Gospel Story Finder

“I’m bored,” Mike said.
Mike’s mother looked up from the cake she was making. “I’m going to work in the garden while the cake bakes,” she said. “I could use a strong boy like you to help me.”
“That’s no fun,” Mike told her as he licked the spoon. “I want to do something fun.”
Mike followed his mother to the garden. He looked cross, even with cake batter on his chin. He ate some fresh peas, watered the corn, and watched a ladybug crawl along a bean leaf.
“How would you like to deliver some carrots to Aunt Annie?” asked his mother.
Mike started to grin. “I have an idea,” he said, running toward the house.
Mike cut out the bottom of an old shoe box. He found a red crayon and wrote three words on the piece of box. Then he got his skates and ran back to the garden. “Pin this on my back, please,” he said to his mother.
“Mike’s Delivery Service,” she read as she pinned it to his shirt.
Mike put on his skates and picked up the bag of carrots. “Vroom! Vroom!” he said as he started down the sidewalk.
Old Mr. Davis, who lived in the next block, was walking by. He had a bag of groceries in his arms, and his dog, Chip, on a leash. “Beep! Beep!” Mike shouted, skating carefully out around the old man. “Make way for Mike’s Delivery Service!”
“Yap! Yap!” barked Chip, jerking his leash.
Mike turned in at the house on the corner. He rang the doorbell and called, “Delivery for you, Aunt Annie!”
“Why, thank you, Mr. Mike,” said the smiling lady who opened the door. “Do you take return loads?”
Aunt Annie put a carton of eggs in Mike’s hands. She said, “This is a special delivery, sir. Please be very careful.”
Chip barked and pulled at his leash when Mike passed him and Mr. Davis again.
Mike’s mother met him at the door and took the eggs. “Thank you, sir. You have a very good delivery service.”
Mike sat on the step and ate a piece of warm cake. While he ate, he had another idea. “I have one more job to do, Mom,” he called. And Mike’s Delivery Service took off again.
Mr. Davis was sitting on a low wall, resting. Chip could hear Mike’s skates, and he pulled on the leash.
“Mr. Davis,” said Mike, “I’ll carry that bag for you.”
“Well, Mr. Delivery Service,” said the old man, “it has a jar of jam in it.” Then he winked and said, “If the glass broke, it could give your ‘delivery truck’ a flat tire. But you would help me a lot if you could take my dog!”
Mike took Chip’s leash in his hand. Chip barked and ran down the walk, pulling Mike behind him. “Slow down, Chip, before we get a ticket for speeding!” yelled Mike.
Chip and Mike were waiting when Mr. Davis got home. “Thanks, Mike,” said the tired man. “You made a fast delivery—but did you deliver the dog, or did the dog deliver you?”
“Chip delivered me,” Mike said. “And he liked it. Look at him.”
Chip was wagging his tail hard.
“You like to help, don’t you, boy?” asked Mike as he patted the head of the happy dog.
Mike felt happy, too, and not a bit bored.

However, this calling was only a stepping-stone to what was to come. Eighteen months later, I was listening to the blessing setting me apart as a Relief Society president. I knew there was much work to do to help uplift and strengthen the sisters, many of whom came from cultural and economic backgrounds different from my own. I especially wanted to encourage those sisters who didn’t attend church regularly to come back into full activity and enjoy the fulness of the gospel.
Almost overnight after my setting apart, I felt a confidence I had never possessed before. My compassion increased noticeably. The Lord was truly magnifying my abilities, and I felt that with his help I could accomplish anything he required of me. As I started visiting sisters in their homes, my love for them grew.
I learned patience as I sat beside the elderly and infirm, listening to them talk of their challenges. With tears streaming down her face, one dear sister in her 80s told me how she no longer felt like knitting or crocheting. Every part of her body hurt, and the days and nights were long and sad.
A year later I sat by her hospital bed, holding her withered hand and stroking her thin arm. As she labored for every breath, I pleaded with Heavenly Father to release her from her terrible suffering if that was his will. Many sisters in the ward had helped her feel loved as cancer ravaged her body; we all longed for her to be at peace.
Forty-eight hours later, she breathed her last breath, and we all wept together. We could envision her joy as she entered into a new life of freedom from earthly cares.
As I sat with her that last night, I knew that even in her terrible physical condition, there was still purpose in her life—not only for her personally but also for us. How could we learn to give of our time and love if there were no needy souls?
There were dear sisters in our ward who could no longer see and who relied on others to read to them and keep them informed. There were sisters with hearing loss who couldn’t benefit fully from the lessons and talks given during Sunday meetings. Yet many of them continued to attend, eager for the fellowship and love found within the walls of the meetinghouse.
I learned to give of my time and to feel it was not a sacrifice. Many Saturdays I woke up feeling burdened. How I wanted to take the day off, to stay home and wallow in my own worries and cares! Sometimes the heaviness of heart almost overwhelmed me. But in every case, when I drove up to a hospital or home to visit someone in need, my own worries subsided and the feeling of peace returned. Once again, I was reminded that the Lord greatly blesses us when we sacrifice to reach out to another soul.
I loved the unity I felt among the sisters in my ward. Amid our differences in backgrounds, interests, and cultures, we felt close and united in our love for one another.
I am grateful for the inspiration I received as I sought to meet the needs of others. Ideas flowed, and as I attempted to implement those ideas and prayed for guidance, more light and knowledge came to me. It was a most humbling experience. I felt myself being spiritually stretched and filled.
The greatest experience I had as a Relief Society president was receiving an increase of love beyond anything I had previously experienced. I know that the Lord increased my capacity to love and care, and this feeling has not left me. Never before have I worked so hard and found so much joy in any calling. Relief Society changed my life.

