Gospel Story Finder

Following my release from my first mission in 1923, I returned home to Whitney, Idaho, on Christmas Eve. It was a joyful reunion with my ten brothers and sisters, and especially with my father and mother in a home that had been as near ideal as a Latter-day Saint home could be.
Father and Mother always made it a practice to hang the stockings, one on each chair, for the children and to place their limited gifts on or under or near each chair.
Father and Mother took me into their confidence that Christmas Eve, which I shall never forget, and we stayed up all during the night. In fact, we didn’t retire at all. We filled the stockings after going to the granary and elsewhere on the farm to get the presents which had been secretly hidden by our devoted and beloved parents. This took a good part of the night. The rest we spent visiting together, with Father and Mother telling me of the progress made by each of the children while I was away, and with me reporting to them and responding to their questions regarding my wonderful mission of thirty months in the British Isles. It was a choice evening. My love for my parents had never been quite so great before as it was that night.
It was agreed that the children could arise early Christmas morning. I don’t remember the hour, but I think it was 5:00 A.M. They were each to go in the kitchen, as I remember it, for a glass of milk and a piece of bread and butter and honey before they came into the living room to partake of the goodies from their stockings and to enjoy the excitement of their presents from Santa. It was a happy morning. I could not hold back the tears as I watched with pride the reactions of my six brothers and four sisters and the loving expressions of my noble parents as they watched their posterity partake of the Christmas spirit and as they felt of the unity which prevailed in our family circle.

How grateful I am for the power of example. The New Era truly sets a good example for the youth of today—our leaders of tomorrow. I’m thankful to a friend of mine who set an example for me four years ago when I was 18 by asking me if I would listen to the missionaries. I did and was shortly thereafter baptized. Now I am on a mission serving the Lord—supported by my non-LDS family. I hope I am setting an example for them. Thank you, Mike Johnson, for sharing the gospel.
Elder Chris D. AxentyIdaho Pocatello Mission

Perla García calls them her tesoros (treasures): yellowed newspaper clippings of the Church’s early days in Chile, old photographs of visiting General Authorities, an aging Bible signed by some of the first converts, and other mementos of the nearly 50 years she and her husband, Ricardo, shared. They flood her heart with love, and her mind with memories.
When Sister García shows her tesoros to visitors, she cannot help but express gratitude for the gift of the Holy Ghost, speak with reverence of the missionaries who taught her the gospel, and recall with fondness being one of only a handful of Latter-day Saints in Chile during the late 1950s. The members may have been few, she says, but the blessings were many.
On 23 June 1956 Elders Verle M. Allred and Joseph C. Bentley from the Argentina Mission flew over the Andes Mountains and into Santiago to begin modern-day missionary work in Chile. “We were on our own. We had to stay very close to the Lord and depend upon him,” recalls Brother Allred, who now serves as patriarch of the Brigham City Utah Stake. “We felt like pioneers,” adds Brother Bentley, a Sunday School teacher in the Parleys Fifth Ward, Salt Lake Parleys Stake. “We worked very hard, but it was a great experience.”
Sister García met the elders while watering her yard. She invited them to come back after her husband had returned from working out of town. When the elders met Brother García, “he greeted us and cordially received us as though we had met before,” Brother Allred recalls. “Once we started talking about the Church, he wouldn’t let us leave.”
Their meeting turned into a three-hour discussion, during which Brother García was moved to tears as he listened to the missionaries’ message. On 24 November 1956 in a Santiago country club pool, Brother García became the first Latter-day Saint to be baptized in Chile. He was joined that day by eight others, five of them children. Sister García was baptized in January 1957.
Brother García’s agricultural work often required that the family relocate. When they found themselves in a new city without a branch, they would start one. Over the years, Brother and Sister García served in many Church callings.
“The gospel has been a great blessing for Chile,” says the couple’s daughter, Perla, recalling the joy her family felt by serving the Lord. “My father used to say that it is so beautiful to be laborers in the Lord’s vineyard.”
Ricardo passed away 26 September 1994. Despite illness, he spent the final years of his life serving as the Santiago Chile Nuñoa Stake patriarch and as an ordinance worker in the Santiago Chile Temple, where Sister García played the organ. It is in the temple that she feels closest to him.
“He was a very special man. I know he is waiting for me,” Sister García says. “I wasn’t happy to see him go, but my husband died a happy man. He said, ‘Don’t weep. I have finished my work and am ready to go. I know I will see you and the children again. Tell our brothers and sisters to remain faithful, that I love them, and that they should not be sad because I am happy to move on.’”

Near the end of my junior year of high school, it was time to decide which classes to take my senior year. After signing up for all of the required classes, I still had one open space. Deciding how to fill it was an important decision to me, so I knelt and prayed for guidance. As I pondered what to do, the Spirit suggested that I study another foreign language. I’d already studied several years of Spanish, so I began to browse our school’s language courses. German, French, Italian, and others seemed interesting, but none seemed right. I finally reached the bottom of the list and read “Mandarin Chinese.” I didn’t know any Chinese people or even anyone who spoke Chinese, yet I felt the Spirit confirm that this was the right choice.
Despite my misgivings, I signed up for the course. I’ve felt and expressed gratitude to God for that decision almost every day of my life since. Choosing to learn an unfamiliar and difficult language—even when it wasn’t required—helped me when I was called to serve a Chinese-speaking mission in Taiwan. And that experience has led me to every internship, job, and opportunity I’ve had until now as a young adult. This experience taught me that Father in Heaven cares deeply about our education and that He expects us to pursue the best education possible, even when it’s inconvenient, uncomfortable, or challenging. When we follow Him by making that sacrifice, He always blesses us.
Brandon C., Utah, USA

Academic Success
I came to BYU–Hawaii thirsty for academic success. I knew a university education would change my life, my family, and the nation at large. I had been given a chance of a lifetime. I wasn’t going to squander it and looking back, I did not. My parents had no formal education. They grew up in the rural part of South Africa where opportunities for education during their days were non-existent. My mother was a domestic worker and my father a labourer at a timber company. My father had told me as a boy that education is the ticket to success. This understanding of my family background, a single chance to taste success, and the role education could play to one’s success served as an inspiration to do well.

