Gospel Story Finder

It started just about like any other spring day in Louisville, Kentucky. Thinking back now, it did seem just a bit warmer, perhaps more humid than usual. Philip Matthews, a 15-year-old teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood, felt that his hair was getting just a little bit too long. As he looked in the mirror he decided to visit the barber shop several blocks away.
His father asked if he would like a ride, and the two of them headed from their home to the barber. Phil sat back in his seat and relaxed, looking sleepily out of the window.
Suddenly he was wide awake. Doing his best to point the direction, he asked excitedly, “What’s that in the sky, Dad?” Brother Matthews, not able to see exactly what his son was pointing at, asked, “What?”
Then as Phil pointed excitedly, Brother Matthews saw it. It was a big mass of clouds. They were boiling and circling. It looked like a huge diesel engine with smoke pouring out of its pipe. Brother Matthews’ face turned white as he shouted, “It’s a tornado!” and he stopped the car suddenly.
The tornado crushed two houses and came right toward their car. Phil leaped out and shouted, “Hit the ditch!” But finding no ditch, he “decided my only hope was to run across the nearby schoolyard and enter the school building for protection.”
He doesn’t know how fast he was running, but as he crossed the yard, the wind nearly lifted him from the ground. “I just knew I had to reach the school.” Phil is a distance runner for his school, and perhaps his record-breaking running ability helped him get there in time.
As he approached the school, trees were falling and houses being smashed. Finally he made it to the building and tried to pull the doors outward, but they were locked. Now Phil knew that he must face the wind without protection. He doesn’t remember a time in his life when he was more frightened than he was as he stood in the terrible wind alone. Holding tightly to the door handles to keep from being blown away, he saw debris, shingles, and bricks spinning in the air about him. Small particles struck him in the face.
“I knew I needed special help. I know that the Lord heard my prayer of panic. As I stood there my mind centered on prayer. I asked the Lord to help me. Then it was like a miracle. When I prayed there seemed to come a great calm.”
A nearby tree crashed just missing him as it fell. The school to which he had come was demolished, only the area of the building where he stood went undamaged. The wind calmed somewhat, and Phil began to fear for his father. He ran back to the car, which was now in the churchyard.
“I was sure the car had been blown there,” Phil reported. “When I saw Dad get out of the car, I knew that he was all right. Then I just sort of went into shock. Dad came toward me, and as he got close I could see tears in his eyes as he looked at me. I sort of fell into his arms and we embraced. I repeated over and over ‘I was in it, Dad. I was out in it, Dad.’ Then we both looked around at the destruction that was around us. The chapel roof had been blown off and was behind our car.”
The terrible monster wind had taken its toll, but Phil and his father were spared. The two made their way home, taking detours to avoid fallen trees. They were greatly relieved when they found that the only damage to their home was two blown-off shingles. They entered the home and once again were reunited with their family.
There would be another day for a haircut.