One day while upset with his younger brother, our nine-year-old loudly complained of his brother’s faults. This had happened many times before, and it had troubled me, but this day I felt inspired to try a more positive approach to solving the problem. I sent my son to his room and told him not to come out until he had written down ten nice things about his younger brother. When he emerged with the list, his attitude had changed. Looking for the positive had crowded out his negative thoughts and feelings.
We have since used this form of discipline frequently and have found it an effective way to maintain an atmosphere of love in our home. And learning early in life to look for a person’s good qualities will make our children happier and better prepared to get along with others in the future.

Age 16. From Alberta, Canada. Likes laughing, learning, and cooking the perfect hamburger.
Growing up, my parents were very active in the Church. I often felt like I was dragged to service projects without a choice. As I’ve grown older and continued to participate in service, I’ve found that it has changed me for the better. As I focus less on myself, I’m happier.
Once, I had an opportunity to go to the inner city with a few other youth to help the homeless. One man from El Salvador told me about how he had to leave his home country due to violence and ended up on the streets in Canada. I also met a man who reminded me to stay in school and not to take my opportunities for granted.
Hearing their stories and seeing their perseverance and humility had a profound effect on me. It’s easy to ignore the homeless and assume that they brought their situation on themselves. But Isaiah talks about how Jesus Christ bore our sorrows and was rejected of men (see Isaiah 53:3). I believe that as disciples of Jesus Christ, we shouldn’t ignore those who are rejected like He was.
While I may not be able to solve all their problems, I know that even the smallest acts of service can make a big difference in someone’s life.
“Even the smallest acts of service can make a big difference.”

The odds seemed against our marriage from the start. My parents divorced when I was four. By the time I left for my mission, my parents had gone through three more marriages. One of those marriages lasted only seven months. My wife’s parents divorced when she was 13. According to statistics, we were three more times likely to divorce than people raised in intact homes.1
Those of us who have experienced this can wonder if marriage is a good idea. After all, we’ve suffered the effects of divorce. We’ve had siblings, grandparents, and other relatives who have entered and exited our lives like waves on a seashore. We’ve seen what divorce can do to everyone involved. Why would we enter this relationship that’s supposed to last for eternity, when we’ve seen the bitter ends of these kinds of relationships in a few short years?
Despite all that, I wasn’t afraid of marriage. I had watched the relationships falling apart as a youth, but I knew that if I could find a better model, I could make marriage work. Since all of them lacked a firm gospel foundation, I thought that might be the missing ingredient.
When Nephi was told to build a ship, the Lord told him, “Thou shalt construct a ship, after the manner which I shall show thee” (1 Nephi 17:8). Nephi did and says it was not built “after the manner of men” but “after the manner which the Lord had shown unto me” (1 Nephi 18:2). By building your future marriage on gospel principles—by building them in the manner the Lord has shown—you can have a successful relationship regardless of your background.
As we moved forward in our relationship, Annie (my wife) and I agreed on a few things. The first was that there was no easy escape clause in our marriage. Divorce wasn’t an option unless infidelity or abuse were involved. We agreed that everything else could be worked out. We also recognized that the behavior patterns we had seen in our homes growing up didn’t work. We needed a better way: that way is the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Because Annie and I had both previously been endowed, temple attendance was an important part of our courtship. We went regularly and enjoyed the Spirit together. We started studying the Book of Mormon together. This formed a good basis for our discussions about what we wanted to create in a marriage.
The same month that my wife and I got engaged, the Church released the proclamation on the family, which counsels, “Happiness in family life is most likely to be achieved when founded upon the teachings of the Lord Jesus Christ. Successful marriages and families are established and maintained on principles of faith, prayer, repentance, forgiveness, respect, love, compassion, work, and wholesome recreational activities.”2
Similarly, President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) in speaking of the increase in divorces throughout the world, identified one major reason: “It appears to me that there are some obvious reasons that account for a very high percentage of these problems. I say this out of experience in dealing with such tragedies. I find selfishness to be the root cause of most of it.”3
It’s easy to blame our spouse for problems, especially the small annoyances that bubble up with daily living. If we concentrate on those problems, they can grow into huge divisions that can sink a marriage.4 I’ve often found that selfishness makes those frustrations grow. Knowing this has helped me to think more about Annie and her needs and helps me to ignore minor annoyances.
We have now been married for 22 years. It hasn’t always been easy. Annie and I have had the normal relationship bumps. There have been difficulties over the years. But because of our commitment to the relationship and a willingness to turn to the Lord for answers, we have grown together. As different situations and questions have arisen, we have been able to turn to the scriptures, the teachings of the prophets, and prayer to find solutions.
The average length of a first marriage that ends in divorce is nine years (in the USA).5 Because Annie and I built our marriage after the manner the Lord has shown us, we beat those odds. I’m glad we didn’t let fear of the world we were raised in stop us. There’s always more work to do, but we are both confident that our marriage will continue to improve through the years to come.