In addition, there were people I could not disappoint. The list included my mission president, Dr. Wayne Shute, the BYU–Hawaii staff at the Admissions and Financial Aid offices, and my family, whom I had not seen since I left for my mission. These people worked hard to make sure I was on this campus.

Back to my background, soon after arriving on campus, it became clear that my early education under the apartheid regime had not prepared me to compete at the college level in the U.S. The apartheid education had only prepared me to do manual labour. In short and to quote the Soweto Student Representative Council, “hewers of wood and drawers of water."

It came as no surprise when I was asked to enroll in EIL (English as an International Language). I took Math 90 before I could take Math 110. A few semesters later I registered in Astronomy 110. Even though I had completed high school, it was the first time in my life that I learned about the planetary system. As a college student I was shocked to learn that beyond the clouds and the skies there are planets and let alone the universe.

Despite the poor academic preparation, I was determined to succeed and complete my studies within time. I put every effort into my studies. I dedicated four hours per day to my studies outside the classroom. Two hours at night and two hours in the morning. I completed all my assignment on time. The hard work I put into my studies paid off. I graduated cum laude and was on the Dean’s List for the last three years of my studies. I was on an academic scholarship which paid for most of my studies.

The academic training I received on this campus prepared me to obtain four more additional high education qualifications, passing them with flying colors.

The reality of professional singing, which included being absent from my family for up to eight weeks at a time during touring productions, was like a splash of cold water. The old, nagging questions surfaced. What had I done? Had I left my job and dragged my little family far away from the security of a comfortable life for this? Had I really acted upon inspiration or should I let my dreams die and simply bury them? Things were definitely not turning out the way we had envisioned, and for the first time I was really afraid.

When I took these doubts and fears and laid them at the Lord’s feet, the answer to our dilemma came as dramatically and miraculously as our directive to leave Overton. During one of our long-distance telephone conversations I told my wife about several of my colleagues in the touring group that had spent some time in Europe. There it was possible to be a member of an opera company, keep regular hours, have health and retirement benefits, and, best of all, stay in one place. It sounded like a dream come true. We had only one problem: how would we finance an audition tour to Europe?

Absolutely no one knew of our conversation. A short time after our talk and heartfelt prayer, a dear friend called. To my utter amazement he brought up the subject of a European audition tour and offered to finance the trip. With tears of joy and unbelievable gratitude we thanked our Heavenly Father for such an incredible miracle and the generosity of such a spiritually sensitive friend. I made my reservations shortly thereafter, boarded the plane in New York, and three weeks later miraculously had a job in a beautiful city, the oldest city in Germany: Trier.

Recently one summer I traveled with my family to the East Coast to visit Palmyra, New York. Ever since I was little, I loved listening to the story of Joseph Smith. My family and I went through the visitors’ center near the Hill Cumorah, Grandin’s Print Shop in Palmyra, the Sacred Grove, and the Smith homes. We watched a video about Joseph Smith and the First Vision. While watching, I felt the Spirit telling me that the Church was indeed true. I more strongly came to realize that when Joseph prayed in the Sacred Grove, he wasn’t the prophet yet. He was just a farm boy who knew nothing about talking with angels or the writings of the inhabitants of ancient America. If more people only knew that Joseph Smith started as a confused person in this world, then maybe they would understand the power of the First Vision and Joseph’s seed of faith that turned into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I know that these things are true and that with faith like that of Joseph Smith, we can receive powerful revelation and answers to our prayers. If we just “ask of God … it shall be given [us]” (James 1:5). I love the gospel, and I love the story of Joseph Smith, who had the courage to ask a simple question.

Almost 50 years ago I knew a boy, even a priest, who held the authority of the Aaronic Priesthood. As the bishop, I was his quorum president. This boy, Robert, stuttered and stammered, void of control. Self-conscious, shy, fearful of himself and all others, he had an impediment of speech which was devastating to him. Never did he fulfill an assignment; never would he look another in the eye; always would he gaze downward. Then one day, through a set of unusual circumstances, he accepted an assignment to perform the priestly responsibility to baptize another.

I sat next to him in the baptistry of the sacred Tabernacle. He was dressed in immaculate white, prepared for the ordinance he was to perform. I asked Robert how he felt. He gazed at the floor and stuttered almost incoherently that he felt terrible.

We both prayed fervently that he would be made equal to his task. Then the clerk read the words: “Nancy Ann McArthur will now be baptized by Robert Williams, a priest.” Robert left my side, stepped into the font, took little Nancy by the hand, and helped her into the water which cleanses human lives and provides a spiritual rebirth. He then gazed as though toward heaven and, with his right arm to the square, repeated the words “Nancy Ann McArthur, having been commissioned of Jesus Christ, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.”18 Not once did he stammer. Not once did he stutter. Not once did he falter. A modern miracle had been witnessed.

In the dressing room, as I congratulated Robert, I expected to hear this same uninterrupted flow of speech. I was wrong. He gazed downward and stammered his reply of gratitude.

I testify that when Robert acted in the authority of the Aaronic Priesthood, he spoke with power, with conviction, and with heavenly help.

