my daughter’s wedding. It occurred to me that, after the wedding, I could travel to my family’s ancestral village on mainland China, where our records are kept. Because of my husband’s dream, I decided to make the trip.
I was excited, yet afraid of going into China alone. But Heavenly Father provided a solution. A son-in-law was also going to Hong Kong, and he offered to accompany me into China.
On 16 December 1992, we boarded the train from Hong Kong to GuangZhou, China. From GuangZhou, we took another train eleven hours to the city of MaoMeng; then from MaoMeng we took a motor bike with sidecar three more hours to the village. When we arrived, my uncle was surprised to see us, as he had received the letter announcing my visit only the night before. I recognized him immediately, for he looked just like my father. After we all got acquainted, I asked about the records.
My uncle brought out seven volumes that traced my family back nearly seven hundred years. Not only did they contain birth and death dates, but the records also contained a bit of history on each ancestor. I was thrilled.
However, I faced a major problem. The village was so remote that it had no running water, let alone a photocopy machine. Copying the records by hand would take months. When I expressed my concern, my uncle smiled. He said he had a spare set I could take. My son-in-law and I looked at each other in wonder. These people are not well off; making that extra copy must have cost a lot of money.
For years I excused myself from doing family history work because I lacked records. Now there is no excuse. This experience has convinced me that many of my ancestors have accepted the gospel in the spirit world, and that is why the way was opened for me to secure their records—truly a treasure beyond price.

I can’t pass by President Hafen without mentioning his delightful sense of humor. I have to confess that sometimes I didn’t get the point of his puns, but I nevertheless chortled for days—after all, he was the President. I do remember the telling of one joke which I thought captured his rather unique sense of humor. One day we were walking across campus in the late winter. It had been a particularly brutal winter, even by Rexburg standards, and the snow was flying at us driven by a forty mile an hour wind. As we struggled to make our way, President Hafen turned to me and said, “Mike, Ricks College is a special place.” “How so,” I cautiously responded as bits of ice and snow stung my face. “Well,” he continued above the howl of the wind, “In the Church, many are called, but few are frozen.” His humor warmed me up on a cold and blustery day.

Several years ago, upon entering an electrical establishment, Elder James E. Talmage saw an impressive array of lamps, door chimes, and other electrical items. And “having chosen a lamp, [he] turned the switch to test the … light; but lo, there was no light. The attendant told [him] that the lamps were there as an exhibit only, but were not connected up.”

He reported, “I turned to the bells, but when I pressed a button I listened in vain for [a] responsive tinkle. And so with everything [else] in the shop—pleasing to look upon, some pieces artistic, all suggestive of usefulness, but, as displayed, they were [only] ornaments and nothing more, for they were not connected up.”

Upon leaving the shop Elder Talmage thought, “A burning candle … is worth more in terms of utility than the most elaborate of electroliers without the current.” Then a fitting parallel came to his mind of the “scriptural description of minds and souls darkened and deceived by outward appearances while devoid of spirituality: ‘Having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof’ (2 Tim. 3:5)” (Handbook of the Restoration [Independence, Mo.: Zion’s Printing and Publishing Co., 1944], pp. 389–90).

Those who come from a family where no one attends the temple can be a great example to their families if they have a positive attitude toward the temple. A former temple matron describes hearing a young woman speak in sacrament meeting about the temple. “Her parents are divorced, and there has been a lot of sadness in their family. But this bright spirit stood at the pulpit telling how she wants to go to the temple and how to prepare for it. Her father was there to hear it, and he hadn’t been to church for years. She’s drawing their family together and has been a wonderful example to them.”

Recently, I read about Erik Weihenmayer, a 33-year-old man who dreamed of climbing Mount Everest, a feat that defies many of the world’s most expert climbers. In fact, nearly 90 percent of those who attempt the climb never reach the summit. Temperatures sink lower than 30 degrees below zero. Besides extreme cold, 100-mile-per-hour winds, deadly crevasses, and avalanches, the climber must overcome the challenges of high altitude, lack of oxygen, and perhaps unsanitary food and water. Since 1953, at least 165 climbers have died in the attempt to scale the 29,000-foot-high summit.

In spite of the risks, hundreds line up each year to make the ascent, Erik among them. But there is an important difference between Erik and every other climber who had attempted to ascend before: Erik is totally blind.