Tyler loved having visitors. His family had signed up to help feed the missionaries, and tonight they were coming to dinner. Mom had promised that he could sit next to them.
At the table, Tyler felt shy and didn’t know what to say. He wanted to be a missionary someday, so he listened and watched carefully. He wanted to remember how missionaries act. He looked at their shiny shoes, white shirts, and straight ties. Then he noticed something on their shirt pockets. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing to Elder Snow’s pocket.
“My name tag,” Elder Snow replied, holding it up a little.
“‘Elder Snow,’” Tyler read. “‘The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.’ Do all the missionaries have name tags?”
“I think so,” the other missionary, Elder Millburn, replied. “We want everyone to know that we are missionaries for the Church.”
“I always make sure to put my name tag on,” Elder Snow added. “I want everybody to know that I believe in Jesus Christ.”
After the missionaries left, Tyler told Mom, “I’m going to make a name tag. I want to wear one so that people will know that I believe in Jesus Christ.”
Tyler cut a rectangle out of paper and carefully printed his name on it. Below his name, he wrote, “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” He taped a folded paper to the back of it to insert in his pocket to hold the name tag on. He went to the mirror to see how it looked.
First thing in the morning he thought about his name tag. Hurriedly he got dressed and put it on.
When Mom went grocery shopping, Tyler went too. He walked around, hoping that everyone saw his name tag. While they were going back to the car, it started to rain. He pushed the cart quickly and helped Mom load the car before they both got very wet. “Such a good helper!” she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.
At home he helped carry in the groceries. When he leaned over, he noticed that his name tag was torn and sagging. And rain had smeared the words. I need a better name tag, he told himself.
That afternoon, he cut a rectangle out of a plastic lid. He wrote his and the Church’s name on it with a marker so that the words wouldn’t wash away. He taped another piece of plastic to the back and stuck it in his pocket. He had a name tag again. Showing it to Dad, he said, “Just like the missionaries, I like to wear my name tag.”
Tyler went to show his big sister. She was studying at her desk and didn’t seem very happy.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, forgetting about the name tag.
“I have too much homework,” she moaned, “and it’s my turn to do the dishes.” She started writing again.
Tyler watched for a minute. “I’ll do the dishes.”
His sister looked surprised.
“My homework is all done,” he said. “I have time to do them.”
She gave him a hug and exclaimed, “You’re a great brother!”
Tyler did the dishes, but his shirt got wet and dirty. Pulling it off, he threw it in the laundry.
Getting dressed the next morning, he remembered his name tag and ran to the laundry room. His mother had already washed the shirt. She was putting it in the dryer. “Wait!” he yelled, pulling the shirt out of the pile. The name tag fell to the floor, twisted and warped. Tyler couldn’t make it lie flat. He threw it away. I’ll have to make something better, he told himself.
In the garage, Tyler searched for a thin wood scrap. Finding one just the right size, he went in the house to paint it. With a pointed brush he printed the letters. He made two holes in the wood with a hammer and nail, and put a piece of twine through them so that he could wear the name tag around his neck. When he took his shirt off, this name tag would stay put and wouldn’t get ruined. Tyler showed it to Mom and Dad. “Clever,” they told him.
Tyler wanted to show it to his best friend, Jason. He went outside and looked to see if Jason was in his yard next door. From the other direction, a boy on a tricycle whizzed by, laughing. His dog ran along beside him, barking in fun. It was little Jimmy from down the block.
Jimmy’s mother ran after him, calling frantically, “Stop! You’ve gone too far!” But Jimmy didn’t hear her, so Tyler raced to catch up with him. Grabbing the tricycle, Tyler gently pulled it to a stop and turned it around. He led Jimmy and his dog back to his mother.
“Thank you for stopping him,” she said. “He might have ridden into the street and been hurt. You’re a good neighbor!”
Tyler waved good-bye and headed back to find Jason. He reached for his name tag and stopped suddenly. It was gone! It must have fallen off while I was running, he realized. Searching, he finally found it, but the twine was broken and the name tag lay in pieces. It had been run over by the tricycle. Tyler walked home and laid the pieces on the table. “Jimmy ran over my name tag,” he told his mother, angrily. Then, with a big sigh, he said, “But I guess he didn’t mean to.”
A few minutes later, Tyler heard his father come home and ran out to tell him about the name tag.
“You know,” his father said, “not all missionaries wear name tags. When I was a missionary, we didn’t have name tags.”
Tyler was surprised. “How did people know you believed in Jesus Christ?”
“We told them,” Dad said. “And we tried to show them by the way we acted.”
That evening Tyler and his parents went to the stake center because one of his friends was getting baptized. During the meeting, a speaker talked about Jesus Christ. “If we try to live as He did,” the man said, “then people will know that we believe in Him.”
Tyler thought about that as they went home. Remembering what Dad had said, too, he suddenly knew what he could do.
“Mom! Dad!” he said excitedly. “There is a name tag I can wear that won’t get ruined or lost—an invisible one! If I try my hardest to live like Jesus Christ did, it’s like telling people I believe in Him. It’s like wearing an invisible name tag!”
Dad smiled. “You’re right, son.”
Mom hugged Tyler. “I’ve already seen your invisible name tag.”
“You have?” Tyler asked, looking down at his shirt.
“Yes, it’s been there,” replied his mother. “Each time you’ve been helpful and kind—like when you washed the dishes for your sister, and when you helped little Jimmy—your name tag was there.”
Tyler looked down again. He didn’t see the invisible name tag, but his mother had seen it. He hoped other people would see it, too, because he wanted everyone to know that he believed in Jesus Christ.