Charlotte and her sisters were huddled around the dining room table with paper and pen, each absorbed in a world of her own. Although the wind and snow were blowing through the moors outside, the girls were comfortable sitting by the fireplace in their long woolen dresses.
Born in the early 1800s, Charlotte, Emily, and Anne Brontë grew up in a bleak parsonage on the Yorkshire moors of England. After their mother’s death when they were small children, Aunt Branwell, kind but proper, came to look after the family. Their father was good and loving but kept very much to his study.
Once a friend named Ellen Nussey, whom Charlotte had known at school, came to visit for a few days. After walking through the moors with Charlotte and realizing how isolated her friend’s parish home was, Ellen asked, “What do you do with yourself around here?”
“Oh, we’ve plenty to keep us busy,” Charlotte answered. “We teach Sunday School and visit the sick to help father. During the day we help Tabby, our cook, with the food preparation and Aunt Branwell with the housework. The best part of each day is spent by ourselves in our own special part of the moors. In the evenings we … well, we write stories.”
“How exciting!” Ellen replied. “What kind of stories do you write?”
“One night a long time ago we were sitting by the fireplace waiting for it to get dark,” Charlotte said. “Aunt Branwell never let us waste candles until it was dark enough to really need them, so we began to tell stories. We made up some countries along with our favorite heroes, and we’ve been writing little stories about them ever since.”
So began the love of writing by three young sisters who were to be found each evening sitting in front of a candle with pens in hand.
Charlotte found it necessary to bend very low over her paper because of her nearsightedness, and the scarcity of paper didn’t help. The girls had to train themselves to write so small that even a tiny piece of paper might contain a complete story or a lengthy poem.
One night Anne and Emily were writing on a flyleaf that had been carefully torn from a book. Charlotte was finishing a tiny book she had made by sewing small bits of old paper together. She had already completed several little books like this that she kept locked in a writing desk—a small rosewood box.
For many years the girls were too shy about their writing to share it even with each other. It took a small accident by Charlotte to get them to share their work and their dreams of someday having their work published.
Charlotte was moving Emily’s notebook one day to set the table. She had done this many times in the past and had never neglected Emily’s privacy by reading her work. This day, however, the notebook fell open accidently to some poems, and before Charlotte could close it her eyes caught a few lines.
Having studied the best poets at her boarding schools, Charlotte was capable of recognizing good poetry when she saw it. Emily’s poems were good, very good, and Charlotte couldn’t put the notebook down. She knew her sister’s work must be published.
“Charlotte! How dare you!” Emily cried as she came into the dining room.
“It was an accident, Emily; really it was.” Charlotte realized what her sister must think. “Your poems are so good, though, I couldn’t quit reading them.”
Emily’s anger lasted for three days during which she didn’t speak to Charlotte. After all was forgiven, the door was open for the sisters to discuss their work with each other and make plans to try to publish it.
There was something more than their love of writing that made the sisters want to publish their work. It was a fear of having to go out in the world to make a living. It had been hard enough on them to leave home for some schooling, but it was unbearable to stay away after that.
Each served as a governess to wealthy families for a short time, but they could not stand the cold indifference shown them. They longed for the warmth and love of their own home and family. At different times each one of them gave a quick notice to either school or employer and returned to the family.
They finally decided to each contribute some poems into a collection to be sent to an editor. The poems were accepted for publication, but the girls had to pay the printing expense. Only two copies were bought at that time, but these same two copies would be worth a fortune today.
Before the poems were sent off, the girls had a decision to make—what names to attach to their work. Women’s writing was not regarded highly then, so they desired to choose names that were neither feminine nor masculine. Each chose a name using her first initial. Anne chose Acton, Emily, Ellis; and Charlotte, Currer. They wanted the last name to begin with B and finally decided upon Bell.
While they were waiting for the poems to be published, they began a new, larger project. Each was at work on a novel. Emily chose to write about some old ruins that could be seen on a hilltop near their home. She had been entranced by the place for several years as she had watched the wind wuther (blow) through the moors up to the old ruins. She planned to call her book Wuthering Heights.
Both Anne and Charlotte expressed some of their unhappy experiences and feelings when serving as young governesses to wealthy families. Through Agnes Grey Anne told of the selfishness and bad tempers shown her by the “respectable” people for whom she had worked. Charlotte wanted to write about a poor, plain girl like herself, and after much thought she chose the name of Jane Eyre for her heroine.
Anne’s book had very little success at the time it was published, but she ignored that and immediately began another. Emily’s book received more attention, but not all of it was favorable. Jane Eyre, however, was soon being read by people all over the world. In time all the books written by the Brontë sisters became classics in English literature.