A returned missionary wrote recently:

Once I reached my mission, I was so caught up in trying to understand what missionaries did I hardly had time to dwell on my questions too much. But I was quite conscious, still, of not wanting to say I “knew” more than I felt I really knew. As time went on I had a number of experiences in which I saw the Spirit of the Lord actively working in the lives of a few investigators, members, and missionaries. After several months I found myself feeling more comfortable in acknowledging the reality of the Lord’s influence in my experience. I began learning that a testimony is a gradual, growing thing rather than a sudden yes-or-no kind of event. As time passed I could testify with more confidence that the gospel changes lives. Through all of this I never changed my conviction about being honest with myself. Then I discovered that because of that honesty, the affirming experiences I did have meant even more to me because I knew they were real.

I could literally trace my development through the verses in Alma 32, which became a source of great comfort and understanding for me. As Alma put it [verses 34–35]: “For ye know that the word hath swelled your souls, and ye also know that it hath sprouted up, that your understanding doth begin to be enlightened, and your mind doth begin to expand. O then, is not this real? I say unto you, Yea.”

This has been how my testimony has developed—one real step at a time. My testimony is based on real experiences. For me it has not been quickly gotten, nor based on a one-time clincher kind of experience—just piece by piece. But each piece is a true story, even if it may also have a little true preaching in it. Each piece is part of ultimate reality—an eternal circle. I feel I have learned, like Hamlet, that “I have that within which passeth show” (act 1, scene 2, line 84).

My next step was to try my goal at school. Being the only Mormon in my school was more than a little challenging. I started by listening to my friends, not just hearing. Others began to listen back. I found there was so much to learn about each person—their beliefs, their interests, and their goals. Also, I found that each person, whether he is Jewish, Greek Orthodox, or Catholic, wants to be important; he wants others to care about him.

The red, yellow, and orange leaves crunched under my feet on the bumpy brick sidewalk. Ivy climbed up the old buildings I passed on my way, forming intricate designs. I was headed for the subway. I was happy; inside I was singing. The blue sky outlined the tall majestic buildings. When I arrived at the subway station, I dug into my pocket and pulled out a button that read, “I Care.” I smiled. I pulled out a quarter and rode up to Park Street Station. A hundred faces, each individual, each reflecting a different personality, rode with me.
I smiled at every gaze that fell my way; some smiled back and sent a part of themselves with their smile. I knew where I was going; I knew what I wanted. I wanted others to know too. I had found the true joy of living; the button was pinned on the outside of my coat and on the inside of my heart.

