Gospel Story Finder

One night when the elders came to the Cantos home, Pedrito was unusually ill. The elders felt prompted to discuss the principle of priesthood administrations. The family eagerly sought a blessing for Pedrito, who was so thin you could see the bones under his skin. Up until then, he had been unable to tolerate any food except milk. He could neither walk nor talk, and he rarely slept more than an hour or two at a time.

The elders administered to the child and left the house with a strong feeling that he would recover.

From that time on, Pedrito began to improve. The Cantos family were baptized, and the welfare services missionaries helped Sister Cantos get Pedrito started on solid foods. He began to gain weight, and for the first time in his life, he slept through the night. He also learned to walk and talk. The frequent, costly trips to Guayaquil were no longer necessary.

On my first Sunday in a new ward, I was overwhelmed with gratitude when I left Relief Society feeling actual relief!
For a few years before, I had struggled to feel like I was connecting with other sisters at church. I often felt out of place and lonely in Relief Society, but I was at a loss over how to improve my situation.
Camille N. Johnson, Relief Society General President, describes relief as “the removal or lightening of something painful, troubling, or burdensome, or the strength to endure it.” In this new Relief Society, my loneliness and stress lessened, and I felt resolve to carry on through my personal trials. I felt rest.
Over time, I observed that it was a few Christlike individuals in this ward who significantly impacted the atmosphere of Relief Society and made it a loving and accepting environment. They had three things in common they each did to help others feel welcome and comfortable in our meetings, and their examples inspired me to do the same. I eventually came to see that I had more influence over my and others’ experiences at church than I had previously thought.
Consistently attending ward activities, getting to know others, and sharing your thoughts in lessons will not only help you feel a sense of belonging but will also have an impact on those around you. The individuals I mentioned earlier were consistent. I was willing to attend Relief Society and ward activities because I could count on them to be there and knew they would continue to embrace me. Through your consistency, you may become a lifeline for someone without even knowing it—like these individuals were for me.
Those who have consistently reached out to me at church have taught me what it looks like to be an answer to prayer and a Christlike ministering sister. Their examples have inspired me to do my part in making Relief Society a place of true relief.

I knew we are all supposed to share the gospel, but I had never had any success. Then, during a Spanish course I was taking, I met a young man named Tiago. We became friends and often walked home from school together. One day we passed an LDS chapel that had recently been built.
“I have been a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for several years,” I said. I shared with him some of the things that we believe, and told him how much my family and I have been blessed because of the gospel. I invited him to attend meetings that coming Sunday at 9:00 a.m.
Sunday arrived and I anxiously waited, but he did not come. During the week, I invited him again. This continued every week for two or three months. He always gave me a reason why he hadn’t shown up: “I slept late,” “I was tired,” “There were problems.” But I kept asking him anyway, and he didn’t seem to mind.
One Sunday morning I sat down on one of the benches toward the back of the chapel. There were still a few minutes to go before the meeting began when someone quietly called my name. I looked toward the door, and there was Tiago!
“Didn’t I promise you I would come one day?” he said. He attended sacrament meeting, and to my surprise, stayed for the rest of the meetings and seemed pleased when I introduced him to the missionaries. He began meeting with them regularly. Tiago and I continued to talk as we walked home from school, but our conversations were about the truths he was learning. I was able to answer questions and bear my testimony. Finally, he gained a testimony of his own and joined the Church.
Today I am a full-time missionary in the Brazil Santa Maria Mission. Before I left for the mission field, Tiago also submitted his application to be a full-time missionary, and he is now serving in the Brazil Manaus Mission.
I recently received a letter from him. “Thank you for inviting me again and again to come to church,” he wrote. “I will be eternally grateful.” I am happy not only to share the gospel each day but also to know that Tiago is doing the same.

Johan and Lisa Koch of Copenhagen could tell them about the long-term rewards of setting the right priorities. The Kochs joined the Church as a young married couple in 1968 and reared their seven children in the Church. In 2004 when they served as guides during the open house for the Copenhagen temple, a man who had gone to school with one of their sons came on a tour. “I had to come,” the man explained, “because I know Christian, and I know what it would mean to him.”
The Kochs first went to the temple in Switzerland many years ago, and they set an example for their family by serving as temple workers when that meant an eight-hour trip to Stockholm. They kept a picture of the temple on a wall in their home. They used every resource to help their children grow strong in the gospel, including family prayer, home evening, and home-study seminary.
After years of having to travel outside their country, “to have a temple so close is a special blessing,” Sister Koch says. Her husband, who was released as president of the Copenhagen stake in 2001, sees the coming of the temple as a sign of growing maturity among members. But the Kochs are also impressed by its effect on those who are not members. When they talked of sealing during the open house tours, Brother Koch says, “you could tell which couples had a good marriage by the way they looked at each other. They would ask, ‘Could we do that?’”