Most Latter-day Saints who achieve any amount of fame or success will say that in spite of their dedication to their chosen field, the Church comes first. But the girls on Kirtland, New Mexico’s record-shattering basketball team won’t tell you that.
It would be impossible for them to separate the Church from any one facet of their lives, because the gospel is the dominating force in everything they do. To rank it in one place, leave it there, then go on to others would be absolutely ridiculous to them.
Take basketball, for example. That’s what they spend most of their time doing, and the gospel is always a part of it. There were five LDS girls on the team that won a record-breaking eight straight state championships, and the coach was the first counselor in the bishopric. With that kind of a roster, you can bet the gospel was never far from their minds.
“The Church is the whole backbone of everything in life,” says Paige Manning, a perky five-foot, two-inch guard who resembles a pixie more than a basketball player. But Paige will surprise you. She’s a skilled starter with some deadly shots that have earned her high-point honors in more than one game. “We pray about everything, and we know we represent the Church wherever we go, whatever we do,” she says.
And the players on the Kirtland Central High girls’ basketball team get to do a lot of representing. Since they set their record, they’ve appeared on radio and television stations nationwide, including ESPN, and have been noted in many newspapers, including a featured article in USA Today. One player, Collette Hatch, has even had her picture printed on the side of milk cartons all over the state as part of an antidrug campaign. And that kind of recognition isn’t common in Kirtland.
You see, Kirtland is an unlikely place to produce a team that rolls over the most powerful schools in the state. Kirtland is hardly even a speck on the map in the northwest corner of the state. But the town, like its LDS residents, is permeated by the gospel. It originated in the late 1800s as a little offshoot community of nearby Fruitland, which was mostly settled by Saints sent out from Salt Lake City. Yes, it is named after the famous Mormon settlement in Ohio. Today most of the town’s residents are non-LDS, but there are still descendants of the original settlers. You’ll find LDS family names like Cluff, Foutz, Ashcroft, Biggs, Farnsworth, and Hatch wherever you go.
Kirtland never was exactly what you’d call a boomtown, either. The population hit about 3,000, and has stayed close to that mark ever since. It’s mostly flat, rocky desert land, although the red-brown scenery is dotted by a Navajo willow every now and then. There are a few stores in Kirtland, a post office, a couple of churches, and a ball diamond or two.
And there are schools there. Schools that feature superlative female basketball players. The winning tradition has become a legacy that many of the little girls in town dream of joining. “I’ve always wanted to be on the team,” says Gaylene “Gidget” Gallagher, an energetic guard. “I’ve been trying to learn how to play since I was little. When the coaches finally started us in a program, I spent all my time in the gym.”
It was the same for Collette. “When I was just little I remember my dad saying, ‘Here—take this basketball and go dribble it around the house—and don’t use both hands!’”
Once Collette got to high school, basketball seemed to dominate just about everything else. “You just go to practice, come home, study, and go to bed,” she says. “You have no social life. Except after the games you might go get pizza or something, but that’s about it. All during the summer, you just practice.”
All that work seems to have paid off for Collette, who fits most people’s description of the all-American girl. In the summer of 1987, she was selected to be on a high school superstar team that traveled to Israel. She has managed to be active in seminary, Mutual, and student council, and she is rated second in her class academically, so you can tell she finds time for some other interests.
During the season, practices last at least three hours a day. And in the summertime, some of the players have been known to practice up to 12 hours a day. Coach Cluff, a loving, fatherly man who knows how to take charge, uses basketball as an opportunity to help his players learn the gospel.
“I’m simple enough to believe that everything is spiritual with Heavenly Father,” he says. “Whether it’s basketball, math, science, or whatever.” He always makes sure that there’s a prayer both before and after a game. “Kids can learn a lot about their Heavenly Father through basketball, if they use prayer, and hopefully those lessons will stick with them for the rest of their lives.”
What are some of the lessons they’ve learned? They’ve learned to stick to their standards, for one. “The community knows we’re not the partying type,” says Collette. In fact, the town residents know just about everything about the players on their championship team, from their grade point averages to the color of dress they wore to the prom. “The community knows that we’re probably the straightest people in the whole town. We can’t give in to temptation, even just a little bit, or everything will go down. Not just our reputation, but our abilities and our potential.”
“And it’s not always easy to set a strong example,” adds Paige. “It’s hard in a small town. You don’t have much to do that’s exciting. Everything gets real old real fast, so a lot of kids just turn to things like alcohol and drugs, and they think that makes them happy. I’ve seen them go through a lot of pain, and I’ve been able to avoid all that by following the Word of Wisdom and keeping my standards where they should be.”
They’ve learned that the missionary work they do through example is invaluable. Over the years, several team members have joined the Church thanks to the examples set by their LDS counterparts. And most of the LDS players today bring friends to Church activities and seminary. You might think there would be a certain breach between the LDS and non-LDS players, but they go out of their way to be unified.
“There’s never a division between the LDS girls and the others,” says Moni Ahlcrimn, a raven-haired forward with a sparkle in her blue eyes. “But they do watch us, and many times they kind of follow along with what we’re doing.”
Gidget thinks that that cohesiveness is the main reason for Kirtland’s success on the courts. “You have to be truly dedicated to teamwork to win,” she says. “We work so much together as a team. One of the reasons the other teams lose is because there’s conflict from within. But we really help each other. I think the main reason we do so well is that we’re like one big family.”
But even on a winning team, there are lessons to be learned about defeat. Angie Harris, the team center, hyperextended her knee during the second quarter of the first game of the record-breaking season, and was sidelined for the rest of the year. At least two surgeries have been necessary to get her back on her feet, and she’ll probably never play school ball again. Many players might be bitter over this, but not Angie. She reads the scriptures faithfully every day, and from them she’s learned that “the Lord isn’t going to give you challenges that you can’t handle. This injury wasn’t that bad. I played on the state championship team last year. This keeps it from going to my head.”
Oh, and of course there are the basic lessons to be learned about taking care of the temple which is your body. These girls are so into fitness that in the few seconds of spare time they have left over, they do things like coach little girls’ softball, work as a lifeguard at the community pool, play church volleyball and softball, compete on the school track team, and run just for the fun of it. That’s the main reason Moni is involved in basketball at all. She’s only been playing about three years, but she says, “The running is what I like best. I play to stay in shape.”
And they’ve learned to play, to eat, to drink and sleep—to live under pressure. Many people think the girls’ basketball program is the best thing that ever happened to Kirtland. “Now that we’ve got a streak going, nobody wants to be on the first team to lose,” says Coach Cluff. “The girls work real hard, under intense pressure from the community and from themselves and their teammates, to continue the winning tradition.”
With that kind of pressure, you can see why most of the girls are a bit relieved come graduation day when they hang up their tennies and go on to college. A few of them continue playing basketball—BYU’s star Karina Zapata is a product of Kirtland, and Collette hopes to play for a four-year university. Most of the players from the Kirtland basketball legacy, however, will give up ball in favor of books.
But they will never regret, and they will never forget, the things they learned from their magical years on the basketball team. Sure, their hook shots may fade, and they might not recall how they ever managed to pull down so many rebounds, but because they took their coach’s advice to “consider all things spiritual,” they’ll never forget the eternal principles they learned on a high school basketball court.

