Gospel Story Finder

I opened my Book of Mormon to catch up on some reading. We were supposed to read at the beginning of my fifth-grade class. My teacher asked me what I was reading. I said, “It’s called the Book of Mormon.” She asked me what it was about. I began explaining all I knew about the Book of Mormon. Soon I had almost every ear in my class. I told my teacher and classmates about my testimony and Joseph Smith.
When I got home, I wrote about my missionary moment in my journal. When I talk about that day, I feel the Spirit testifying to me that what I said to my teacher was true. I have had many missionary moments since that day. Some of them have come from taking my Book of Mormon to school. I have always been taught that I can be a missionary even when I am young. And guess what? I am! Anyone can be a missionary!

The youth aren’t the only ones getting into the act. Entire families participate in the pageant, either as members of the cast or part of the crew. One family, the Nielsons, voted to audition for the pageant together. “My family said either everyone’s in or no one is. Majority rules,” says David Nielson, 14. “So we all went as a family and tried out—and we all made it!” David played a beggar and a member of the mob in the pageant.

Elva Jean Grauel of Burtonsville, Maryland, has spent a lot of time on the bench—the organ bench of her ward chapel, that is.
Following her early-morning seminary class every day, Elva had a 40-minute wait for her school bus. She put the time to good use by practicing the organ. Her efforts were rewarded when she won first place on both the local and regional levels in the classical keyboard category in a National Association of Christian Schools competition.
Elva serves as president of her Mia Maid class and as assistant organist in the Colesville Ward, Seneca Maryland Stake.

I could almost feel the jar of the wagon wheels as they crunched the rocks and churned the dust in the deeply rutted trail. It was an evening like many others during my teenage years in Paris, but on this particular night I was absorbed in a French television documentary about the Mormon pioneers. I had never seen anything like it before, and I marveled at the similarities between the Mormon trek and the exodus of ancient Israel from Egypt. The courage and suffering of the Mormon pioneers touched something deep within me.
I had never heard of the Mormons before, and I became interested in learning about them. But I soon became distracted by my busy life as a student and forgot the soft stirrings within me. Besides, I was only intellectually curious, or so I told myself. Little did I know then how the turning of those pioneer wagon wheels would change my life.
My mother worked in a fashion boutique in Paris and liked the Americans she met there. She grew to love the English language and encouraged me to study English even as a young child. During the summers, she sent me to England or Scotland to stay with English-speaking families. One year she encouraged me to get involved in an American summer camp exchange program. Through this program I became a camp counselor in Sharon, Vermont—the birthplace of Joseph Smith. Perhaps the Lord, even then, was trying to turn the wheels once more. Unfortunately, I heard nothing of Joseph Smith or the Mormons while I was there.
Several years later, however, the wheels turned again, with great power. I was studying English, with a specific focus on American culture, at Paris’s Sorbonne University. As I began thinking about a master’s thesis topic, I remembered the documentary about the Mormon pioneers. I asked my adviser if I could do something on them. No one at the Sorbonne had written a thesis about the Mormons, and so my adviser thought the subject might prove interesting. But he insisted that I pick an aspect of Mormonism that was unique.
After doing some preliminary research, I discovered that there was not enough information about the Mormons in the university library. I concluded I would have to talk to them. By then I had learned that the official name of the Mormon Church was The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. With that information, I located the headquarters of the Paris Mission and boldly knocked on the front door. I asked the missionary who answered, “Is there someone here who can tell me about the Mormons?”
The surprised young man managed to stutter, “Yes, yes, come in!”
As my research at the mission home progressed, I learned that Latter-day Saints believe in ordinances performed for dead ancestors. The more I read about temple work for the dead, the more I wanted to use that topic. The title I finally chose for my thesis was enough to make even long-time members of the Church pause: “Genealogy and the Mormon Church.” That’s how I became known in the Paris Mission as the “Genealogy Girl.”
It was at this point, just two months after my first visit to the mission home, that I met my future husband. He was a freelance American photographer and writer traveling in France. The missionaries told him about me, and he decided to interview me for a possible article for the Church magazines. After talking with me about the Church, he asked if I had ever considered joining. I shrugged my shoulders and said, “I’m really just curious.”
But as an afterthought, I reflected, “There is something unusual about your church. I always feel a sense of peace when I come to the mission home. Actually, I welcome reasons to come back.” Still, I insisted that my interest was only academic curiosity.
A few months later I decided to continue my thesis research by visiting the famous genealogical facilities in Salt Lake City. I arrived in Utah the day before President Joseph Fielding Smith’s funeral, and I went to the public viewing with an LDS girl I had corresponded with while I was in France. I was impressed by the lack of despair at the services.
During this time, the photographer I met in Paris returned to Salt Lake City, and we became reacquainted. I asked him to help proofread my thesis, and as time went on, he noticed my comments in the thesis becoming more and more positive—starting with “the Mormons believe …” and later expressing, without my realizing it, “We believe …”
One evening, he asked if I would like to take the missionary lessons. I hesitated and gave my former response, “I’m only curious.” But there was less certainty in my voice, so he suggested, “What have you got to lose?”
I smiled and said, “Well, nothing, I guess. OK.” Three weeks later, I was baptized, and the wagon wheels turned again as I became a pioneer myself—the only member of the Church in my family. Soon I would be privileged to give many of my ancestors the opportunity to choose to become members of the Church of Jesus Christ.
A year and a half after my baptism, the photographer and I were married in the Salt Lake Temple. Little did he know when he met me how the wagon wheels shown in a French documentary would affect his life.
Now it is 1997, the 150th anniversary of the pioneers entering the Salt Lake Valley, and as I tell my story I truly do feel the jar of the wagon wheels as they crunch the rocks and churn the dust in a deeply rutted trail. It is a day like many others, and I am pulling a handcart as part of the 1997 Sesquicentennial Mormon Trail Wagon Train on the old historic pioneer route near Big Sandy Crossing, Wyoming. During this reenactment, I am playing the part of an actual pioneer girl from France who joined the Church in Italy and came to Zion in the 1850s. It seems incredible that I am walking the same trail, breathing the same dust, and hearing the same sounds as she and so many other pioneers did so long ago.
As I walk, I remember the documentary I saw when I was a young girl in France, and I can feel the presence of the many Latter-day Saints who lived and died along this trail. However, the part I am playing is not just a story from our pioneer past, it is also my story—for I am a pioneer, too.