On a ski trip to a large resort, some friends and I decided to split up and check out the various runs. We planned to meet later for lunch and compare notes on the runs for the afternoon.
I rode several lifts and enjoyed different runs. It was a glorious day. A storm had just passed, and everything was fresh and white.
I traversed the mountain to a run which is used less frequently than others. It had a very long ski lift and there were few people in line. I was alone on my chair and I stretched my arms across the back of the chair to enjoy the sensations of the morning. The world seemed a very friendly place. The bright sun shone in a deep, blue sky. The trees were dark, almost black, and contrasted with the brilliant white of the snow. Now and then I passed over tracks made by a rabbit or some other small animal. The sun was pleasant on my face, and the cold, bracing air felt good in my lungs. I took long, deep breaths and involuntarily broke into a wide grin.
I was enjoying all that was around me and wished for someone to share it with. Then I thought of my Heavenly Father. It was through his plan that I’d come to this earth to enjoy these things. I thought of his love and concern for me and felt I should express my gratitude to him. I prayed aloud. I told Heavenly Father how good it was to have a physical body that I could exercise and sense the beauties of this world with. I told him how I felt about the colors around me, and the great feeling of the warm sun mixed with the cold air. I told him that I loved him and was happy that he loved me enough to give me these things.
I had been praying to express my happiness to my Heavenly Father, but I also realized that my prayer was an attempt to make him happy. I thought of my earthly parents and how they enjoy hearing about the fun, exciting things of my life. Wouldn’t it gladden my Father in Heaven to hear about my joy?
The rest of that day was very special. I spent much of it sharing with my Heavenly Father the things around me. The more I shared the more I appreciated. It was wonderful to know I had found another way to express my love for him.

The next year, Christmas was not so happy. We sat around solemn-faced after opening our presents. Finally Ron said, “Let’s go get wood.”
Nothing more needed to be said. We all got our coats, hats, and gloves and headed out the door. Again we were getting wood for a widow. But this time it was our mother. It wasn’t that we needed the wood; it meant something deeper. Two weeks before Christmas my dad had died. He left seven children to be raised by my mother.
I suppose because of one act of kindness and the lessons my dad taught his boys, he assured that his wife would never go without wood. We not only got wood for our mother, but often we would get it for other widows. On many Christmases, after we opened our presents, my brothers and I would go out and cut wood for one of the widows. Though it was never spoken openly between us, we were all doing it in memory of our father.

Recently the Philadelphia Pennsylvania Stake held a fathers and sons’ outing to commemorate the 148th anniversary of the restoration of the Aaronic Priesthood. The outing was held in a wooded campground only a few hours drive from the spot where the priesthood was actually restored. Over 200 attended the event that started Friday afternoon at 4:00 P.M. and lasted through the next day until 3:00 P.M.
The games, food, and fellowship were all good activities, but the main event was the lesson learned from the service project. The boys and their fathers all pitched in to help Wally, the camp ranger, clean out the debris accumulated through the winter in the creek bed so the stream could run clean. They also helped get the campground ready for the summer season. Stake President R. D. Jess said, “The boys learned that they could have fun and do a good turn all at the same time—a good lesson for anyone.”
The stake presidency was especially pleased to see so many men and their sons with nonmember neighbors and friends. Brother M. Soto, first counselor in the Spanish-speaking North Philadelphia Branch, had a group of boys with him from families who are investigating the gospel. And the men of the stake took their responsibility a little further and brought boys who did not have fathers who could come with them. More than one father took the boys they home teach.
The camp had lean-to shelters for 50 bedrolls, with a campfire set in front of each shelter. Tent trailers and tents accommodated the rest in the same area, and that evening you could count as many as 20 fires at once.
Each ward put on a skit for entertainment that evening. Everyone sat out on the lawn by the campfire in front of a makeshift stage of canvas strung on a rope between two trees. The young men decided that President Jess needed to be involved. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be measured for a coffin or simply play the part of the radiator on the people car. He soon found out that he would get wet either way.
After the skits, a full-length feature movie was shown in spite of the fact that the wind blew the screen down several times. A midnight snack was then served before the bugler John Dorny, Broomall First Ward deacons quorum president, blew taps. Hot chocolate and doughnuts warmed everyone so that even the fathers were ready to face the night in sleeping bags on boards in the shelters or on the ground in tents.
The next day began with reveille at 7:00 A.M. Breakfast was served by members of the Order of the Arrow. A local farmer had sold them whole, fresh, unprocessed milk. It had stayed cold through the night, and it was the favorite item on the menu.
The morning’s activities included hiking, racing, catch ball, basketball, softball, kickball, and touch football.
The Order of the Arrow also served lunch, and after eating, everyone was ready to get into the service project. That afternoon as the campers left the area, the ranger said he would like to have this group back next year.