“I’m trying to be like Jesus; I’m following in his ways,” Ella sang as she hopped up the front steps and came in the door.
“Today in Primary we learned that we should be like Jesus,” Ella said to Mom. “I promised Sister Hansen I’d try to be like Jesus all week! I’m going to start right now.”
As the rest of her family came in, Ella told each of them her plan to be like Jesus. She smiled a giant smile.
Ella ran to her room and carefully hung her Sunday dress in the closet. She returned to the kitchen and helped carry the plates to the table.
The next morning, Ella got up as soon as Mom called her. She ate all her breakfast and didn’t complain, even though her scrambled eggs were too squishy.
The rest of the week Ella tried to be like Jesus, but every day her smile got a little smaller.
When Sunday came again, Ella wasn’t smiling at all.
As Mom brushed Ella’s long hair, big tears ran down Ella’s cheeks.
“I’m sorry, honey,” Mom said. “Did I pull your hair?”
“No,” Ella said. “I just didn’t do what I was supposed to do. I wasn’t like Jesus all week. It’s a lot easier to sing about being like Jesus than it is to really be like Him. Sister Hansen is going to be disappointed.”
Mom wiped Ella’s tears away. “Ella, how did you want to be like Jesus?”
Ella sniffed. “I knew I couldn’t do big miracles like Jesus did, but I thought I could do something important.”
Mom smiled. “You did lots of things to be like Jesus. You helped me find my keys when they fell under the couch. You helped Rosie and Libby practice their song for choir. You helped Gabe make a poster for his book report.”
“Those are just normal things,” Ella said. “I wanted to be like Jesus and do something big.”
Mom gave Ella a hug. “The biggest thing that Jesus did was helping us be able to return to Heavenly Father. I think helping is the biggest thing you can do too.”
Later at church, Ella was quiet as sacrament meeting started. In front of her, Sister Simmons was holding her new baby and her two little girls were wiggly and unhappy. It was hard for Ella to think about being like Jesus. One of the girls looked at her sadly.
Ella reached into her scripture bag and pulled out a pencil and a paper. She quickly drew a picture of the little girl and handed it to her. The little girl smiled as she showed the paper to her mom. Ella drew a picture of the other little girl too.
Sister Simmons smiled back at Ella. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Ella looked at Mom. “I guess helping people is being like Jesus. Helping people is the best thing I can do!”

Toward the end of my education in Japan, I traveled to Thailand to perform field research for my master’s degree. I was excited but nervous about the trip.
Before I left, I asked for a priesthood blessing. During the blessing, I was counseled to seek priesthood blessings in troubling times. I was told: “Remember that on this earth, there is no place that was not created by the power of the priesthood. So, wherever you go, seek a priesthood holder and ask for help, and you will be blessed.”
I had no idea how to find the Church in Thailand once I arrived. The internet was not yet developed, so I couldn’t look up the location of buildings. We arrived at the Bangkok airport on a Saturday afternoon. In the bus, I prayed sincerely, “Heavenly Father, tomorrow is Sunday. Please help me find the Church.”
I finished my prayer and looked outside. To my surprise, I saw a sign for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Thai and in English.
The following morning, I took an auto rickshaw to that building. Afterward, the members there gave me the address of a home closer to my rural work site where branch meetings were held. They also gave me the phone number of the full-time missionaries. The following Sunday, I attended that branch.
After days of working long hours in the hot sun, I became exhausted. Eventually, I got sick.
I called the full-time missionaries, and we scheduled a time to meet at the branch site. When I arrived the following day, nobody was there. As I waited outside, I prayed, “Heavenly Father, I know You can heal me, if that is Thy will. Please help me.”
The missionaries soon arrived with the branch president. When these three priesthood holders laid their hands on my head, I felt the power of the Holy Ghost run from the top of my head to my toes. Immediately I was healed.
In a small town far from my home country, I sought help from priesthood holders. The Lord blessed me through His priesthood and my faith. In my travels since then, I have asked for many blessings from priesthood holders worldwide. I am grateful to know that priesthood power held by worthy priesthood holders is the same in every land.

Photographs from Getty Images
Wilma Rudolph: 2-time Olympian, 3 gold medals, polio survivor.
In 1960 Wilma Rudolph became a track and field legend. She was running for the United States in the Olympics, which were being televised for the first time. In spite of the intense pressure, Wilma ran so quickly she was proclaimed “the fastest woman in the world.” By the end of the Olympics, she had won not just one gold medal but three—the first American woman ever to do so.
Wilma’s incredible victory teaches us a powerful lesson about our true potential and identity. But her story is even more inspiring when you know how it began.
Wilma was born in Tennessee in 1940. She was the 20th of 22 children in her family. She was born prematurely and weighed under five pounds. In her early childhood she suffered from a slew of illnesses—pneumonia, scarlet fever, and then polio, which left her with limited use of her left leg. She required leg braces to stand. “My doctor told me I would never walk again. My mother told me I would,” Wilma said. “I believed my mother.”1
When she was nine years old, Wilma determined to prove the doctors wrong. She took off her leg braces and began to walk, one slow step at a time. She fell, she got up and tried again, and again, and again. With grit, determination, and faith, Wilma continued to practice. Eventually, she even started to run. She ran a lot. And, after years of work, she ran fast—very fast. Fast enough to run in the 1956 Olympics and win a bronze medal at age 16. Then, four years later, she ran again to win those amazing three gold medals.
Winners of the women’s 100-meter race at the 1960 Rome, Italy, Olympics. Wilma Rudolph (center) is awarded the gold medal.
Photograph from Getty Images