An example from Victor Hugo’s novel Les Misérables, though fictional, has always touched and inspired me. Near the beginning of the story, Bishop Bienvenu gives food and overnight shelter to the homeless Jean Valjean, who has just been released from 19 years in prison for having stolen a loaf of bread to feed his sister’s starving children. Hardened and embittered, Valjean rewards Bishop Bienvenu’s kindness by stealing his silver goods. Later detained by suspicious gendarmes, Valjean falsely claims the silver was a gift to him. When the gendarmes drag him back to the bishop’s house, to Valjean’s great surprise, Bishop Bienvenu confirms his story and for good effect says, “‘But! I gave you the candlesticks also, which are silver like the rest, and would bring two hundred francs. Why did you not take them along with your plates?’ …
“The bishop approached him, and said, in a low voice:
“‘Forget not, never forget that you have promised me to use this silver to become an honest man.’
“Jean Valjean, who had no recollection of this promise, stood confounded. The bishop … continued, solemnly:
“‘Jean Valjean, my brother: you belong no longer to evil, but to good. It is your soul that I am buying for you. I withdraw it from dark thoughts and from the spirit of perdition, and I give it to God!’”
Jean Valjean indeed became a new man, an honest man and a benefactor to many. Throughout his life he kept the two silver candlesticks to remind him that his life had been redeemed for God.6