I had a friend in the fourth grade named Victor. I’d sometimes spend the night at his house, but it was different than at other friend’s homes. Victor had not only learned to love himself, but he had learned to love others.
I remember one time when we were at both ends of a flight of stairs in his house playing catch with a soft ball. He was at the top, and I was at the bottom. I would have to tell him when I was going to throw the ball to him and where it was going. My friend Victor was blind.
We played for quite some time, laughing and having a lot of fun. The ball would hit him in the head or the shoulder, and we’d laugh and laugh. Once I said, “Okay, it’s coming right now.” Both his hands flew out just at the right time, and he caught the ball. We were both so excited, we just couldn’t believe it.
Time went by, and for a while we had a lot of our classes together. But they became fewer. By the time we reached junior high school, I didn’t see him very much because he was in special classes.
Then student body elections came up, and Victor wanted to run for president. The day came when everyone who was trying for an office gave speeches. It was finally Victor’s turn. This was his chance, and I hoped so much he would make it. A woman whispered something in his ear. Was it a vote of confidence or directions on how to get to the podium?
Victor finished his speech and walked back to his chair. The crowd cheered for him so loudly it nearly knocked him over. He didn’t promise world peace or anything. He just spoke with great confidence. A few days later, the election results were announced. Victor had won! I was so happy I cried for him.
Sometimes I would go home at night and ask Heavenly Father if he would let Victor have my eyes, if only for one day, just so my great friend, our president, could walk down the halls at school without getting smashed into and knocked around. But I guess Heavenly Father knew Victor was doing all right because Victor never once let his blindness stop him.
As a member of the Church, I have sometimes let the things I can see get in the way. I’ve let them stop me from doing what I should do. Victor taught me this great principle: It’s not the things you look at in life—it’s your attitude, or how you look at them, that counts. I was so blind that Heavenly Father had a blind friend teach me to see.

President Daniel Allotey, stake president of the Ghana Kasoa Stake, knows that it is indeed his religious responsibility to consider how to strengthen and support the young single adults in his stake. President Allotey and his counselors prayerfully began to study President Nelson’s direction and counsel. The stake presidency received answers to their prayers and knew that their focus needed to be on YSA gathering places. This meant asking members to make sacrifices to serve with the YSA.
President Allotey shared, “Having the desire to be perfectly aligned with the prophet brings light and revelations to the mind and heart and rekindles the energy and ability to do what may seem impossible. Upon the authorization of gathering places by the Brethren, and prayerfully seeking to understand the vision, I felt the calm assurance within my heart, and I knew for certain this is the Lord’s answer and perfect solution to the YSA dilemma my stake has been trying to solve for many years. To organize the gathering place with no supporting budget became the real test of our faith. We knew that if we would take that faithful step, the Lord would make a way for us” (see 1 Nephi 3:7).
A YSA council was created. Brother and Sister Dwamena-Frimpong and Brother William and Sister Karen Aryee were called to serve as YSA supporting couples and gathering place specialists, respectively. “When this calling was extended to us, we had no idea of what to do and how to get things done,” said Sister Aryee. “As it is our human nature to come up with plans, thoughts, and goals for the future, we needed to realize God is the only one who truly knows what’s best for us. That was how we sought direction from the Lord for us to come up with activities that will unite, educate, and bring souls unto Christ. The Lord, indeed, answers prayers as we received guidance steadily on what to do and how to get all our YSA’s involved.”
The Aryees met with the stake presidency and began to petition the Lord to lead them and give them direction. President Ghunney, second counselor in the stake presidency, said, “Under the direction of the stake president, we met to discuss and plan on how to implement the gathering place. Through these council meetings, I have seen the heavens open, and revelations poured out to our understanding, and the more we met in council, the more the Lord made clear to us what we needed to do.”
The newly called leaders knew that within their stake there would be experts in various fields that could teach the needed classes. Visits were made to wards and branches seeking teachers for bead making classes, fashion, IT proficiency, eCommerce and web design, wood engineering, computer animation, web design, cosmetology, driving, detergents making and culinary arts. President Allotey said, “When I called each teacher, I told them to be prepared to make some sacrifices to help the YSA in our stake.” In West Africa, transportation costs and the premium placed on long work hours are high.
A gathering place devotional was held. Members of the Church, neighbors and friends were invited to register for skills training and BYU-Pathway classes.
There was a lot to learn. At times, leaders were not feeling the success and seeing the number of YSA for which they had hoped and prayed. They prayed continually. They felt certain that sacrifice was the key to success. When there were not enough computers for the web design class, students shared computers. When internet was not available, instructors spent time during the week creating tutorial videos that students could watch when internet was available.
Sister Mercy Dady, beads instructor, declared, “When our class started, getting beads was not easy for YSAs due to financial challenges.” Sister Dady purchased all the beads required for the first two weeks and provided the class with all essential tools and materials. This initial sacrifice gave the class a successful start. Some of the YSA were able to contribute small amounts of money to purchase the beads required for subsequent classes.
Sister Atistosgbui shared her thoughts on being an instructor. “Volunteering as an instructor over the past few weeks has been challenging, yet an eye-opening, learning opportunity for my students and me. My desire to see the YSA succeed motivated me to sacrifice my resources to transporting mannequins, pressing iron, and sewing machines among other things from my workshop to the gathering place and back twice every week. Although the cost of transporting the equipment to class was high, I knew the Lord always blesses the cheerful giver”, she said.
Brother Collins Sarkodie Aning said, “I thank my Heavenly Father for the opportunity to volunteer as the e-commerce and web design instructor. Personally, I will say that what has kept my class going since the gathering place launch is the love that I have for the YSA and my quest to help them acquire a skill to support themselves and their families.” Twice each week Brother Sarkodie dedicated an entire day to his classes and transported himself from his home or workplace to meet and teach the YSA.
At the completion of twelve weeks of classes and at the end of a BYU-Pathway semester, a graduation ceremony was held at the stake center. Students displayed projects and shared newly acquired skills and talents. Traditional dancing, music, and the awarding of certificates to 106 students ended the semester on a high note.
President Allotey testified, “The gathering place has transformed every participant’s life. Nonmembers also have been blessed, several being willing to meet with full-time missionaries to be taught the gospel of Jesus Christ.
“The happenings in the YSA gathering place are amazing! It has been many years since we last saw YSA trooping into our stake center and gathering together almost every day of the week. As I keep meeting and interacting with returning inactive YSA and even nonmember YSA who have come from the neighborhood to the gathering place, my heart swells with joy as I see the real fulfillment of the prophecy of the gathering of Israel on this side of the veil and the eventual salvation of the rising generation. I know that the YSA gathering place principle is revealed by God through our prophet to save this rising generation.”