A few years ago following general conference, our four-year-old grandson Andrew asked his mother, “Mommy, is Jesus counting on me?” His mother answered, “Oh, yes, Andrew, Jesus is counting on you. He wants you to obey Mom and Dad, to do what is right, and especially to be kind to your little brother, Benny.” This four-year-old thought about that for a few moments and said, “Mommy, tell Him not to count on me!”
Fortunately, by the time Andrew receives the Aaronic Priesthood, he will have come to know that Jesus is counting on him.

On the other hand, those who can serve and don’t often have regrets. Take the case of the doctor who said, “In college I told my friends that my mission was to become a doctor. So while my classmates took two years out to serve the Lord, I continued my studies. Now, thirty years later, I have a different perspective on my life. Whereas I was able to relieve the physical suffering of people two years sooner than my friends who went on missions, they relieved the spiritual suffering. My medical relief lasted only a few years, but their spiritual relief will last throughout the eternities. There is no difference now in my medical practice and the practice of my friends who went on missions. I see now that I was short-sighted and selfish.”

Joanne, a young Church member, married a man who everyone thought was unworthy of her. He was addicted to alcohol and reckless with money. Almost immediately, the marriage had difficulties. But Joanne seemed to possess the magic of being happy.
As the years passed, instead of becoming bitter and defensive, Joanne became even more patient. Her children were reared tenderly, and she taught them to be loving and kind with each other, with her, and with their father. Five of the eight went on missions and all were married in the temple. Miraculously, the year before her husband’s unexpected death, he accepted the gospel and was baptized.
What caused such a marvelous change?
Joanne’s sister says, “Joanne never allowed her children or anyone else to talk negatively about their father. Sometimes he would come home at two or three in the morning, and my sister would wake all the kids and say, ‘Your daddy is home! Come, kiss him, love him!’
“When the children grew older and questioned their father’s actions, she would say, ‘Honey, don’t judge your dad. He doesn’t have the gospel yet. All we can do is love him and forgive him. He is a good man, and he is head of this family.’”
But was she happy?
“To her family, to us, to everyone,” says Joanne’s sister, “she radiated happiness. But I’m sure she suffered. I also know how badly she wanted her husband to join the Church.”
Joanne talks about staying with a man many women would abandon:
“I never considered turning away from my love for and loyalty to my husband. He was a very good man, even though he did foolish things. He loved people. He helped others in need. We sometimes had a person, even whole families, live with us because my husband knew that they were out of work and needed someplace to go.
“We had great, genuine love in our family. I know that he loved me and the children and that he was proud of us. The good example of our children brought him into the Church. It was the happiest day of my life when he was baptized.” They were married twenty-eight years before that happened.

President Young knew of what he spoke. In Kirtland, several of the Twelve Apostles, including Witnesses to the Book of Mormon, and other leaders met in the newly dedicated temple to plan how to wrest control of the Church from Joseph Smith. It was a time when “the knees of many of the strongest men in the Church faltered.” [24]

Dissatisfied with the financial situation in the Church, they intended to renounce Joseph Smith as prophet and appoint David Whitmer instead. Brigham Young rose up, and in a forcible manner told them that Joseph was a prophet. “They might rail and slander him as much as they pleased, [but] they could not destroy the appointment of the Prophet of God.” [25]

Brigham later wrote, “During this siege of darkness I stood close by Joseph, and with all the wisdom and power God bestowed upon me, put forth my utmost energies to sustain the servant of God and unite the Quorums of the Church.” [26] Brigham had integrity.

Others did not. Eliza R. Snow observed at the time, “Many who had been humble and faithful to the performance of every duty. . . drank in the love and spirit of the world, [and] the Spirit of the Lord withdrew from their hearts.” [27] You don’t want to be in that company.