Another memory taught me more about the value and importance of fulfilling a mission.

A few years ago, while serving as president of the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah, I had a delightful visit with one of the missionaries who came into my office. He was obviously older than the average young elder. He was about twenty-five years of age. He told me of his conversion.

When he was sixteen, he was baptized into the Church in Europe along with his mother. His father did not object to his wife’s and son’s joining the Church, even though he was not interested. He was a banker and wanted his son to prepare himself for a profession in the same area.

The young man loved studying the scriptures, but occasionally had some difficulty when his father would interrupt him when he was studying his seminary course and say, “Don’t waste your time studying those things. Study your regular school courses so that you can be accepted at the university.”

The elder said, “One night later on, when I was about eighteen, I had a dream. I dreamed that I had been called on a mission to Japan. I felt so good about it. I really wanted to go. The next day, when I told my parents about my dream, my dad strongly objected. He said, “Oh, no! Don’t waste two years of your life on a mission. You need to get on with your university studies.”

Since he was too young to leave for a mission at that time anyway, he did go on with his university studies. He chose to come to Brigham Young University. He majored in finance and banking for his undergraduate degree and stayed to complete a master’s degree in business administration.

He was hired by an international banking firm in Germany and was doing very well as a promising junior executive, but the idea of filling a mission would not leave his mind, and so he went to visit with his bishop and stake president. When he told his stake president of the vivid dream he had years before about going on a mission to Japan, his stake president chuckled and said, “Well, I don’t think you will be going to Japan. Missionaries from here generally are called to some other country on the continent, and a few go over to the British Isles.”

When he received his call and his father heard of it, he came and tried to change his son’s mind because he thought that a two-year interruption would be a disaster for his son’s professional career. One of the bank executives came down from Frankfurt and tried to discourage him from leaving, saying something like, “My boy, do you know how much this will cost you in salary and opportunity loss? You ought to sit down and figure it out.”

The elder said that he did that, and he had determined that the mission would cost him a very large amount of money—more than 150,000 dollars. Then tears came to his eyes, and he said, “But President, if it were to cost several times that amount, I would still be here, because I know that serving a mission is what the Lord wants me to do.”

That elder was one of the few I remember who left the Missionary Training Center speaking what Japanese he had learned with a German accent. He was called to Japan. He served a successful mission, and I am confident that when he finished he found many international businesses that would like to hire a junior executive who can speak English, German, and Japanese—the major languages of the economic free world. Even if he didn’t earn an extra cent, he still knew that he had done what the Lord wanted him to do.

It was a hot summer day in southern California, and I was a typical teen enjoying my summer by sleeping late. I was getting out of bed when the doorbell rang. I raced my mom to the door. We were both surprised by a group of 10 to 15 teens my age.
They greeted us with a smile and explained that as part of a youth conference they were on a service scavenger hunt for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. They showed us a list of services and asked my mom to check off the items on the list they could do. My mom did, and they were soon busy pulling weeds, washing windows, and mowing our lawn. It was fun watching them all work together.
When the chores were complete, you could tell they had worked hard by the sweat on their faces and the dirt on their hands, but they looked pleased with the work they had done and thanked us for the opportunity to serve.
My mom offered them a big tip, but they refused. Feeling like they should not leave without us giving them something, I quickly ran into the house and returned with cold glasses of water.
After refreshing themselves, they asked if they could leave us with a song. As they sang “I Am a Child of God,” I felt a respect and love as you would for old friends, even though I had just met them.
I joined them for the next few houses, working side by side, feeling a sense of peace and acceptance. As I walked home, I was consumed in my own thoughts. I was in awe at how the youth were spending their day serving others.
I went straight to my room and wrote a thank-you letter for their service and how they had touched me. Without signing it, I put the letter and all the money I had, about $39, inside the envelope and drove to the church to tape it to the door.
From that day on, my life would never be the same. Not long after, I started spending time with youth in the Church and was touched spiritually by so many members helping me on my journey. Part of that journey was hearing the missionary discussions that led to my baptism a year later. Since that time, I have been married to a worthy man in the San Diego California Temple, and we have two beautiful daughters.