Four-year-old Christopher sat by the window and watched the wet January snow pelt the glass. “Jingle bells, Jingle bells,” he whispered to himself as he stood up, stretched out his arms, and twirled. He opened and shut his eyes. Blink-blink, blink-blink.
“What are you doing, Christopher?” asked Mom.
“I’m not Christopher. I’m a Christmas tree.”
Mom smiled. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Christmas tree. Are you thirsty? I can put your feet in water if you’d like.”
Christopher giggled. “Oh, Mom!”
Mom laughed too and put her arms around him. “Why do you want to be a Christmas tree?”
“I want to have Christmas every day!” he explained.
“How about if we make Christmas cookies one more time? Would you like that?”
Christopher grinned and ran to the kitchen.
After supper, Christopher sat on his bed and ate a pink-frosted angel. He savored each sugary bite. Finally he licked the last crumb from his mouth and lay back on his pillow.
“‘Away in a manger, no crib for his bed, The little Lord Jesus lay down his sweet head.’” Christopher paused and listened to the stillness. His words sounded kind of empty. He wished it was Christmas Eve again so that he could sing it with his family around the tree.
He left his room and meandered to the kitchen. He got some paper and crayons from the cupboard and sat at the table. “Mom, will you draw a star for me?”
Mom put down her dish towel and drew a big yellow star at the top of the paper. “How is that?”
“Great! Thanks, Mom.”
Mom went back to her dishes, and Christopher covered the rest of the page with tiny golden dots. When it was finished, he smiled. It was just like the star that shined over Jesus when He was born.
He got some tape from the drawer and hung the picture above his bed. “‘Away in a manger,’” he sang. But it still didn’t feel like Christmas.
That night, when the house was dark and silent, Christopher thought long and hard about Christmas. He thought about Baby Jesus and Christmas trees. He thought about candy canes and Wise Men. He thought about presents. Presents! That was it! He could give someone a present. Christopher smiled and sank sleepily into his pillow. He could give someone a present.
The next morning, just before sunrise, Christopher jumped from his bed and ran to his parents’ room. “Mom?” he whispered.
Mom rolled over and opened one eye. “Hmm?”
“How can I earn some money?”
“What? Can’t we talk about it later?”
“Oh, Mom, please? I can’t go back to sleep until I know.”
“Know what?”
“How I can earn some money.”
“Why do you need money?”
“To buy a present.”
“For whom?”
“I don’t know yet, but it will be for someone special. Please, Mom?”
His mother thought for a moment, “I guess you could do extra chores around the house.”
“Thanks, Mom!”
“Now please go back to bed.”
Christopher ran to his room and climbed into bed, but he couldn’t go back to sleep. All he could do was think about his Christmas present.
Every day for a week, Christopher washed walls, made beds, vacuumed, and dusted furniture; and each day he added nickels, dimes, and quarters to his money jar.
Before church on Sunday, his mother helped him count his money and take out enough to pay his tithing. Then she counted it again for him. He had two whole dollars left. “Wow!” she said. “You sure earned a lot of money this week.”
Christopher grinned and slipped the money into his pocket.
“Have you decided whom you’re going to buy a present for?”
“Not yet,” said Christopher, “but I’ll think about it on the way to church.”
In Primary, Christopher’s teacher talked about her mission in Korea. She let the children taste some Korean cookies, and she even let Christopher hold a doll that a Korean child had given to her. Near the end of her lesson, she asked, “Do you know what I liked best about my mission?”
Christopher and his classmates shook their heads.
“Giving the Book of Mormon to people and seeing how it changed their lives.”
Christopher felt her words settle in his heart and grow. He knew about the Book of Mormon, and he loved it too. He wished he could share it with someone, just as his teacher had.
And then he knew what he would do! Excitement tingled through him. He could hardly wait to tell his mother.
“Does a Book of Mormon cost very much?” he asked her after Primary.
“No, why?”
“Do I have enough money to buy one?”
“Yes,” she said with a smile. “But why? You already have a Book of Mormon.”
“I want to give it to someone—it’s my present.” He stuffed his hand deep inside his pocket and pulled out the money. “Now what?”
His mother led him to the bishop’s office and filled out a donation slip for him. He put the money into the envelope and handed it to the bishop. “Make sure this goes to someone special, please,” he said.
The bishop smiled and nodded.
As they walked out of the office, Christopher whisper-sang the words to “Away in a Manger.” He thought about the star that led the Wise Men to Christ. He even thought about the Christmas lights that looked just like candles blinking on a hillside. But the thought he liked most of all was how he would feel next week, when he had another after-Christmas Christmas.

One husband and father, who had been a dean of a college in his professional career, was then called to be a temple president and then a mission president. Upon release from his mission assignment, he suffered a severe and disabling stroke. Rather than turning to thoughts of complaint, self-pity, or rejection, his wife rose to the trial of this newest experience by drawing upon the strength of the gospel that had always been a part of their lives, as she lovingly reassured: “This is the time for which we have been preparing. We have the foundation of the gospel principles, and I am going to do all I can to make this the happiest time of our lives together.”

Once when Chad was at the temple with one of our friends, Brother Gonzales, he again saw Brother Para at the temple waiting for a van to come get him. Brother Para had been waiting for a long time. Chad and Brother Gonzales decided to take Brother Para home themselves. Brother Gonzales had a big black truck. Just then, a carload of priests from our stake pulled up, and they helped put the heavy wheelchair in the back of the truck. Then they carried Brother Para into the truck, buckled him up, and held on to him so he would not fall over. I bet that day was awesome for Brother Para—how could he even imagine that he would be riding home from the temple in his dream truck!