When Scouting becomes a family affair, good things happen. At a Court of Honor held recently in Hurricane, Utah, three brothers received their Eagle award—Deward, 18, Keith, 15, and Ronald Stout, 14. Their older brother, Dennis, is also an Eagle Scout. All are active in their priesthood quorums.
According to Scouting officials, the odds against four Eagles in one family are 52,000 to 1.
When the new Scouting program was introduced, Ronald was an 11-year-old Tenderfoot. He made up his mind then to become an Eagle. His enthusiasm was catching, and his brothers Deward and Keith began to work with him toward the same goal.
“We had a lot of fun earning those 24 merit badges,” says Ronald. “One thing I like about it is the happy memories we can look back on. Now my goal is to see how many more merit badges I can earn before I’m 18.”

“Hurry faster!” Mary Jane’s friends cried as they ran down the street.
“I’m coming. I’m coming,” Mary Jane yelled back, bending to put one more rock into the bulging pocket of her light blue apron.
For a nine-year-old girl in Wales in 1846, Latter-day Saint missionaries coming to town meant excitement. She and her friends had heard many terrible stories about the “Mormons.” Surely such people deserved to be pelted with stones.
As the three girls rounded a corner, they heard music. A small crowd was singing a familiar hymn. Mary Jane was a good singer, so she joined in after she caught her breath. She didn’t know all the words, but she enjoyed humming the melodies.
As the singing ended, Mary Jane followed the elders’ example and knelt to pray. One by one, the rocks fell from the pocket of her apron. When the prayer ended, Mary Jane’s friend picked up the rocks. “Let’s get them!” she said.
“No,” Mary Jane said quietly. “I want to listen to what they’re saying.”
She turned her eyes toward the missionaries and listened carefully. One of the elders said that a prophet named Joseph Smith had seen Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, in a grove of trees. Another explained why we are born on this earth. As Mary Jane listened, her friends slipped through the crowd and ran off to play. When the elders finished preaching, Mary Jane walked slowly home, thinking about all she had heard.
As the days passed, Mary Jane kept listening to the elders. She loved what she was learning about Heavenly Father. Her mother did not. She was so opposed to what the missionaries taught that she sometimes hid Mary Jane’s clothes or denied her food so she would stop going to church.
But Mary Jane loved the gospel more than ever. She had learned to pray, and her prayers for a testimony were answered. She wanted to be baptized. Finally on a cold December night, she was baptized in a frozen river. The elders had to use an ax to cut a hole in the ice. Even though Mary Jane’s body was very cold that night, her heart was warm. She knew that she had made the right decision.

In 1864, Joseph A. Young was called on a special mission to transact Church business in the East. His father, President Brigham Young, blessed him to go and return in safety. As he was returning, he was involved in a severe train wreck. “The whole train was smashed,” he reported, “including the car I was in to within one seat of where I sat, [but] I escaped without a scratch” (Letters of Brigham Young to His Sons, ed. Dean C. Jessee, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1974, p. 4).