Years ago, when I was a stake president in Paris, France, I was told that President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) was coming to Paris for a couple of days and that I was going to be his driver. I would pick him up at the airport and take him to his hotel so he could rest. The next day I would take him to do a number of visits. One visit he wanted to make was to a U.S. military cemetery, where his brother, who died of influenza during World War I, is buried.
But when I picked up President Hinckley, he didn’t look very tired. He held his cane up and said, “President Caussé! Let’s go to work!”
He wanted to go to the cemetery right away. Unfortunately, I had arranged with the director to go there the next day, so when we arrived, it was closed and nobody was there.
The next day, we were so busy that we didn’t have time to go back to the cemetery. That evening, President Hinckley handed me a $10 (U.S.) bill and said, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to go to the cemetery. I would be very grateful if you could buy flowers and put them on my brother’s grave.”
I bought flowers, but I didn’t use that bill. The following Sunday afternoon, I went with my family and put the flowers on the grave. We took a picture of our family in front of the grave with all the flowers and sent it to President Hinckley.
I still have that $10 bill. It’s in my scriptures. If I were to ask, “What is the value of this bill?” most people would say, “Ten dollars.” But for me, it’s worth far more. This bill was worth ten dollars, but for me, it’s priceless now. It’s a memory of a moment I had with a prophet of God.

The third week of every month we hold a special home evening for a large group of ward members who come to my home. But one night was a particularly memorable one for everyone involved.
Our group of “regulars” consists of widows, widowers, recent converts, new move-ins, and others. We have something to eat, good conversation, and what we have come to call our “sharing time”—when one or two people tell the rest of us about their lives and let us get to know them better.
We had all been particularly eager to get to know one older brother and his newly converted wife and wanted to include them in our family home evenings. But although they always came to church, it seemed they could never come to our monthly gathering. As a result, I was really happy one week when they said they would join us.
Then, the evening before our gathering, this brother telephoned. My heart sank when I heard his voice, and I teasingly said, “Don’t tell me you are going to turn us down again and not come!” Laughingly he responded, “Wait until you hear why we can’t make it this time. The bishop called me this afternoon and said I’ve been cleared for rebaptism.”
I had always assumed that he was a member in full fellowship in the Church and was thrilled to hear the news. He continued to tell me that the wait had been long and painful for him. “You just can’t imagine what this means to me,” he said. “I want to be baptized immediately. The ceremony is scheduled for tomorrow.” I expressed disappointment that none of us could attend because of our planned home evening, but wished him well.
But when the next evening arrived, a telephone call with the frantic voice of our bishop’s wife on the other end interrupted our evening’s preparations. The bishop, a doctor, had been called to the hospital for an emergency, she explained. To make matters worse, the ward mission leader had been called out of town on business. The brother to be baptized was waiting at the chapel with a few members of his family.
While the bishop’s wife tried to contact the stake president, my husband explained to our home evening group, “No one is at the chapel but the man’s family,” he said. “Would you all be willing to go to the chapel and support this brother in this important event of his life?”
His words filled our hearts with the Spirit. We quickly drove to the chapel to meet a worried stake president. As we took our seats, a strong spirit filled the room, so much so that tears began filling everyone’s eyes. When the brother to be baptized walked out and saw all of the tearful, smiling faces—full of support and love for him—he whispered, “I just knew everything was going to turn out all right and that you were all going to be here.”
What followed was a powerful, beautiful meeting I’m sure none of us will ever forget. When it was over, we congratulated our newly baptized brother and said, “We love you.” He hugged us, weeping openly. We returned to our home evening and enjoyed a profoundly spiritual night together, bearing testimonies of baptism, repentance, and the wonders of the gospel.