But as they say, never say never—especially when the Lord has work for you to do. Twenty-five years later I retired after an enriching career with a large global tech company. Another company recruited me to Arizona, where Dana and I began to build our retirement home. Everything was falling into place as we worked through the transition. But for some reason the Lord had something else in mind for me.

Our family had been in Arizona for just over a year, and something about our “perfect” plan felt off. That year I also was diagnosed with cancer. Reflecting on that time, I see the Lord was preparing me for a significant change in the direction of my life. As I was going through this challenging period, I met a friend of my mother-in-law who had worked at the University of Arizona. She asked if I had ever considered working in higher education. That idea had never crossed my mind, but I felt prompted to explore job opportunities at BYU and found an exciting position in the BYU Marriott School of Business. I was still recovering from cancer surgery but felt directed to travel to Provo and meet with Dean Lee T. Perry in person. As soon as I met with Lee, I knew I needed to be at BYU. Fortunately, he felt the same and took a chance on me. Lee was another special person who the Lord put in my life to help me return to BYU.

It was not the first time I had met Lee. I had had the opportunity to take a class from then-Professor Perry as an undergraduate student. He was a new, young faculty member at BYU and brought great energy and passion to his class. Who would have known that this inspiring young professor would one day play a significant role in my life? Lee ended up being a great mentor to me as I began this new second career that offered me an opportunity to give back and to learn the important role BYU plays in developing disciples of Jesus Christ.

It was a major transition to BYU after years at a big corporation where the primary focus was driving business results; the pace and purpose were very different. Starting meetings with prayer, openly bearing testimony, and discussing the gospel while at work was unique, exciting, and refreshing. Over the past 12 years, I have also cherished the opportunity to mentor and work with amazing young people, watching them grow and develop.

With perspective I lacked as a young person, I now understand that the Lord led me back to BYU not only to recognize the important role of this sacred university but also to assist in the great work of developing disciples of Jesus Christ.

When members of one family began to feel unusual contention invading their home, they called a family council to discuss the situation. The father and mother explained to their children what they had observed and asked how each felt about it. The mother and father learned that since their two oldest children had left home—one to be married and one to go to college—an unfair burden of responsibility had been shifted to the two oldest children remaining at home, and they were becoming resentful. By counseling together and listening, the children shared what they were feeling, and a more equitable distribution of responsibility was made, resolving much of the frustration and tension in the home.3

Craig didn’t know what he was going to do or where he would end up. That afternoon after church his mother had informed him that his parents were getting a divorce. His father would be moving back to Iowa. He could live with whichever parent he chose.

He had listened to her news and then asked, “Is that it then?”

“Yes, that’s it.”

Craig had gone outside and ridden his ten-speed all afternoon, his feelings churning up inside him. He loved both his parents. How could he choose between them? What was he going to do? He never would have thought that his parents would get a divorce. They had even been married in the temple. Why would they want to break up after all these years?

He had never felt so alone in his whole life. It was like his entire world was coming unglued.

At the fireside now, still in shock, he wiped a tear from his eye. Julie noticed, and reached over and touched his arm.

He wanted to tell how much her concern had meant to him. Right now he felt like his friends in the Church were the only thing he could count on. He loved them all so much. He knew some of them had had problems, and they had seemed to get through okay. Maybe if they all stuck together, he’d be able to get through this crisis.

He knew he couldn’t stand up and say anything to the group, but he wished everyone in that room knew how much he loved them.

While I was serving as a bishop, our stake president asked the bishops in our stake to set an example for their ward members by making the sacrifice to be sealed in the temple. At that time, Bolivia was going through a severe economic crisis. Because of hyperinflation, goods would cost one price in the morning and then a higher price in the afternoon.

“How can we afford to go to the temple when we barely have enough to eat?” I asked my wife, Alicia.

“I don’t know,” she replied, “but the Lord’s promise is that He will provide” (see Doctrine and Covenants 118:3).

Despite our financial situation, we both felt an urgency to go to the temple. It was as if the Spirit were telling us, “Hurry, hurry!”