Rachel and Nathan also share a love for school—and the memory of how it feels to be the new kid. Three years ago, their family moved to Connecticut from Las Vegas, Nevada. Nathan quickly found a best friend who looks so much like him that people often think they are twins. He was also super excited about living where it snows, especially because his new front yard has a built-in sledding hill.
For Rachel, it wasn’t quite as easy. “By third grade, the kids at school already had all their friends,” she remembers. Finally she began making friends from other classes at recess. The children in Primary were very welcoming to both Rachel and Nathan.
Rachel is already in the Beehive class in Young Women. But her birthday is in January, so she is still in Primary for class time.
She used to feel sad that she didn’t get to go to Sunday School with the girls who were a few months older. One reason she feels better about it now is that her Primary class is studying the Doctrine and Covenants. “It’s really interesting, and that helps keep me from thinking about not being in Sunday School,” Rachel says.
Rachel is also happy that she can still be in Primary class with her friend Marissa. “If I had moved on completely, she would have been left in a class with no other girls,” Rachel says.
Her positive attitude fits right in with one of her favorite scriptures: “I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded” (1 Nephi 3:7).
Both Rachel and Nathan are kind and helpful. Rachel likes helping classmates who are having trouble with math. She hopes to be a teacher someday. And Nathan watches out for a boy in his class who has special needs. With kindness and hard work, these two great kids are right on target to make their dreams come true!

Being true also allows us to have a positive effect on the lives of others. I recently heard this inspiring story of a young woman who, through her commitment to be true to her beliefs, had a great impact on another young woman’s life.
Several years ago Kristi and Jenn were in the same high school choir class in Hurst, Texas. Although they didn’t know each other well, Jenn overheard Kristi talking with her friends one day about religion, their various beliefs, and favorite Bible stories. Recently, upon reconnecting with Kristi, Jenn shared this story:
“I felt sad that I didn’t know anything about what you and your friends were talking about, and so for Christmas I asked my parents for a Bible. I received the Bible, and I started reading it. This began my religious journey and my search for the true Church. … Twelve years passed. During that time I visited several churches and attended church on a regular basis but still felt that there was something more. One night I fell on my knees and begged to know what to do. That night I had a dream about you, Kristi. I hadn’t seen you since we had graduated from high school. I thought my dream was strange, but I didn’t attribute it to anything. I dreamed about you again for the next three nights. I spent time thinking about the meaning of my dreams. I remembered that you were a Mormon. I checked the Mormon website. The first thing I found was the Word of Wisdom. My mother had passed away from lung cancer two years previously. She had been a smoker, and reading about the Word of Wisdom really hit home with me. Later I was visiting my father’s house. I was sitting in his living room, and I started to pray. I asked to know where to go and what to do. At that moment a commercial for the Church came on television. I wrote down the number and called the same night. The missionaries called me three days later, asking if they could deliver a Book of Mormon to my home. I said, ‘Yes.’ I was baptized three and a half months later. Two years later I met my husband at church. We were married in the Dallas Temple. Now we are the parents of two beautiful little children.
“I wanted to thank you, Kristi. You set such a wonderful example throughout high school. You were kind and virtuous. The missionaries taught me the lessons and invited me to be baptized, but you were my third missionary. You planted a seed through your actions, and you truly have made my life better. I have an eternal family now. My children will grow up knowing the fulness of the gospel. It is the greatest blessing that any of us can be given. You helped bring that into my life.”
When I contacted her, Kristi shared: “Sometimes I think we hear the list of attributes that the thirteenth article of faith outlines, and we feel overwhelmed. However, I know that as we live these standards and strive to follow Christ’s example, we can make a difference. … I feel much like Ammon in Alma 26:3 when he says, ‘And this is the blessing which hath been bestowed upon us, that we have been made instruments in the hands of God to bring about this great work.’”

My grandparents didn’t have a lot of money. Grandpa and Grandma ate what they raised on their farm and worked hard to make ends meet. Grandma sewed temple burial clothes, and Grandpa sold subscriptions to a national magazine. Sometimes I went with Grandpa on his magazine-subscription visits.
Watching my grandparents and my mother, I learned to work very hard. From their example, I also learned the importance of paying tithing. Even though Grandpa and Grandma were very poor, they always paid a faithful ten percent tithing on everything they earned. During very difficult financial times, many neighbors lost their farms. Grandpa often said that he kept the farm because the Lord blessed him for being obedient and paying tithing.