When Erik was 13 years of age, he lost his sight as a result of a hereditary disease of the retina. Although he could no longer do many of the things he wanted to, he was determined not to waste his life feeling depressed and useless. He then began to stretch his limits.

At age 16 he discovered rock climbing. By feeling the face of the rock, he found handholds and footholds that allowed him to climb. Sixteen years later, he began his ascent up Mount Everest. The story of his climb, as you might imagine, was filled with many harrowing and life-threatening challenges. But Erik eventually scaled the south summit and took his place with those who had gone before him, one of the few to stand on top of the highest mountain on the face of the earth.

When asked how he did it, Erik said, “I just kept thinking … keep your mind focused. Don’t let all that doubt and fear and frustration sort of get in the way.” Then, most importantly, he said, “Just take each day step by step.”

Yes, Erik conquered Everest by simply putting one foot in front of the other. And he continued to do this until he reached the top.

Like Erik, we may have obstacles that would hold us back. We may even make excuses why we can’t do what we want to do. Perhaps when we are tempted to justify our own lack of achievement, we can remember Erik, who, in spite of having lost his sight, accomplished what many thought was impossible simply by continuing to put one foot in front of the other.

Last Sunday, Ruby and I attended a sacrament meeting of a ward here in central Salt Lake. The meeting was most interesting because in that ward there is some affluence as well as people who are living in halfway houses. Just before the testimony meeting, a young lady walked up to the bishop on the stand holding a little baby in her arms, wanting the baby to receive a blessing. The bishop stepped down and took the little baby, and the baby was blessed.

Later on, during the testimony meeting, a little seven-year-old boy, with his five-year-old sister by the hand, walked up to the pulpit. He helped fix a little stool there for her to stand on, his five-year-old sister, and he helped her as she bore her testimony. And as she would falter just a little, he would lean over and whisper in her ear, this little loving seven-year-old brother.

After she finished, he stood on the stool, and she stood watching him, and he bore his testimony. She had that sweet expression on her face as she watched him. He was her older brother, but you could see that family love and relationship with those two little children. He stepped down from the stool, took her by the hand, and they walked back down to take their seat.

Near the end of the testimony meeting, when there were a few moments for me at the end, I asked the young lady who had brought her child up to be blessed if she would come up and stand by me, which she did. In the meantime, while the testimony meeting was going on, I asked the bishop, whispering into his ear, “Where is her husband?”

The bishop said, “He’s in jail.”

I asked, “What is her name?” and he told me her name.

She came up and stood with me by my side, carrying the little baby. As we were standing at the pulpit, I looked down at this little precious baby, only a few days old, and this mother, the mother of that little daughter who had brought her to receive a blessing at the hands of the priesthood. As I looked at the mother and looked at that precious little child, I wondered of what she might become or what she could be. I spoke to the audience and to this young mother about the proclamation that was issued five years ago by the First Presidency and the Quorum of the Twelve, a proclamation on the family, and of our responsibility to our children, and the children’s responsibility to their parents, and the parents’ responsibility to each other. That marvelous document brings together the scriptural direction that we have received that has guided the lives of God’s children from the time of Adam and Eve and will continue to guide us until the final winding-up scene.

As a teenager, I especially liked driving the furniture delivery truck. One evening when I was backing the truck out of the driveway to go back to the store, I came to a sudden stop accompanied by a loud crash. I pulled forward and then backed up only to crash again. When I got out to inspect, I discovered that I had left the tailgate down, and it had punctured the door of a car parked across the street from our driveway. When I had pulled forward and then backed up to see what had happened, I had crumpled the fender of another car. I waited until I got home later that night to tell my dad and was relieved that he only gave me a stern talking to rather than a licking. Actually, I think he was pleased that I had told the truth.

One of the challenges, as well as a great blessing, of serving a mission is learning how to adjust to new situations. I served in the North German Mission and was still learning the language when I arrived. The first night I was in Germany, right after I dropped my bags off, my wonderful companion said, “Are you ready to go? Let’s go tracting!” I watched him go to two or three doors and talk to people. Then he pushed the doorbell and said, “It’s your turn!”
I’ll never forget the woman who came to the door while I stood there with a Book of Mormon in my hand. All those feelings of anxiety and nervousness that I’d felt when I stood at the pulpit as a child came back again. But because I had worked hard to learn the language and had experience teaching about the First Vision, I knew what I could say. She didn’t accept the Book of Mormon, and she shut the door on me. My companion looked at me and said, “Nice job, Elder Schwitzer. Welcome to Germany.”
Over time, being a missionary became easier as I had the opportunity to meet people and share the gospel. That’s what is amazing about the gospel of Jesus Christ: the more you testify, the more you grow as a missionary. You don’t just go out to serve a mission; you go out to become a missionary, and in the process you become a disciple of Jesus Christ.