In December 1981, the São Paulo Brazil Temple—nearly 2,000 miles (3,220 km) away—was the only temple in South America. To pay for the weeklong trip, I took out a loan of $1,000. That was a lot of money, but we knew that the sacrifice would be worth it.

After a long bus ride to the border of Brazil, we caught a train to São Paulo. The train had no open seats, so we had to sit in an aisle with our two small children. We ran low on food, but strangers shared with us. When we reached São Paulo, our little son almost got lost on the metro.

After these and other challenges, we finally reached the metro station near the temple. As we exited, we could see in the distance the statue of the angel Moroni on the temple. We fell to our knees and thanked Heavenly Father. When we arrived a few minutes later, the temple president lovingly greeted us.

Early the next day we received our ordinances and were sealed as a couple and family. That evening, unbeknownst to us beforehand, the temple closed for the rest of the year for maintenance.

Had we waited to go to the temple, our trip would have cost more than we borrowed. Had we arrived the following week, the temple would have been closed. We are grateful that the Lord inspired us to hurry to the temple.

While serving as mission president, I had the pleasure of meeting personally with each of our young missionaries every six weeks. During the one-on-one meeting, it was common for missionaries to seek guidance on how to improve the effectiveness of their companionships.

On one occasion, a missionary came into his personal interview and sat down. I could tell from his body language that something was weighing heavily on his mind. I asked, “Elder, what would you like to discuss today?” He went on to describe some of the challenges he was having with his companion and how it was affecting their ability to do missionary work. With tears in his eyes, he looked at me and asked, “President, what should I do?”

In that instance, I honestly didn’t know how to respond. After a brief moment, I asked him if it was OK for us to kneel together in prayer for guidance from the Spirit. He agreed, and we knelt together and prayed for inspiration.

After the prayer, we continued kneeling for a short time and then sat in our chairs facing each other. I asked if we could read a scripture together. As we opened our scriptures, I paused and told him, “Elder, as we read this scripture, please ask yourself the following question: If I live these attributes, will it improve my companionship and our missionary work?”

Then we opened Moroni 7:45 and read out loud: “And charity suffereth long, and is kind, and envieth not, and is not puffed up, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil, and rejoiceth not in iniquity but rejoiceth in the truth, beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.”

The elder then looked at me with tears in his eyes and said, “Yes, President, but that is hard to do.” I agreed and reminded him that he is a son of God with divine potential to do it together with the Lord.

Then we briefly discussed the parable of the slope taught by Elder Clark G. Gilbert of the Seventy, which reminded us that we need to start where we are and, together with the Lord, move forward and upward in a positive direction. I could tell that he was still feeling a bit overwhelmed with the next steps, so I asked him to describe his understanding of the scripture “by small and simple things are great things brought to pass.” He went on to describe the concept that by doing small and simple things, great things can happen. I asked him to take a minute and identify two small and simple things he could do to be kind to his companion.

After a few moments, he shared his thoughts. Then I asked him to take a minute and identify two small and simple things he could do to be patient with his companion. He almost immediately shared his two thoughts. It was clear that he had already been pondering this before our meeting. I invited him to take those few items to God in prayer and to ask for confirmation, direction, and inspiration on how to execute his plan with real intent. He agreed. As we concluded, I asked him to provide a brief update in his weekly letter.

As the next few weeks went by, I could see in his weekly letters that things were improving. Not only could I see that improvement in his weekly letters, but I could also see it in the weekly letters of his companion. During our next in-person interview, I saw a night-and-day difference in his countenance and spirit. I asked him, “So, Elder, is it true that ‘charity never faileth?’” He responded with a big smile, “Yes, and by small and simple things are great things brought to pass.”