By the time I returned home from my mission, I believed I knew everything there was to know about the Book of Mormon. I never admitted that out loud, of course—but looking back, this attitude influenced how I approached the scriptures after my mission.
And not in a good way.
When I studied the scriptures, I often found myself returning to familiar passages over and over again—mostly to recall and reaffirm the things I’d learned before. I definitely tried to keep pondering the scriptures to learn something new, but I never felt like I was making any discoveries. The enthusiasm I once had for the Book of Mormon started to dwindle.
Soon after returning home, I also started a new job, and my scripture study time shrank from the full hour I had studied on my mission to 30 minutes. Then I received a calling, and those 30 minutes became 15. Then over the summer I served as an FSY counselor. And I used most of my study time to review a handful of verses that I repeatedly shared with youth week after week.
I knew that Heavenly Father loved any time I set aside to study His word. But, frankly, I didn’t feel like I was following Nephi’s invitation to “feast upon the words of Christ” (2 Nephi 32:3). I convinced myself that there couldn’t be anything new to learn. Instead of feasting on the Book of Mormon, I was barely nibbling.
This attitude of complacency continued into my first semester at Brigham Young University, during which I attended a Book of Mormon class. On the first day, my professor stood up at the head of our classroom. Fixing us with a friendly but piercing gaze, he said, “My goal in this class is to convince you that you don’t know the Book of Mormon—at all.”
I was intrigued by this, but it seemed more like the sort of sharp one-liner professors say to get your attention rather than an actual promise.
Thankfully, I turned out to be totally wrong.
As part of the class, my professor assigned us to read the Book of Mormon. Not just open it and scan the words or gloss over a chapter to recall the same story we may have consumed a million times.
He wanted us to actually read.
For example, he taught us about how the original manuscript of the Book of Mormon didn’t include punctuation at all—and he had us add in punctuation to a long, confusing passage from Alma 13 to teach us about the difference that commas and periods can make. He had us read a single verse alongside an 1828 Webster’s dictionary, looking up keywords that held radically different meanings than I’d first assumed.
The class challenged a lot of my basic assumptions about what the Book of Mormon even was. I’d never realized, for example, that Nephi wrote 1 Nephi years after he and his family had journeyed to the promised land (see 1 Nephi 9:1–5; 2 Nephi 5:28–31).
I also discovered how many of the deep flaws of the Nephite culture have startling parallels to the challenges our own cultures face today.
I came to understand the careful, deliberate messages that Mormon, Moroni, and others had implanted specifically for us—and how deeply anxious they were that we didn’t get caught up in the radical skepticism and doubt of the world.
My whole perception and testimony of this book started to change as I pondered these truths.
Through truly feasting on its words, I discovered that the Book of Mormon reveals who Jesus Christ is—not just doctrinally, but personally and intimately. The book bears His signature on every page. It’s an enduring record that testifies how He hasn’t forgotten His covenant people and He never will.
I don’t have all the answers to life. But I’ve come to understand that I didn’t learn everything there was to know about the Book of Mormon from my mission—there is always more to learn and to add to our faith.

I got lost on a ski trip in Sweden with my family. I was panicking a little and wondering what to do. I didn’t have my phone. When I was desperate for help, I took off my skis, got on my knees, and prayed that God could help me find a way back to my parents.
I felt a voice in my head, which seemed to say, “This is the path you need to follow. You’re on the right path.” It felt really calming, and I wasn’t panicking as much. I felt my heart slow down. I thought, “This has to be a message from heaven.”
I put my skis back on and just started skiing. When I got to my parents, I was really startled. I had found a way, through Jesus Christ.
If you’re having a tough time, pray to Heavenly Father in the name of Jesus Christ. They will help you if you really believe in Them.

When President Lee passed he was attended by President Marion G. Romney, his second counselor, and President Spencer W. Kimball, the President of the Council of the Twelve. President N. Eldon Tanner was in Arizona at the time. Brother Romney, as the representative of and counselor to President Lee, was in complete and total charge at the hospital. He gave President Lee a blessing. He felt the spirit of peace and satisfaction, the calm assurance that whatever eventuated would be right. He did not promise President Lee that he would be healed. The President had become ill very rapidly, just in a matter of hours or moments. Shortly after this blessing, he passed away. At the moment he passed, Brother Romney, in harmony with the system and the established tradition and custom of the Church, stepped aside, and President Spencer W. Kimball was then in complete charge and had total direction. President Kimball was at that moment the senior apostle of God on earth. And as the last heartbeat of President Lee ceased, the mantle of leadership passed to President Kimball, whose next heartbeat was that of the living oracle and presiding authority of God on earth. From that moment the Church continued under the direction of President Kimball.

Harmonious with that policy, that counsel, and that instruction—which has been followed in previous instances—the Council of the Twelve met in the upper room of the Salt Lake Temple on Sunday, December 30, at 3:00 p.m. for the purpose of reorganizing the First Presidency of the Church. Normally in that upper room there are three chairs occupied by the First Presidency and twelve chairs in a semicircle in front of them occupied by the members of the Council of the Twelve. On this occasion, however, there were fourteen chairs in the semicircle, because there were fourteen Brethren present who had been sustained and ordained and set apart as members of the Council of the Twelve.

We took our places in those chairs, and President Kimball presided in the meeting, which lasted for about 31/2 hours. In the course of this meeting President Kimball explained the business to be transacted, the things that might be done if the Brethren felt so guided and led. He explained that when the Prophet Joseph Smith was martyred, 3 1/2 years went by before President Young was formally chosen and installed as President of the Church. He noted that almost that period went by between President Young and President John Taylor and between President Taylor and President Wilford Woodruff but that in each succeeding instance the time had varied from four to eleven days, and we were meeting on the fourth day after the passing of President Lee.