It all started when President Searle called me into his office and asked me to be the chairman of the youth conference. He asked if I would accept the call, and I very quietly said yes. He and his counselor set me apart and gave me a blessing. I remember coming home and telling my parents. Then I sat on the couch just crying. Mom asked, “Why are you crying? This is a neat thing.” I just cried and cried. It felt so good to be needed. I hope each one of the kids realize how needed they are.
Charmaine Moncur poured out her feelings and frustrations in her journal as she and a dozen other youth leaders assigned to head a variety of committees worked to make the youth conference for the Los Angeles and Inglewood Stakes a reality. This youth conference was different than those held in past years. This youth conference would be planned and carried out by the youth themselves. They chose fellowshipping as the theme. Susan Cowley and Steve Young, the youth representatives invited to the first meeting about the youth conference, asked their leaders if the youth could take charge of the conference themselves. “I don’t think we knew what we were getting into,” said Charmaine.
The Inglewood and Los Angeles stakes in southern California have an interesting and diverse mixture of people. There are several Spanish-speaking wards, a Tongan ward, and wards from both the well-to-do and poorer sections of town. How to bring all these young people together? Where could they get to know each other and appreciate each other’s talents and personalities? Plus the youth conference must be located close to home. The youth looked west, off the coast just 20 miles, to an island visible on the horizon—Catalina Island. A ferry makes the trip several times a day. Other than one small town, the island is rugged and essentially unpopulated. They found an old school at a spot called Toyon Bay that would have facilities to accommodate the group. They would be together in a secluded spot away from telephones, television, and radios. It was perfect. It was a place to appreciate the beauty of the ocean and learn to love the other members of their stakes.
What can we do to get everyone together and excited about doing something close to home? We don’t want to just have workshops in one of the stake centers. I think we’ve found it. There’s an old school on Catalina Island that can handle this big a group. The ferry landing for the trip to Catalina is less than an hour away for most people. On an island we won’t lose people after one day whenthey don’t feel like coming back. On Catalina you can’t say, “I feel like going home, see you later.”
More than 350 young people signed up for the youth conference, including nonmember friends. The youth decided to organize the conference copying a stake organization. Stephen Tanner was asked to be the “stake” president. Charmaine and her counselors acted as the “stake” activities committee. Three “wards” were formed, and three “bishops” chosen, counselors for each were selected, and teachers from the ranks of the youth were asked to prepare lessons for Relief Society, priesthood, and Sunday School. Tournaments and games were to be played with the three Catalina “wards” in competition. Because everyone would be divided up, hopefully the mixture would produce new friendships.
Last night I met with my committee, Susan Cowley and Nicole Land. We sat for three hours discussing the activities for youth conference. How much work it is! I can’t believe that we’re to oversee this all and make it work. I am definitely getting to know my Heavenly Father through prayer. We went over all the materials we’ll need and all those who need to be called to help. It’s an endless list.
As the youth committees were called to help organize different aspects of the conference, the young people gained a new appreciation of the work their adult leaders had done in past conferences. As Dina Chatwin said, “Our adult leaders would sit in on our meetings. And when we were discussing problems, I guess we would have reactions just like they have had, and they would laugh. As people would call and cancel out on things they were asked to do, the leaders would just say, ‘Welcome to the real world.’”
As the planning progressed, the youth learned that they couldn’t do everything themselves. They had to learn how to delegate and ask for help. For Charmaine, this was a hard lesson to learn. In her journal she wrote:
It is so hard for me to ask for help. It is hard to admit I just can’t do it all. I called someone and told her I needed some things done. I called her back a week later, and she not only had those things done, but more. I sat down and cried. It’s good to know that someone cared enough to really help. I feel so much gratitude. The countdown has begun. Just eleven days until we board the boat. Although I’m frustrated and concerned, I wouldn’t trade this opportunity for anything. I know that I’m doing the right thing and that I was called for a reason. I alsoknow the Lord’s giving me the strength to keep planning, making calls, and thinking up new ideas. My love of the gospel has grown so much. But what a job!
At the last minute some big problems presented themselves. Youth leader Stephen Tanner, who had been working and planning the conference from the beginning, became extremely ill. He would not be able to make the trip. And then the weather wasn’t cooperating. Rain squalls had made the sea choppy. It was going to be a very rough ride across the channel to Catalina Island.
Rough was putting it mildly. No sooner had the ferry filled up with excited youth-conference-bound passengers than it was released from its moorings into a rolling, pitching ocean. The shoreline, outlined in lights in the twilight, rose and fell as the sturdy boat plowed through the rough water. The exuberance of youth was squashed as waves of seasickness seized those aboard and reduced them to hunched shapes crouched in their seats yearning for solid ground. Only a few avoided getting sick. The get-acquainted game planned for the ferry trip was a flop since everyone was more interested in keeping their stomachs calm than in getting to know the unfamiliar if slightly green faces of their companions. On the other hand, being seasick together had a cohesive effect. They had shared a common trial, and it was something to laugh and talk about. It was dark by the time the group landed at Toyon Bay, but after the rough crossing, they were only interested in getting their assignments and settling down for the night.