Danny Cope maneuvers his motorized wheelchair with the skill of a parking attendant. He can’t move his arms or fingers very well, but he prods the control stick mounted on his armrest with his fist. Danny’s wheelchair has seen a lot of action. As a deacon in the Oakridge Ward in the El Dorado California Stake, he uses it to fulfill his Aaronic Priesthood duties.
The wheelchair takes him to collect fast offerings and to quorum and Scout activities. His dad even made a special sacrament tray attachment so Danny can pass the sacrament with the other deacons. Since he isn’t able to lift the tray himself, the ward member nearest to the aisle helps him. Cerebral palsy might limit him physically, but mentally and spiritually he keeps moving.
Until last year, Danny had a hard time communicating. Even those close to him had a hard time understanding his speech. But now Danny talks with his eyes—well, with a laser that’s attached to his glasses. Using the laser, Danny can activate keys on a small, talking computer. Now that he’s able to communicate more easily, collecting fast offerings becomes as easy as pushing a button.
“Hello. I’m from the Church. Do you have any fast offerings today?” When the envelope is returned to him, Danny pushes another button, and the electronic voice says, “Thank you!” He’s also used his new voice to give talks and bear his testimony.
You can also see Danny’s testimony in his willingness to serve and in his love for nature and sacred music. Lately, Danny’s love for nature has translated itself into the desire to paint. He holds a paintbrush with his teeth to create acrylic or watercolor paintings. The process is slow, detailed, and requires a lot of patience.
“You should see his paintings,” says fellow deacon Jacob Ricks. “They are awesome!” Danny gets a lot of support from his deacons quorum.
As much as Danny seems to be enjoying life, his parents worry about him. They wonder if his easy, joyful smile really means he’s happy. His mom finally asked him: “Danny, are you having a good life?”
Her heart stopped for a moment when the first word to appear on his computer screen was “No.” Then Danny typed the rest of the sentence: “I’m having a great life!”

Fast-forward to more recent times, about two years ago. David Palmer, having spent several years teaching at the Safford High seminary, had recently become principal of the Thatcher High seminary. Brother Palmer had been playing rec league basketball, where he became acquainted with Brandon. Brandon learned that Brother Palmer’s son, Matthew, age 8 at the time, was about to have surgery to remove a lump in his jaw. Doctors feared it might be cancer.
“Brandon asked if he could visit my son after the surgery,” Brother Palmer explains. “When he visited, he gave him a note and said if Matt would let him know when he came to a game, he’d make a three-point basket and then point to him in the stands.” Sure enough, when the next Thatcher versus Safford basketball game rolled around, there was Matt in the stands with his father. On the first play, Brandon was open for three, sank the shot, and then turned and pointed to his young friend.
Brandon scored 30 points that night, with several baskets from beyond the arc. Each time he scored a three, he pointed at Matthew. That cemented Brandon as a hero to Matt.
That night in family prayer, Matt started asking Heavenly Father to guide Brandon to join the Church. The Palmer family had already been praying to find someone who would want to learn the gospel, and Matt was sure Brandon was an answer to that prayer.

Last fall, I attended church in a wonderful ward in Sao Paulo, Brazil. I was enjoying Relief Society when the teacher suddenly ended her lesson early. Imagine my surprise when the Relief Society president said, “We’re happy to have Sister Dew with us today, and we’d like her to take the remaining time.”

It was an honor to bear my testimony that morning. Afterwards, I had barely stood up when a young woman your age threw her arms around me and said, “Sister Dew, I am visiting from Peru, and you are the reason I came to Brazil.” That seemed curious, since neither of us had known I would be speaking, but I asked what I had said that made a difference, and she repeated what she’d heard and why it helped her.

That gave me an opportunity to point out something to her: “I am 100% sure that you heard what you said,” I told her, “but I am also 100% sure that I did not say it. What does that tell you?”

She paused and then answered, “That the Lord was talking to me?”

I nodded and asked, “What else does it tell you?”

She thought again and said, “That He knew what I needed to hear?”

I nodded again and asked, “What else does it tell you?” She wasn’t sure. “It tells you that you can receive revelation. The Holy Ghost translated what I said so that you heard what the Lord knew you needed. I am not the one who answered your prayer. It was God who did.”

That young woman had received revelation, but she didn’t realize it.