Happy music played as Jaechan and Mom got up from their seats in the school gym. Bunches of bright balloons floated along the walls as the other kids and their parents talked excitedly.
Tomorrow was the first day of school, and in South Korea new students always went to a special program to celebrate the start of school. As he listened to the songs and speakers, Jaechan felt excited. He couldn’t wait to start learning!
After the program, Mom and Jaechan walked down the school halls. When they got to his classroom, Jaechan met his teacher. She seemed really nice.
Later Mom and Jaechan walked outside into the warm spring sunshine. Even the sun and the sky seemed happy for school to start.
The next morning, Mom walked Jaechan to the school gate. She hugged him tight. “I love you,” she said. “Have a good first day.”
“I will,” Jaechan said. “I love you too!” He waved goodbye and turned to walk to his classroom, just like they had practiced.
As Jaechan walked down the hall, he started to worry. Is this the right way? Jaechan stopped and looked around. He turned and walked down a different hall. Soon everything felt all mixed up.
Jaechan took a deep breath. He knew he had been in this hallway yesterday. He kept walking and went through a big set of doors.
But Jaechan didn’t see his classroom, with desks and friends and his nice teacher. He saw the gym. And now there were no people or balloons. It was just a big empty room.
Tears filled Jaechan’s eyes. He tried not to panic, but he was scared. He didn’t know how to find his classroom. He knelt to pray. “Heavenly Father, I’m lost. Please help Mom to come find me and help me get to my class.”
Jaechan stood up. He took a few more deep breaths. Then he waited.
A few minutes later, Mom came around the corner. “Jaechan!” She ran to him and held him close. “What happened?”
Jaechan burst into tears. He was so relieved to see Mom. “I couldn’t find my classroom,” he said. “So I prayed that you would come find me.”
Mom wiped the tears from his cheeks. “I’m glad you said a prayer,” she said. “I was on my way home. Then I had a feeling that I should turn around and make sure you found your classroom. When you weren’t there, I looked all over. Then I found you!”
Jaechan held Mom’s hand as they walked down the right hallway. Jaechan had stopped crying. He knew Heavenly Father had answered his prayer, and everything was OK. When they got to the classroom, he heard the other kids inside laughing and having fun.
“Jaechan! We are so happy to see you,” Jaechan’s teacher said as he walked in.
“Thanks,” Jaechan said with a small bow. He gave Mom one more hug. It was going to be a good first day of school after all.

One time we went to watch a couple of movies at somebody’s house. My friends and I picked out one movie that was fine, and they also picked out another movie I knew was inappropriate. I mentioned something about not wanting to watch it, but everyone went ahead and rented it anyway. Will noticed I was quiet as we were driving away from the rental place.
“Hey, Jacob, is it really bothering you that we got that other movie?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “But it’s OK. I’ll just leave for that movie.”
Will didn’t think it was OK. He turned the car around and drove back to where we got the movie. Will and I went back and exchanged the inappropriate movie for something better that everybody still wanted to watch. I was always glad to have friends who helped me live my standards.

Like the Semeonovs, other Soviets have learned of the restored gospel through friends outside the country. Among the earliest to be baptized were Yuri Terebinen and his wife, Ludmilla, of Leningrad. They joined the Church in the fall of 1989 in Hungary while visiting with friends. “We went to church with them,” says Yuri, “and felt something different in the people’s relationship with God and with each other. It seemed right that we should be free to communicate directly with God for ourselves, rather than through professional clergy. You are taught, and you teach; this brings you closer to God.
“For me, the rituals and language of other churches I had visited often came between me and God. Here, I felt intimately connected with Him, which made me also feel closer to people.”
When the Terebinens returned to Leningrad after being baptized, they relied on friends in Helsinki to put them in touch with the Finnish mission president, who at the time was Steven Mecham. President Mecham and his counselor Yusi Kempainen had already been visiting with members in Viborg and Tallinn. They visited with the Terebinens and other members in Leningrad. By December 1989, small branches of the Church were established in those three cities.
Yuri became the first branch president in Leningrad. Since then, the branch has been divided into two, with a total of over 160 members. There is now also a branch in Moscow.

The closest temple for the saints in Brazzaville is currently in Kinshasa, in the DRC. Getting there has not always been easy.
“We organized massive trips to the temple in Kinshasa, which meant we had to brave the challenge of crossing the turbulent river with our families,” said President Gayouele. “It was also during a time when our country was going through a severe recession. Families were destitute, but for these trips, members made enormous sacrifices to pay for the tickets for crossing the river, meals, and accommodation. There were so many of us leaving for the temple that very often there was no more room for us in the Kinshasa temple. Some brothers and sisters had to stay outside the temple and wait for their turn. These trips were sometimes trials of faith and determination for temple ordinances. Eventually, these trips have enabled us to bring the spirit of the temple into the hearts of Church members.”