He expressed himself as to what should be done, and he said that the proposition to be first considered was whether the First Presidency should then be reorganized or whether the Church should continue to function with the Council of the Twelve as its presiding officers. He then invited each member of the Twelve, commencing with Elder Ezra Taft Benson and continuing around the circle to me, to arise in turn and express himself frankly and fully and freely as to what ought to be done.

That is what transpired the first time that the Council of the Twelve met to reorganize the First Presidency of the Church. And in essence, thought-content, and certainly in spirit, precisely the same thing occurred on the thirtieth day of December last. Each member of the Council in turn, specifically and pointedly, expressed himself to the effect that now was the time to reorganize the First Presidency of the Church, that there should not be further delay, that the effective and proper operation of this great organization that we have from the Lord needed this administrative arrangement. Each one in turn expressed himself that President Spencer W. Kimball was the man whom the Lord wanted to preside over the Church; there was no question whatever about that. There was total and complete unity and harmony. The prayer that was in the heart of every person present was “Lord, show unto thy servants whom thou hast chosen to be President of the Church.” We did not want to do anything other than what the Lord wanted done.

President Young is quoted as having said, following the death of the Prophet, “I don’t care who presides in the Church. All I want to know is what the Lord thinks about it.” The Lord made manifest his will in that day, and that’s all we wanted to know for our day. And when we met for this most recent reorganization, the Lord made manifest his will to us. It was as though the voice of God had said to each one of us individually and to all of us collectively: “Let my servant Spencer step forth and receive the full power of the presiding priesthood in my Church and kingdom.”

And so after there had been full expression and consideration, Elder Ezra Taft Benson, the next one in seniority to President Kimball, made the formal motion that the First Presidency of the Church be reorganized; that President Spencer W. Kimball be sustained, ordained, and set apart as the President of the Church; as the prophet, seer, and revelator to the Church; and as the Trustee-in-Trust. This motion was adopted unanimously.

At this point President Kimball made a speech of acceptance—a very sweet, humble, appropriate expression. In the course of our meeting he had explained, as he did at President Lee’s funeral, that no man had prayed more sincerely and devoutly, with more feeling and desire, for the life, vigor, health, and continued spiritual and physical prosperity of President Lee than he had done. But President Kimball was willing to accept the will of the Lord and the mantle of leadership that had fallen upon him.

At this point, he chose his first counselor, President N. Eldon Tanner, who responded appropriately and sweetly; he then chose President Marion G. Romney to be the second, who similarly responded. Following these appointments, Brother Benson was sustained as the President of the Council of the Twelve. And then all those present placed their hands upon the head of President Kimball, and he was ordained and set apart, with President Benson being mouth, to serve as President of the Church and as the prophet, seer, and revelator for this time and this season.

Katya carried a large box as she walked out of her apartment building into the sunshine. It was summer, and for a few months, the weather was warm in her city in Russia. She set the box down on a bench where her friends Dima and Sonya were waiting.
“Here’s everything we need for our play!” Katya said. She opened the box and pulled out a plastic crown and pieces of purple, blue, and red cloth. With some creativity, these would make great costumes.
“What play are we doing?” Dima asked.
Katya smiled. “I think we should do ‘The Frog Princess’!” It was her favorite fairy tale. Katya smiled as she imagined herself playing the beautiful Vasilisa.
Sonya grabbed the blue cloth from the box and draped it around herself. “I want to be Vasilisa!” she said.
“Wait,” said Katya. “It was my idea. That means I should be Vasilisa.”
“You can be her,” said Sonya. But then she giggled. “When she’s a frog!”
Katya frowned and pulled the blue cloth away from Sonya. “But it’s my play!”
Sonya put her hands on her hips. “Nobody wants to play with you if you’re bossy. You’re a better frog than a princess.”
Katya felt tears in her eyes. She grabbed her box and ran inside, all the way up the stairs into her family’s apartment. She slammed the door behind her.
“What’s wrong?” Mama said. Katya burst into tears.
“Sonya is ruining everything!” Katya told Mama the whole story. “She said I was a frog!”
“Oh, Katyusha,” Mama said. Katyusha was Mama’s nickname for Katya. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t very nice of her.”
Just then there was a knock at the door. Mama went to answer it, but Katya ran to her room. She heard voices, and then Mama called to her. “Would you like to talk to Sonya? She has something to say to you.”
“No!” Katya yelled.
She could hear voices again, and then she heard the door close.
“I think Sonya is sorry,” Mama said.
“I don’t care,” Katya said. She pushed her face deeper into her pillow.
Mama stood by the door for a minute. “You know, sometimes when I’m really angry, I don’t want to forgive other people. Sometimes I need to ask Heavenly Father to help me want to forgive.” Then she walked away.
Katya was too angry to forgive. Sonya had hurt her feelings! But … being angry didn’t feel very good either.
She sighed and knelt by the side of her bed. Katya knew Heavenly Father wanted her to forgive Sonya. It was the right thing to do. But maybe Heavenly Father wanted Katya to forgive because it would help Katya feel better too.
“Heavenly Father, please help me forgive Sonya,” she said. “I really don’t want to, but I also don’t want to stay angry.”
She finished her prayer and took a deep breath. Katya felt her anger start to melt away, just a little. She could do this. She could forgive. She walked to Sonya’s apartment and knocked on the door.
Sonya opened it and started talking right away. “Katya, I’m sorry for what I said.”
“I forgive you,” said Katya. “And I’m sorry I took all my costumes back. You would be a good Vasilisa too. We can take turns.”
Sonya smiled. “OK. Can we go practice now? I’ll get Dima!”
Katya smiled back. “I’ll get the costumes!”