My wife, Ruth, and I, with Bruce L. Olsen and Randy Boothe and some others, took the first BYU performing group into China in 1979. I was privileged to rededicate that great land in the Ten Thousand Springs Pavilion within the Forbidden City. What happened on that trip and what has happened since with reference to our relations in China is very remarkable. To the Chinese, Brigham Young University is possibly one of the best-known universities located outside China.

First, be the servant. We witnessed an amazing example of Christlike love and humility when Ron and I were assigned to a Priesthood Leadership conference with Elder Gerrit W. Gong. Between meetings, a light luncheon was provided for several leaders and spouses who were involved in the conference. As is typical with presiding authorities, Elder Gong and his wife, Susan, were invited to the buffet table to be first in line. Instead of picking up a plate for himself, Elder Gong picked up all the plates and began to hand one to all who came through the line, greeting them one by one with his gentle smile. While Elder Gong was on plate duty at one end of the table, Sister Gong filled cups with drinks at the other end. They saw an opportunity to humbly and joyfully serve, and their simple actions made each person feel important and appreciated.

Ron and I will never forget the humble, covenant leadership we witnessed that day from Elder and Sister Gong. I hope we will remember that, most often, it is the small kindnesses we share that make the biggest difference in the hearts and minds of those we serve.

Missionary work was also the emphasis in camp. Chris Johnson had been instrumental in introducing the gospel to her best friend and her friend’s family. Chris had yearned for her friend to grow in the gospel until she could bear her testimony to a group. In a small testimony meeting with the Adventurers, Chris said, “I do have a strong testimony. I love the Book of Mormon with all my heart. Missionary work strengthens you so much. “Then Chris heard her friend bear her testimony for the first time. “She told me that she loved me, and she trusted me. She said she knew she is a child of God. I’ve waited so long to hear that.”

These early seeds of faith sprouted still further when, as a young Aaronic Priesthood boy, I received a firsthand confirmation of the remarkable testimony of the Three Witnesses concerning the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon. My stake president was President Henry D. Moyle, and his father was James H. Moyle. In the summertime Brother James H. Moyle would visit his family, and he would worship with us in our little ward in the southeast of the Salt Lake Valley.
One Sunday, Brother James H. Moyle shared with us a singular experience. As a young man he went to the University of Michigan to study law. As he was finishing his studies, his father told him that David Whitmer, one of the witnesses of the Book of Mormon, was still alive. The father suggested to his son that he stop on his way back to Salt Lake City to visit with David Whitmer face-to-face. Brother Moyle’s purpose was to ask him about his testimony concerning the golden plates and the Book of Mormon.
During that visit, Brother Moyle said to David Whitmer: “Sir, you are an old man, and I’m a young man. I have been studying about witnesses and testimonies. Please tell me the truth concerning your testimony as one of the witnesses of the Book of Mormon.” David Whitmer then told this young man: “Yes, I held the golden plates in my hands, and they were shown to us by an angel. My testimony concerning the Book of Mormon is true.” David Whitmer was out of the Church, but he never denied his testimony of the angel’s visitation, of handling the golden plates, or of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon. Hearing with my own ears this remarkable experience directly from Brother Moyle’s lips had a powerful, confirming effect upon my growing testimony. Having heard it, I felt it was binding upon me.

Fourteen-year-old Trevor Hoffman of the Carrolton Second Ward, Lewisville Texas Stake, has already been wrestling for ten years. Recently, he won the Texas Amateur Wrestling Association Championship, in the 15-and-under, 85-pound division.
Last year Trevor had a perfect 21–0 record. He credits much of his success to family support. He’s also got several Montana State wrestling and judo championships under his belt, which he earned before moving to Texas. His goal is to qualify for the 1996 and 2000 Olympics.
Trevor doesn’t live his life on the mat, though—he spends some time hitting the books and has made his school’s high honor roll. He’s also active in his ward.