The following Wednesday I had a meet in Holbrook. My top challenger in the state was Dennis LaDuke, a kid from Holbrook. I led LaDuke over the entire course. Maybe that was my mistake. With the finish line less than 200 yards ahead of me, LaDuke made his move and beat me by three seconds.
“You’re barely at midseason, Joseph,” Dad said, trying to console me that evening. “All you have to do is shave three and a half seconds off your time.”
“You know how hard that can be, Dad?” I grumbled.
“You need a Rex Manning to push you,” Dad remarked.
“What do you mean I need a Rex Manning?”
Dad smiled and explained how he and Rex had worked out together on the same team, both shooting for the gold medal at state. Rex was a year older and had been running since he was a boy. He shared every running secret he had with Dad. He wanted Dad to be good too. Days before state, Dad spoke bluntly to Rex. “I appreciate your helping me, Rex, but aren’t you afraid you’ve made me too fast?”
Rex had laughed. “Sam, I want you fast—faster than anybody. The faster you are, the harder I run. When we race, you’ll push me and make me a champion.”
“You might figure wrong,” Dad pointed out.
“Sam, I know how fast you run.” He grinned. “I’ll run a little faster.”
Dad looked at me. “When I ran that last race, I broke the old state record. But Rex was two strides ahead of me.”
A couple of days later I was warming up when I spotted Rex leaning against the elm tree. All during my workout I had thought of LaDuke and those three-and-a-half seconds. I’m not sure I was actually serious when I first panted over to Rex.
“Hey, man, you still pounding the pavement?” he greeted me in his jovial way.
“Dad said you were the best runner he ever knew,” I said.
Rex’s smile faded. “That was a long time ago, kid. I’ve had a whole lot of booze since then.” There was genuine sadness and regret in his simple confession.
“Dad said you helped him run faster than everybody.”
“Sam was fast. He beat everybody—but me.”
“Help me run.” I didn’t smile. “Only one guy, Dennis LaDuke, is faster than me.”
A gray shadow dimmed Rex’s features. “I’m a loser, kid. I don’t run no more. I drink too much. Sometimes I can’t even walk.”
“Just help me cut a few seconds off my time.”
Rex didn’t answer. He just stood there solemnly, ignoring me as though I had never spoken. After a moment I jogged away from him, leaving him to his memories and his hurt.
The following Monday I trotted out to the track to warm up. Rex Manning was sitting in the bleachers. He stood and waved as I ambled over to him. The first thing I noticed was that he was sober. “You going to help me shave those three-and-a-half seconds from my time?”
Rex snorted. “We’re taking off ten seconds so you can beat everybody—including this LaDuke.”
At first Coach Spaulding was a bit hesitant having Rex around. But one day at the track changed that impression. Rex ceased being an old, out-of-shape drunk. He became an expert.
Rex worked at one of the mills outside of town and was usually off by 3:30. In the past it had been his practice to stop at the bar on the edge of town after work. But once he started coming to workouts, he postponed his stop at the bar and headed directly to the track. A week later, Rex took me to a wash that cut along the west side of town. Sinking into the soft sandy wash bottom up to my ankles, I waited for Rex to tell me what to do. He sat in the shade of a cedar and ordered me to do wind sprints in the sand. It didn’t take long before my tongue was hanging out and sweat was pouring down my face.
But seeing my exhaustion only increased Rex’s intensity. Soon he had me racing through the cedars toward a steep knoll a mile away. He gave me instructions: On the west side of the knoll I would find a narrow path that zig-zagged to the top of the knoll. I was to take that path and race up and down the knoll five times. From a distance it didn’t look very steep, but once I reached it and started challenging that knoll, I discovered that my efforts in the sandy wash bottom had been a mere warm-up for the rest of the afternoon.
By the end of that first day, exhaustion took on a whole new meaning. That night at dinner I whined to Dad about what had happened.
Dad looked across the table at me. “Sounds like Rex still has his old drive.” He smiled.
“I’ll bet he never worked like he made me work today.”
Dad set his fork down. “Who do you think made those trails you jogged on this afternoon, Joseph? Nobody worked out like Rex. I know. I tried to keep up with him.”
The next afternoon Rex was at the track. He became my personal coach. He was as regular as the three-thirty bell. He still stopped occasionally at the bars after practice, but he was always cold sober at three-thirty. I worked out with Rex every day right up to the state meet.
Several days before the meet, Dad knocked on my door and I invited him in. He studied me for a moment. “Joseph, I want you to know something before the race Friday.”
“I’ve always wanted you to win this race.” He took a deep breath. “But, Joseph, during these past few weeks I’ve come to see something that means more to me than your winning Friday.” He paused. There was a mist in his eyes. “I appreciate what you’ve done for Rex. I used to see him stumbling down the street. I tried to ignore him. I wanted to remember him another way. But yesterday I ran into Rex at the store. We talked.” Dad smiled. “He’s proud of you, Joseph. I could see some of the old Rex. I saw hope instead of despair. If you win Friday, that will be wonderful. But the real victory, the one that means the very most, is the one you’ve already won with Rex. I want you to know that.”
Rex showed up late for the next day’s practice, but when he arrived he came with his blond hair cut short, his face clean shaven, and wearing a fresh pair of jeans and white T-shirt. “I almost didn’t recognize you,” I joked when he strolled up.
“Well, kid, I figured you deserved to have somebody with a little class coach you.”
At the end of practice as I told Rex good-bye he shook my hand. “Good luck, kid.” There was excitement in his eyes. “The boss gave me the day off to see the race.”
“You’re going to Payson tomorrow to watch me run?” I asked, grinning.
He looked away. “If I can get there. My truck broke down this afternoon.”
“Davidson,” Coach Spaulding interrupted, “remember the van’s pulling out at six o’clock in the morning. We want to get to Payson early.”
An idea struck me. “Coach,” I spoke, stepping away from Rex, “hey do you think we could take Rex with us? There will be plenty of room in the van.”
Coach Spaulding looked at me, hesitating. “I don’t know, Davidson. I don’t know if I can count on Rex to be sober.”
“Coach, Rex has been cold sober for over a week. He was planning to go, but his truck broke down. I’d like to have him there, Coach. I promise he’ll be sober. I need him there.”
Coach Spaulding glanced in Rex’s direction. “All right,” he finally conceded. “He’s been helping you out. I suppose I can take him as a volunteer coach. But,” he added, “if I smell just the faintest trace of …”
“You won’t smell anything,” I cut him off. “Thanks, Coach.”
“Rex, you’re going with us in the van,” I announced excitedly. “You’ll be an assistant coach.”
For a moment my announcement didn’t register, and then suddenly his face crinkled into a grateful grin. “Thanks, kid. I’ll be here before six,” he committed. “And tomorrow LaDuke can have that silver medal all to himself,” he added with confidence. “Tomorrow nobody beats Sam Davidson’s kid. Not while I’m around.”
As I stood there witnessing Rex’s excitement and confidence, I knew that regardless of the outcome of the race the next day, Rex and I had already secured a gold medal victory.