In Primary, Pilar’s teacher, Hermana (Sister) Solana, told them how the prophets have said that we should try to be more like Jesus Christ by being kinder and more forgiving, and by treating others the way He would treat them. She asked the class to pick one day during the week and go through the whole day imagining what the Savior would do if He were there and then do it. They were to report on the results the following week. Today was the day Pilar had chosen to try the experiment.
When she first got up in the morning, she asked Heavenly Father to help her remember the experiment all day long. She was excited to see what difference it would make.
The first chance came as she waited at the corner for the bus that took her to school. When the bus came, everyone pushed and shoved up the steps in order to get a good place to sit or stand. Usually Pilar pushed and shoved along with the rest of the crowd, but today she decided that Jesus would not do that. She waited patiently for all the others to get on. As the bus made other stops, she smiled brightly at each new passenger and made room for him to pass her and move back into the bus. A few of them even smiled back.
When she got to school, she felt a bit sunnier inside than usual. Right away she noticed Juana, a girl whom nobody played with, standing by herself in a corner of the school yard. Thinking of the kindness of Jesus, Pilar went over by Juana and said, “Hola (Hello).”
Juana looked up. “What do you want?”
Pilar felt herself getting angry and wanted to storm away, then remembered that she was trying to act more Christlike. She quietly answered, “I was wondering if you’d like to play with me until class starts. I brought my jump rope.”
Juana’s face lit up. Her eyes sparkled, and she grinned the biggest grin Pilar had ever seen. They played happily until school started, and she noticed that Juana seemed happy all the rest of the day.
When school let out at one o’clock, Pilar walked down the block to her favorite corner stand, where she always bought a fried sweet-potato sandwich to eat while she waited for her bus. As she turned and walked toward the bus stop, she passed an elderly man she often saw. He lived in a cardboard box by the side of the road. She had hardly ever given much thought to him before, but today she reached down and handed him her sandwich.
“Muchas gracias, señorita (Thank you, miss),” he replied as she walked away. Somehow Pilar didn’t feel hungry at all on the way home.
When she got home from school, Mother was washing clothes in the big sink out back. Pilar offered to do the marketing. When she returned, she helped Mother cook chicken and rice for lunch.
After lunch, Pilar took a few mangos to an elderly neighbor lady. She decided to stay and visit, instead of rushing outside to play with her friends. When she got up to leave, Señora Acuña tenderly took her hand and held on tight for just a moment. As Pilar looked into her face and saw the love, tears of joy began to swell within her own eyes. So far, today had brought Pilar more happiness than any day she could remember.
Later that night, however, her happiness turned to anger when she walked into her bedroom and saw her younger brother, Ricardo, accidentally knock her favorite vase to the floor. It broke into hundreds of pieces. She forgot all about the experiment. She screamed at Ricardo, then ran to tell her mother what had happened. Ricardo ran behind her crying, “Lo siento, lo siento (I’m sorry, I’m sorry).” But Pilar was so upset that she didn’t care how many times he said that he was sorry.
Her mother swept up the pieces and took Ricardo to the other room. Pilar sat on the bed, angry and in tears. Up till then, she’d felt so good that day!
Why did this have to happen? she asked herself.
A little while later, Pilar heard a soft knock at her door. “Pasa (Come in),” she mumbled gruffly.
In came Ricardo with a small vase in his hands. Pilar recognized it as the one he had made that year in school. She knew how proud he was of it and how he had planned to save it forever. He gently handed it to her. Her heart began to ache as she realized that forgiving Ricardo was what Jesus would do. She set the vase on her desk, smiled at Ricardo, and said, “Thank you, Ricardo. Let’s go outside and see if we can find some flowers to put in it.”
The next Sunday, when it was her turn to report on the experiment, Pilar recounted the things that had happened. She told Hermana Solana and the class that the thing that surprised her the most was how happy she had been.
That night as she prayed, Pilar promised Heavenly Father that she would try to live more like Jesus every day, just as the prophets have said that we should.

During the months that followed we visited the old shepherd often. He wandered far with his sheep and sometimes we had to drive atop a mesa and scan the country for miles to find him. Every visit was precious because we had to make sacrifices and do a lot of walking so we could save up the mileage to drive to see him.
We had no place to sit and talk with him because his shack was too small. At first we would just sit on the tailgate of our truck. When the weather was too cold, we would crowd inside the cab. We started out very slowly. I knew just a little Navajo, and he knew about the same amount of English. Sitting on the tailgate, I would point to a tree and say, “Tree.” He would point to the same tree and say the word in Navajo. I would point at a dog and say, “Dog.” He would point and tell me the Navajo word. We would both repeat the new word. Little by little I learned enough Navajo, and he learned enough English for us to communicate.
We gradually got to know him. We found out that his name was Peter Wolley. The name had been given to him when he served in the army during World War II. After a number of visits, we began to teach him the gospel. I felt the influence of the Spirit very strongly as we talked. My Navajo was not fluent, yet at times I felt inspired to use certain Navajo words that I didn’t think I knew. Even though I couldn’t communicate clearly, he seemed to know the truth of the things I was telling him.

The key to having a nice test in the waiting is to be an active waiter instead of passively enduring. Active waiting invites cheer; passive waiting is gloom and doom. We are active waiters when we do the things Christ did, even in the most trying moments. The early Saints, at the end of their time in Nauvoo, found themselves once again waiting and wondering when they would live in Zion, when they would actually get to not only finish building a house of the Lord, but also worship in it regularly.

The sisters of Nauvoo were active waiters as they packed only a few of their belongings, did a final sweep of their floors, closed their doors, and headed west. [21] They swept the floors!? They knew their homes would be overrun by mobs taking advantage of their hard work, yet they paused to sweep the floors. The early Saints are a marvel to me, especially when I think that I live five minutes from what will soon be two of the Lord’s houses—on the same street. The early Saints set an example of active waiting. What is the Spirit prompting you to do in your waiting?