In spite of the problems, things were coming together. Just before boarding the ferry, Charmaine recorded her feelings about the day:
The big day is in just a few more hours. There’s so much to do still—materials I’ve forgotten and things to pack. It’s endless. Last night Nicole Land and I met and sorted through all of the candy which will be given as a final prize for the group competition. I think I ate half of it, but we had a good time sorting it. The general activity is organized, but the final day has a lot of rough edges still to be smoothed out.
I had a long talk with my mom, and I told her my feelings of how it has been for me and what I’ve learned. There have been some moments that I thought, “I can’t do this anymore,” and I’ve really struggled. At times I just said a prayer and went to sleep. But there have been times like whenI’m working with my committee that I’ll always remember and cherish. I’ve learned what it means to plan and organize a major activity, and it’s hard to do right. I’ve learned—and this is the most important thing for me—to say, “I need help,” and ask for it. That’s been something I needed to learn. It was hard for me to admit I’m not Super Teenager. It isn’t the same as being teachable—because I feel I am that—but it is something I’ve had to learn.
The next morning dawned bright and clear. The rains had stopped. It was a glorious day for snorkeling and exploring the undersea world just a few steps off the beach. Since the school was now a marine institute, it had plenty of snorkeling equipment. Shiny black wet suits and bright orange flippers were a common sight as the brave ones swam in the chilly water. Even though it was winter, the sun gave hints of the summer to come as youth explored the surrounding hillsides, climbed on rocks along the beach, and participated in activities designed to get to know each other as well as learn.
That evening everyone spent a little extra time getting dressed before they set the main hall rocking at a dance.
Even though activities and a dance occupied much of their time, the real experiences of a youth conference took place in diverse moments: getting to know a name to go with a new face, asking someone you don’t know to dance, struggling with team members to help your group come in first. One girl was standing to the side waiting for a game to get started and said, “Do we have to play?” Her friend turned to her and answered, “Of course we do; that’s what we came for, isn’t it?”
That’s what they came for, to participate, to get to know each other, and to learn more about fellowshipping. The meetings were conducted by the youth with youth assigned to prepare lessons and serve as teachers.
I love being on the planning committees. I love the excitement and getting to know the kids. But the testimony meeting is my favorite.
Charmaine was not alone in expressing her enthusiasm for the testimony meeting. Everyone looked forward to that special evening when the whole group sat down together and shared the things that meant the most.
One young Spanish boy told about being inactive and being involved in stealing and lying. He turned to the Lord for help and has come back to the Church. His major problems have been solved, and he is again establishing good family relationships.
Margaret Bishop of the Hollywood Ward, Los Angeles Stake, told how grateful she was for the closeness that had come between her and her sister. She said, “I know I am living a happy life because of the gospel. It’s the only way to go. It’s not just a religion; it’s a way of life, and I’m grateful for my life.”
Tracie Pressler of the Centralia Ward, Inglewood Stake, told about going through a hard time before coming to the youth conference. “But here,” she said, “I’ve grown to love people that I’ve never really known before.”
Sulin Fifita of the Lennox Second Ward, Inglewood Stake, said, “My testimony is very precious to me and no matter what happens to me no one will be able to take my testimony from my heart.”
Several more admonished their friends to never leave the Church because they will be lost. Others talked about coming back into activity. Some testified of their love of the Savior and of the prophet and added the testimonies of the truthfulness of the Church. It was a time when feelings and tissues for heartfelt tears were shared freely as an outpouring of emotion took place in the open-air plaza under an inky sky filled with stars.
The final day was time for group competition. Three big groups picked their representatives to join in relays, sand castle building, and races. Then they lined the sides of the playing field and cheered their fellow teammates on. Soon chants of “We’re number one” drowned out casual conversation. Everyone was caught up in the activity, because in just a few hours they would have to leave, board the ferry for the return to the mainland and the end of the Catalina Youth Conference. No one really wanted to go home.
I’ve come to really respect the Church leaders and respect the work they do for us. Today as everyone is playing games, no one is going to think, “I wonder how much work or how many phone calls went into the planning of it.” It will be just another game. Some will like it, and some will hate it. It’s amazing how much work and prayer and trust go into planning a conference like this. If I could say anything about it, I’d say it was one experience I’ll never forget. And it has been so valuable to my maturing and understanding. I have grown closer to many, but most importantly I’ve grown closer to my Father in Heaven. I know he’s been a constant companion, and without that I’d never have endured to the end.