Sione ‘Oleli Piutau Tupou also discovered that personal and spiritual journeys require as much faith as physical ones. Raised in the Church by parents he calls “true stalwarts,” he strayed after their deaths, becoming active in another Christian congregation. But in 1984, after forty-six years, he heard that an anti-Mormon film would be shown in his village.
On the appointed day and hour, I sat in the community club watching people line up to see the film, feeling very disgusted and depressed that a church with so much good would be publicly attacked.
As I sat in this depression, I suddenly felt the presence of my father and mother who had been dead these many years. I broke down, unable to control my tears, and surprised my fellow club members by standing up and going home.
The night was miserable and sleepless for me, and the next morning was worse. I knew I needed divine help to escape the darkness surrounding me, and I started a fast in which I begged Heavenly Father to help me.
When I broke my fast, I felt an indescribable relief and joy: Heavenly Father impressed my heart with both the admonition and the courage to return to his church, my church, the church of my father and mother.
On Sunday I dressed in my best clothes and walked to the chapel. The Saints were as surprised to see me as my former church members were bitter to see me go. I have not missed a Church meeting since. So many blessings have come to my family after I “reconverted.” Often I reflect upon the strange circumstances that led me into serious reflection about the Church, that made me feel the closeness of my deceased parents, and that gave me the impetus to seek the witness of the truth through fasting and prayer.

It’s a little different growing up in the Middle East. In Saudi Arabia there’s not a big Young Women program, because the foreign families who make up the branch often send their high-school-age girls off to boarding schools in Europe or the U.S.
But thanks to a special project, the girls will never forget that they are to “stand for truth and righteousness.” Before each girl leaves, she receives a quilt. Each square has been made by one of her classmates and has something to do with the Young Women values. Mothers and daughters worked together for hours to piece and sew the quilts together.
“Our prayers and encouragement have gone off with these quilts and girls,” says Debby Gibson, a YW adviser. They’ve got the girls covered.

I was blessed to gain my testimony of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints when I was very young. I vividly recall talking with my mother one Sunday night as she sat next to the bathtub in which my younger brother Stuart and I were bathing. That tells you how young I must have been, because I didn’t mind sharing my bath with Stuart.
Earlier in the day, my Sunbeam teacher had taught me about the celestial kingdom. Somehow, I got the idea that getting into the celestial kingdom would be very difficult. That made me worry that I might not qualify. Sitting there in the tub that night, I looked up and asked my mother, “Will I go to the celestial kingdom?” I remember her serious, confident look as she said, “Yes, you will.”
Mother responded so surely that it made me wonder if getting into the celestial kingdom was easy. I decided to test her on this point. I asked, “Will Stuart get in?” “Yes,” she replied, “Stuart will too.”
Mother was right about Stuart. He is my parents’ bishop and a wonderful husband and father. Stuart is on track for the celestial kingdom.
I am trying to stay on track as well. My testimony of the Church hasn’t faltered since Mother first told me that it is true.