I was just finishing my farm work when Mom called. The cows had been taken to the pasture, and the rabbits, chickens, pigs, and horses were all fed. The three cans of milk were on the trailer ready to be taken to the dairy.
I was fifteen years old then, and it was 1936, one of the hard years for our big family of thirteen. One of my brothers was on a mission, and eight of us were in school. The rest were home keeping Mom busy.
Mom said, “Jay, I’ll have to keep you out of school today so you can get a ride to the PFE shops where your father is working. I must get this letter to your father. It’s very important or I wouldn’t ask you to do it.” The Pacific Fruit Express shops were repair stations for railroad engines and cars. My father worked there to help support the family financially.
Mom handed me the envelope. It must have been a very important letter to justify keeping me out of school even for one day. “I’m sorry to do this, Jay,” she said, “but there isn’t any other way to get this letter to him.” She couldn’t telephone Dad because there were no telephone lines to our farm.
The place where Dad worked was about twenty-four kilometers away. I walked three kilometers to the highway in the beautiful, early summer air and soon had a ride to the next town. After walking through town, I got another ride that brought me to the dirt road leading to the gate of the PFE shops. I stepped out of the car, thanked the driver, and began the twenty minute walk to the gate, surveying as I walked the place Dad had so often talked about—the place that made him so dirty and so tired, the place of work that Mom had said was so important to our large family.
With new understanding I thought, This is why Dad is only with us evenings and Saturdays and Sundays. This is why it’s Mom who teaches us how to milk cows, to stack hay and grain, to irrigate the crops, to harness the team and make fences, to build hen houses and all the other things that must be done on a farm. This is also why Mom is so good at teaching us the gospel and telling us Bible and Book of Mormon stories while we work with her. Dad was here. And his work was important and hard.
As I came to the gate, I could see large buildings on both sides of the many railroad tracks. The noise of the railroad cars banging into each other as they were hooked together was loud. There was also noise from steam engines, signal bells, horns, and men working with air hammers and other railroad equipment.
Suddenly a loud siren sounded, and all the other noise went away. It was noon—lunch time. Men appeared from all over and I could hear hundreds of voices. How will I ever find Dad in all of these people? I wondered.
I went through the gate and walked toward the closest work area I saw, thinking I might find someone there to ask for directions. There were big stacks of materials and equipment around an open area. As I looked across the clearing, I recognized Dad immediately. I stopped and stood still and it felt as if there were not another person in sight. In a world of our own, it felt as if it were just Dad and me, and I will always be grateful for what I saw. Dad was sitting on the ground with his back to one of the stacks of materials, his legs stretched out, and his hat by his side. With his lunch box between his knees, hands folded in his lap, and head bowed, he was speaking thanks to God for what He was giving him—and for many other things, I’m sure because of the time it took and the feeling I had as I saw him praying. I stood silent and watched intently while the message sank deep within me: There’s nobody here for him to prove anything to. Dad really does believe. When he finished and looked up, he saw me at once. A humble smile spread over his face, and as I approached him tears filled his eyes. “Well, Jay, it’s so nice to see you,” he said. “Come and sit down, son.”
To this day, I don’t know what the message was that I delivered to Dad, but I’ve never forgotten the one he gave me.

Swimming, like football, is not a mission activity, yet Mark McGregor knew he must stop swimming for the entire two years of his mission. A freestyle swimmer on the BYU swim team, Mark had every intention of returning to the team, and he kept in good physical condition by following the exercises outlined in the missionary physical fitness program, along with an arm exercise especially for swimmers.
In high school Mark had been selected high school All-American. The year prior to his mission he set the BYU school record and won the Western Athletic Conference championship in the 200- and the 500-meter freestyle. While he was gone, his record for the 200 meter was broken.
“The hard part about being away from swimming,” says Coach Tim Powers, “is that the records get faster while you’re away.” Mark couldn’t just come back and regain his old speed—he had to do better. And he is, doing better much to the inspiration of fellow teammates who are considering going on missions. Since returning, he has rewon the school record for the 200 meter freestyle and broken his old record in the 500 meter (although that school record is now held by teammate John Sorwich). Mark has another year at BYU, and he and his coach are looking forward to what it will bring.
Do these athletes feel that they are better for having served a mission? The answer is unanimous—yes! As Mark McGregor put it, “There are many similarities between the mission field and athletics, especially regarding the mental attitude. A positive mental attitude is imperative in both. I learned a lot about what it takes to gain this positive mental attitude in the mission field, and it has had a beneficial effect on my swimming.”
Although some missionaries do return and do not continue in sports, it is usually due to a change in interests rather than inability. Ed, Mark, and Lance are convinced that any athlete who serves a mission will be able to regain his previous ability upon diligently applying himself.