The sixth month wore on with no baptisms in sight. The tenth of the month passed, and they were without anyone who would be ready.

“Sister Johnson invited us over for dinner tomorrow night,” Elder Anderson announced as they were heading home one evening after a floundering discussion.

“I hope you told her no,” Scott said grimly.

“Why?”

“It’d be a waste of time. A 60-year-old widow isn’t likely to have any referrals.”

“It’d be nice to have a home-cooked meal. Besides she doesn’t have many people visit her.”

“Tell the home teachers. It’s not our concern.”

“What is our concern?” his companion asked with an edge of tension in his voice.

“To find somebody to baptize this month.”

“We’re already leading the mission in consecutive baptisms. What do you want, another record to add to your string?”

“Why shouldn’t we succeed? We can do it if we work.”

“Okay, maybe we can. But there’s one thing that bothers me about you.”

“What’s that?” Scott asked defensively.

“You’re doing all this for your own glory—so you can be zone leader.”

They walked into their apartment and got ready for bed, hardly speaking to each other.

Just before prayers, Scott gave in. “Okay, I was wrong. We’ll have supper with Sister Johnson tomorrow night.”

Much to their surprise, Sister Johnson had an elderly lady with her who wanted to be taught so she could be baptized.

And she was before the end of the month.

Joseph Fielding Smith spent many hours riding his horse, Junie, and he took good care of her. After a ride, he always walked her and brushed her. At night he was careful to lock her in her stall in the barn.
But Junie was a smart horse. After Joseph left the barn at night, she used her nose and teeth to undo the strap that held the door of her stall shut.
Whenever she got out, she never ran away. Instead, she turned on the water tap in the Smith’s yard, then walked through the garden or across the lawn.
4. If Joseph heard the water running in the night, he knew that Junie had unlocked her stall—again. Joseph’s father teased him, saying that maybe the horse was smarter than Joseph.
5. Joseph’s father decided that he would lock Junie in so that she could not get out. He buckled the strap around the post and under a crossbar. “Young lady,” he told the horse, “let’s see you get out now.”
6. As Joseph and his father walked back to the house, they heard Junie walking along behind them. Joseph couldn’t resist asking his father who Junie was smarter than now!
7. Joseph Fielding Smith had a good sense of humor, and he enjoyed life. Many years later, when he became the tenth President of the Church, he encouraged other Church members to enjoy life.

One day Rosella and I were sitting next to each other during music class. We were practicing songs for the spring program when the intercom crackled and the principal’s voice asked the music teacher to please come to the office. The teacher told everyone to behave. He said he would be back in a minute, but he was gone a long time.
Some of the boys in the class began throwing wads of paper at the trash can on the other side of the room. Soon the floor was littered with paper.
One of the boys who was throwing paper looked at a boy named Alan and said, “Alan, look at that mess you made. You’d better go pick up those papers.”
Alan hadn’t thrown any paper at all, but he didn’t argue. He just nodded, got up from his chair, and began picking up the paper. It took him a long time because he picked up one wad at a time. Alan had crooked glasses, and his hair stood up in tufts all over his head. Something happened when he was born, and he didn’t get enough oxygen. Because of that he had a hard time learning. Sometimes he tripped or made mistakes. But he wanted to be friends with everyone, and he smiled a lot.
After Alan had picked up all the paper, he walked back to his chair. The other boys were all grinning. When Alan turned to sit down, one of them reached over and yanked the chair out from under him. Alan sat down on the floor. Hard. You could see it hurt him because tears came to his eyes. But when the boys all started laughing, Alan tried to laugh too.
The next thing I knew, Rosella was standing up. She marched across the room and stood in front of those boys, glaring at them. Then she reached out her hand and helped Alan get into his chair. The whole class was silent. She asked Alan if he was hurt, and he shook his head. Then she put her hands on her hips. “Being mean to people is a really chicken way of trying to be funny,” she told the boys.
They just looked at her. She didn’t sound mean or angry, but everyone knew she meant it.
Then Rosella turned around and walked back to her chair. The class was dead quiet. I wondered what the boys would do. They usually didn’t like being told what to do, especially by a girl. I kept hoping the teacher would come back before anything else happened. Then one of the boys looked over at Alan. “Sorry we yanked your chair,” he said.
Alan folded his hands together and smiled big. “It’s OK. I have friends.” He looked over at Rosella.
Just then the teacher walked in. No one said anything about the paper, and class continued as usual. When Rosella picked up her music, I could see that her hands were shaking, but she had a quiet look on her face.
Our class began practicing. I could hear the piano playing and the class singing, but I was thinking about Rosella. I was thinking about how she stood up for Alan even though she was probably scared. I looked at Rosella singing the song and then over at Alan. Then I understood—being brave doesn’t mean you’re not scared. Being brave means doing the right thing even if you are scared.

I would like to say that running made the last treatments easier, but it didn’t. I have had my last treatment, and it was the very hardest for me. It seemed like the effects were doubled. I felt like I was being raked through hot coals one more time and that someone had deliberately put twice the amount of coals on the fire.
During that last treatment, my father sat on my bed and put cold compacts on me. The treatment magnified everything. I didn’t want anyone to even touch me. Just being touched hurt. When my father put the compacts on me, I wanted to yell at him and tell him to take them off. But I could see in his eyes how helpless he felt. I realized how much he needed to feel that he was helping me in some way. It made me feel good deep inside to know that he was feeling better because he was helping me. Sometimes you have to take to give.