When I was 16, I attended high school at a technical school in order to earn an associate’s degree in electronics. As a requirement for my degree, I had to complete a 30-day internship at a local business to show my technical skills.
My internship was with a paper goods company. My desire to serve a full-time mission had begun to grow, and this job would help me earn enough money to go. But there were three of us interns, and the company would only select one of us for a full-time position.
The company had a machine that had failed. When the machine was working properly, it could complete as much work as three similar machines. This piece of equipment hadn’t been working for quite some time, and the company had ordered replacement parts from abroad to activate it—but it still didn’t work. I accepted the challenge to try to fix it.
Illustrations by David Curtis
Day after day, I spent hours studying the machine. But it was complicated, and it wouldn’t be easy to determine in just 30 days why it had failed, especially for someone as inexperienced as I was. However, I felt I could do it. Each morning before work, I read articles from the Liahona magazine and prayed to my Father in Heaven. I also struck up a friendship with my boss, an experienced electrical engineer, who obtained permission for me to take home copies of the blueprints on the weekends. I studied them intently.
As the internship drew to an end, my two colleagues finished their assigned projects and I felt the pressure growing. But in spite of negative (and even mocking) comments around me, I never doubted. The Friday that marked the end of our internships arrived quickly. Though I had resolved some of the issues, the machine still wasn’t working. I felt confident that I was close to fixing it, so I told my boss that if I could have permission to work on Saturday, the machine would be fixed by Monday.
My words astonished my boss so much that he personally requested permission from the president of the company. My boss then informed me that the next day, all three of us—the president of the company, my boss, and I—would be working, just until noon. “All three?” I asked. He explained that the company president, an electronics engineer, was interested in my proposal because there had been so many failed efforts to repair the machine that he had given up on repairing it.
The next day, I was very intimidated to be working alongside two adult engineers. I was young and lacked expertise. However, they offered to work as my assistants; I felt uncomfortable and, at the same time, very privileged.
It was just minutes before noon when the president and my boss realized that our efforts had been a waste. I excused myself and went into the bathroom. I knelt down, praying to my Father with great fervor. I felt an unexplainable, marvelous strength. I asked Him to help me get the job because I would need it to help me pay for my mission.
I came out of the bathroom electrified; but by that time, my assistants had already closed up the circuit compartments and gathered up the tools. I opened the machine back up and looked carefully at the 15 circuit cards inside. I noticed that one simple pin among over 4,000 pins in the system was not connected to the card. I connected it, put it in place, and turned on the machine. It worked! It was a miracle.
It was an unforgettable and touching moment. My boss hugged me, and the company president shook my hand and congratulated me energetically.
I was able to work for that company for nearly two years, save up the money I needed, and leave on my long-awaited mission. When I explained the reason for my departure, the president of the company bid me farewell and said, “You already know where to come back to work after you finish your mission. I wish you much success.”
This experience showed me that nothing is impossible for God. If we do not doubt, miracles will be made manifest, but only after the trial of our faith—even at the last moment. Yes, miracles do occur.

When I was a little older, I went with my dad on a business trip for his manufacturing company. We were to meet with a purchasing (buying) agent from a large company. My dad had always wanted to do business with them, but he had never been offered the opportunity.
When we met with the agent, he told us that we could have the project they were offering—if we increased the price and secretly sent him the extra money. My father said that we would call him later with our decision, and we left.
“What do you think we should do?” Dad asked me. He pointed out how much this project could benefit our company. He said that we could give more people jobs and accomplish much good.
Then he taught me something I have never forgotten. He said that if we were to be dishonest in even this one business dealing, we could seriously damage a reputation for honesty that took years to build. He turned the offer down. I am happy that he showed the courage to be honest at all times, even when the temptation was great.

This summer I had the privilege of attending an encampment of 900 young women in Alaska. Their influence on me was profound. They came to the camp spiritually prepared, having read the Book of Mormon and having memorized “The Living Christ: The Testimony of the Apostles.” On the third night of camp, all 900 young women stood together and recited the entire document word for word.

The Spirit filled the vast hall, and I yearned to join in. But I couldn’t. I hadn’t paid the price of memorization.

I have now begun to learn the words of “The Living Christ” as these sisters did, and because of their influence I am more fully experiencing the sacramental covenant to always remember the Savior as I repeat over and over the Apostles’ testimony of Christ. The sacrament is taking on a deeper meaning for me.

My hope is to offer the Savior a Christmas gift this year of having “The Living Christ” memorized and securely held in my heart by December 25th. I hope I can be an influence for good—as the sisters of Alaska were for me.

When I first became a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, I had the opportunity to accompany President N. Eldon Tanner, a counselor to President David O. McKay, to a stake conference in Alberta, Canada. During the meeting, the stake president read the names of four brethren who had qualified to be ordained elders. These were men whom President Tanner knew, for at one time he had lived in that area. But President Tanner knew and remembered them as they once were and did not know that they had turned their lives around and had fully qualified to become elders.

The stake president read the name of the first man and asked him to stand. President Tanner whispered to me, “Look at him. I never thought he would make it.” The stake president read the name of the second man, and he stood. President Tanner nudged me again and reported his astonishment. And so it was with all four of the brethren.

After the meeting, President Tanner and I had the opportunity to congratulate these four brethren. They had demonstrated that men can change.