In those days I often recalled a childhood memory. When I was a boy, The Ed Sullivan Show was one of the most popular programs on television. As a variety show, it featured performers with widely divergent talents. One performer was a man who appeared regularly. Many poles, perhaps a dozen or more, were set up on stage with stacks of dinner plates beside them. This agile individual would spin a plate on top of one of the poles, then move to the next pole and spin a second plate, and then a third and a fourth. As he proceeded down the line of poles, the rotation of the plates on the first and second poles would begin to slow, and the dishes were in danger of falling off and crashing to the floor. Seeing this, the man would quickly run back to those poles and, with a gentle spin, increase the motion that allowed the plates to keep spinning. The excitement of the act was to witness the ability of the performer to expand the number of rotating plates while not letting any fall. Invariably, a point would be reached at which he was not able to keep up. There was a limit to his ability to increase the number and properly care for the plates already in motion. The sight of dishes sliding from their precarious perches and the cacophony as they hit the hard floor vividly proved the point that even the most skilled performer has his limits.

Knowing how to organize a service project, plan a youth conference, or work with the service and activities committee isn’t going to be a problem for the youths of the Pleasant Hill Ward, Walnut Creek California Stake. A day-long leadership conference for class presidencies, advisers, and the ward bishopric was held recently beneath beautiful redwood trees in the Oakland Hills.
Stress was placed in four areas: conducting meetings, delegating responsibilities and then following up, working with advisers, and understanding the purpose of the service and activities committee. Those leading the workshops made it clear that they were there to guide and encourage but not to lecture.
After discussing basics, the participants divided into small groups to practice delegating responsibilities for a sample party. They were “criticized” by their group, received a “second chance,” and “phoned” for follow-through experience. In addition, youths and adults practiced agenda writing and planned the calendar of activities for the coming year.
But it wasn’t all work. Following the workshops time was set aside for softball, volleyball, and horseshoes. The day concluded with inspirational talks by ward and stake leaders together with testimonies from those participating in the conference.

“It’s my turn to play with the ball!” Seth said. “Your turn is up.”
“No, it’s not!” Adam hugged the ball. Tears filled his eyes. “You always get to play with it longer than I do!”
The ball was from Aunt Jill. It bounced very high. It lit up when it hit the floor. It was their favorite toy from Christmas.
It was hard for Seth to share. It was hard for Adam to share.
Seth frowned. It felt like he was all scrunched up inside. He didn’t like the way he felt.
Then Seth thought about something. His Primary teacher said making good choices can help us feel good inside. She said making a bad choice can make us feel bad inside.
Am I making a bad choice? Seth wondered.
Maybe fighting with his brother wasn’t a good choice. But how could he be kind to Adam and still get to play with his favorite ball?
Seth had an idea. His angry face turned into a happy face.
“Hey, why don’t we play with it together?” Seth asked. “We can bounce it to each other.”
Question for You
How can you be kind when you are playing?
“OK,” Adam said. “That sounds fun!”
Adam bounced the ball to Seth. Seth laughed and bounced it back.
Lights flashed across the floor. Seth felt lighter inside too.