I decided to compete in a marathon with work colleagues in Western Cape, South Africa. I trained and worked very hard in preparation for the race.
On the day of the race, I woke up, read my scriptures, and prayed. I was nervous, but I also felt that I needed to trust in the Lord. I knew that if I did, He would provide sustenance and support.
We were required to walk or run 40 kilometers (25 miles). We started at 8:00 a.m. The weather was cool and slightly rainy, so at first I enjoyed the walk and was doing well. But when I was about 10 kilometers from the finish line, the race became very hard for me. I had muscle pulls in one leg, and I had some blisters. I wanted to quit. Then I began singing a hymn:
Fear not, I am with thee; oh, be not dismayed,
For I am thy God and will still give thee aid.
I’ll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand, …
Upheld by my righteous, omnipotent hand.
(“How Firm a Foundation,” Hymns, no. 85)
Over and over the words of the hymn flooded my mind and lifted my feet, and I finished the race in the strength of the Lord’s hymn.
This experience taught me that the gospel of Jesus Christ is about endurance. It is like walking or running in a race. We get tired sometimes, rest, and walk again. Heavenly Father does not give up on us no matter how many times we fall; to Him what counts is how many times we stand up and walk again. His gospel is about finishing the race.

“Today we are going to learn a new song,” Sister Reid announced. “It’s called ‘Baptism.’ Everyone close your eyes and listen to the music.”
Sadie closed her eyes and relaxed in her chair. The pianist started playing a melody that sounded soft and beautiful, like flowing water. Then Sister Reid started singing: “Jesus came to John the Baptist, in Judea long ago, and was baptized by immersion in the River Jordan’s flow.”
Sadie felt a tear slide down her cheek. She tried to wipe it away before Mom could see, but it was too late. Mom was the Primary president, and she always saw everything. She smiled sadly at Sadie. She knew why Sadie was crying.
After church Sadie’s little sister, Julie, hummed the baptism song the whole ride home. But Sadie stayed quiet.
“Do you want to color with me?” Julie asked when they got home.
Sadie shook my head. “Maybe later. I’ve got to do something first.”
Sadie found Dad in the living room, reading a book in his favorite chair. He liked to read while Julie, Mom, and Sadie went to church.
Sadie took a deep breath. “Dad?” she said. “Can I get baptized?”
Dad closed the book and gently pulled Sadie close.
“Oh, Sadie. You know we’ve talked about this. My answer is still no.”
“But I really want to!” said Sadie. “I’m already eight, and I’ve thought about it a lot. I know the Church is true. I really want to get baptized.”
Dad shook his head. “I love you, and I want what’s best for you.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “But I still think you’re too young to make such a big decision.”
Sadie’s shoulders slumped. “OK.”
She turned and slowly walked to her room. She knelt by her bed and prayed harder than she ever had before. “Heavenly Father, I really, really want to be baptized. Please help Dad understand.”
At first nothing happened, but she stayed on her knees. The baptism song from Primary ran through her mind. After a while, she didn’t feel so sad. Instead she felt peaceful inside. She started thinking about all the things she could still do, even though she couldn’t be baptized yet.
She could keep praying and keep going to Primary. She could be a good example to Julie, and maybe she could even ask Mom to fast for her next week.
The peaceful feeling stayed with her as she headed down to dinner. She didn’t know when, but one day she would be baptized. And it would be worth the wait.
And later Sadie got to be baptized!

MELBOURNE—
Just a short time ago, I was really struggling to keep attending all my Church meetings. I’m sure almost everyone experiences the same sort of doubts I was having—about the gospel, about myself, about school. It was the time for year-12 students to start submitting the VTAC forms, our application to university. I was so confused! How, at the age of 16, was I supposed to decide what direction my entire life should take?
Of course, the questions I had about where I was going began to spread to other areas—like the gospel. A close friend of mine, a recent convert, was having a great deal of trouble with her own testimony, and I was finding that I was unable to answer some of her questions. I began asking questions of my own. Some of them could be answered by seminary and Young Women teachers, but the answer to perhaps the most important question I would ever ask had to come from the Lord. I needed to know that the Church is true.
All I could do was ask. I knew I was doing all the right things: I attended seminary every day, I read my scriptures and wrote in my journal each night, I hadn’t missed a Church meeting for years. So on a freezing June night, I closed my Book of Mormon and knelt to pray.
“Please, Father,” I whispered. “I need to know that I’m doing the right thing, that all of this effort isn’t just in vain.”
I had heard all the descriptions of the wonderful feelings that people experience when they ask in faith about the truthfulness of the gospel. I’d often thought them somewhat trite, almost predictable. But the warmth and the certainty that washed over me as my Father in Heaven answered my prayers was nothing that words could ever do justice to. I felt surrounded by a glow of love and peace, and within my soul I knew the perfect truth of the gospel principles I had taken for granted all my life. Now I know the Church is true.