In the Book of Mormon, the Liahona provides Lehi and his family with a clear vision of the Lord’s path. In similar fashion, a group of young single adults from Utah helped Dr. Robert Christiansen, M.D., an LDS ophthalmologist from Salt Lake City, Utah, and his family give vision spiritually and physically in South America.
The Liahona Eye Care Mission, a privately operated group, consisted of 23 young single adults and the eight members of the Christiansen family. They offered “helping hands” in differing service projects during an August 2005 trip to Brazil and Argentina. The Christiansen family has invited single adults on various service trips to South and Central America for the past four years.
On one leg of their service trip, in El Dorado, Argentina, the group provided free eye exams and glasses. The Argentina trip was organized with the help of local members who rallied local news outlets and community leaders to publicize the service project.
Because of the widespread announcements of the free eye exams, it is estimated that more than 1,300 people benefited from the service provided by the Liahona group during their brief visit to Argentina.
In Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, the group assisted in the renovation of an old playground at a small preschool. Local Church members helped organize the day of service. The local members proved invaluable as they helped bridge the language gap. Side by side, the members of the group meticulously painted the faded yellow playground equipment, walls, and playhouse a bright blue and white.
Some members of the community watched curiously. Many hearts and doors were opened to the missionaries because of the display of service that transformed the public preschool.
Shannon Christiansen, who led the group with her husband, Robert, said of the experience, “What touched my heart was realizing that we were with our brothers and sisters, and we could all feel the love of being part of God’s eternal family.”

Before I came to teach at BYU, I—like many of you—had decisions before me as to which major to choose and, eventually, what to do with my life after graduation. I am thankful for prayer and for the inspiration that came through the Holy Ghost. When answers about which path to pursue did not come in the time I had hoped for, I learned to rely on faith and trust in God that whatever decision I moved forward with, He would guide me differently if that path was not the one I should take.

In my undergraduate years I initially started out in one major. However, in my second year, after receiving mostly C grades in a couple of courses for my major, I thought that I should be doing better in my major. I began seeking other avenues. In the university’s career center I searched through a book for potential career options. I stumbled across a description of a pediatric nutritionist. I became more excited as I read, and I felt that this might be my answer. I recalled taking a nutrition course in high school and thoroughly enjoying the class. After meeting with the academic counselor for nutrition science, I decided to switch majors. Given my current faculty position, you can probably guess that this major stuck. The course content was exciting to study, and I felt like I couldn’t wait to learn more in each class.

Looking back, I have been able to identify what made the difference, and this realization is the advice I share with students when they mention trying to decide on a major: find your passion and then work hard at it.

Recently, I have found that kind of blessing among the Saints in Korea who participated in the celebration of the 50th anniversary of the dedication of the Church in Korea and the 200th anniversary of Joseph Smith’s birth. I would like to tell you briefly about their sacrifices and the joy and blessings they received.

To celebrate the gospel, which gave hope and courage to people in Korea who were hurt so much by the Korean War, the members started to prepare for this celebration more than a year ago. Many of the members in Korea—the Primary, young men, young women, young single adults, Relief Society sisters, and others—gathered together to practice for the celebration. They prepared many traditional folk dances, including the flower dance, circle dance, fan dance, and farmer dance. They played drums; performed tae kwon do, drama, ballroom dances, and musical numbers; showed animation; and gave choir performances.

Because the young men produced such loud drum sounds, neighbors complained, and they had to stop practicing. It was really difficult to practice for long periods of time, but they did it with joy. I could not find anyone complaining about their effort and sacrifice when they had to get up at 4:00 in the morning to ride the bus for the joint practice. They felt great joy and gratitude for the blessings of the Lord and for the opportunity to show their appreciation.

Also many returned missionaries from overseas came back to Korea with their wives and children for this celebration. They made the sacrifice when they came to Korea on their missions a long time ago. This time they made another sacrifice of time and money to bring their families and participate in the celebration during the hot summer. But they rejoiced and were grateful for all the celebrations in which they participated.

Not long after my ordination as a teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood, I was called to serve as president of the quorum. Our adviser, Harold, was interested in us, and we knew it. One day he said to me, “Tom, you enjoy raising pigeons, don’t you?”
I responded with a warm, “Yes.”
Then he proffered, “How would you like me to give you a pair of purebred Birmingham Roller pigeons?”
This time I answered, “Yes, Sir!” You see, the pigeons I had were just the common variety, trapped on the roof of the Grant Elementary School.
He invited me to come to his home the next evening. The following day was one of the longest in my young life. I was awaiting my adviser’s return from work an hour before he arrived home. He took me to his pigeon loft, which was in the upper area of a small barn located at the rear of his yard. As I looked at the most beautiful pigeons I had yet seen, he said, “Select any male, and I will give you a female which is different from any other pigeon in the world.” I made my selection. He then placed in my hand a tiny hen pigeon. I asked what made her so different. He responded, “Look carefully, and you’ll notice that she has but one eye.” Sure enough, one eye was missing, a cat having done the damage. “Take them home to your loft,” he counseled. “Keep them in for about 10 days, and then turn them out to see if they will remain at your place.”
I followed Harold’s instructions. Upon his release, the male pigeon strutted about the roof of the loft, then returned inside to eat. But the one-eyed female was gone in an instant. I called Harold and asked, “Did that one-eyed pigeon return to your loft?”
“Come on over,” he said, “and we’ll have a look.”
As we walked from his kitchen door to the loft, my adviser commented, “Tom, you are the president of the teachers quorum.” This, of course, I already knew. Then he added, “What are you going to do to activate Bob, who is a member of your quorum?”
I answered, “I’ll have him at quorum meeting this week.”
Then he reached up to a special nest and handed me the one-eyed pigeon. “Keep her in a few more days and try again.” This I did, and once more she disappeared. Again the experience: “Come on over, and we’ll see if she returned home.” Came the comment as we walked to the loft, “Congratulations on getting Bob to priesthood meeting. Now what are you and Bob going to do to activate Bill?”
“We’ll have him there next week,” I volunteered.
This experience was repeated over and over again. I was a grown man before I fully realized that indeed Harold, my adviser, had given me a special pigeon, the only pigeon in his loft he knew would return every time she was released. It was his inspired way of having an ideal personal priesthood interview with the president of the teachers quorum every two weeks. I owe a lot to that one-eyed pigeon. I owe more to that quorum adviser. He had the patience and the skill to help me prepare for the responsibilities which lay ahead.