A little initiative on their part netted four missionaries in Albuquerque, New Mexico, more than 70 referrals in two weeks and enabled them to place 100 copies of the Book of Mormon.
This outstanding work took place during the annual New Mexico State Fair, according to Elder Randy Smith from Elk City, Oklahoma, and Elder David Dorton of Lehi, Utah.
“We printed up an invitation for people to visit our display during the fair. We said if the person would bring us the invitation, we would provide him with a copy of the Book of Mormon,” Elder Smith said. Copies of the invitation were distributed throughout their tracting area, and many people responded.
“Man’s Search for Happiness” was shown throughout the fair. Another set of missionaries and several seventies helped to man the display. “That way we could continue to teach our contacts,” Elder Smith said.
The 70 referrals received at the fair came from persons living in various parts of the state and were forwarded to the proper mission homes.

Through EnglishConnect, Haustia Rocha Ballam took responsibility for her education as she increased her testimony of the gospel.

“Don’t give up on your dreams,” says Haustia, who completed a degree through BYU–Pathway Worldwide.

Photograph courtesy of BYU–Pathway Worldwide
Haustia Rocha Ballam wanted to learn English so she could pursue a university degree through BYU–Pathway Worldwide. As a new member of the Church, she also wanted to learn more about the gospel. EnglishConnect was her ticket to do both.
“I did not speak English,” recalls Haustia, from Bahia, Brazil. “I could only say ‘Hi’ and ‘How are you?’”
Haustia says she will always remember her first EnglishConnect in-person gathering, where she wondered if she would ever expand her English beyond simple greetings. That changed when one of the service missionaries bore his testimony at the end of the gathering.
“I was not understanding anything during the class, but I understood everything he said because I felt the Spirit,” she says. “That helped me not to give up. When I left the gathering, I was so happy, with determination to learn English and to keep studying with EnglishConnect.”
Photograph courtesy of BYU–Pathway Worldwide
With that determination—and a lot of hard work, prayer, and faith—Haustia overcame her shyness and fear. She learned gospel principles “that helped me take responsibility to become what I want to be in the future.” And she became a “lead student,” making lifelong friends, helping others, and gaining confidence.
After EnglishConnect, Haustia continued to BYU–Pathway Worldwide, where she completed foundational courses (called PathwayConnect) and then a bachelor’s degree online in applied health from Brigham Young University–Idaho. She said her education has opened doors to many job opportunities. Today she works in health-related customer support.
“When we learn English and learn about the gospel at the same time, Heavenly Father helps us by giving us revelation to learn,” she says. “I would tell new students, ‘Don’t give up on your dreams. Embrace this incredible opportunity to study through EnglishConnect and BYU–Pathway Worldwide. It will bring you important opportunities to achieve your educational and spiritual goals.’”

It was in that moment that I remembered back to when I was six. We had opened our front door one December night and were completely overwhelmed by the bags of gifts so generously placed on our doorstep. Our house was much warmer than usual that night because my father had been given firewood earlier that day. As a family of nine, we were barely making ends meet. That year especially, I could sense my parents’ uneasiness about Christmas day. I was limited to requesting only one toy. I had carefully chosen to ask for a “Peaches and Cream” Barbie doll, and I placed a torn-out newspaper picture of the doll up on the refrigerator. With my six-year-old heart and mind, I knew my one wish would come true.
Before heading off to bed, we knelt as a family on our old green carpet and gave a prayer of thanks for the few things that we did have. I remember going to bed feeling hungry. Each day food was practically the same—Cream of Wheat, oatmeal, or biscuits. I prayed that tomorrow—Christmas—would be different.
I snuggled in my blankets, and just as my eyes were about to close, I heard a muffled knock at the door. I followed the members of my family downstairs. As the door opened, an overwhelming feeling took over my little body. There were big black bags of gifts and food placed at our doorstep. I was so happy that I couldn’t believe my eyes. I said a whispered prayer of thanks, and I knew that my prayers that night had been heard. We carried the gifts inside and placed the bags of gifts under the tree.
Sleep did not come easily that night, but I managed a few hours before my sister Mary woke me. We eagerly ran downstairs, and to my eyes, it was as if the gifts had multiplied overnight. They were scattered around our tree. I again thought to myself about the one wish I had made. I picked up a gift that had “Meg” written on it, and I opened it carefully. I pulled out the most beautiful “Peaches and Cream” Barbie that I had ever seen. I hugged her, and I knew that I had not been forgotten. I learned several years later that my prayers were answered through the loving hands of those who generously helped out needy families.