Gospel Story Finder

When missionary couple David and Theresa Nish, from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, noticed a need for improved oral hygiene for children living in Saint Lucia, they knew it was time to do something about it.
Enlisting the help of the Church’s Welfare and Self-Reliance Services Department, young Latter-day Saint volunteers, the Saint Lucia Government and local school administrators, the Dental Hygiene Project was born.
The young women were given the responsibility of purchasing the supplies needed for the dental hygiene kits. They began by enquiring at various shops to find the best value for their money.
Eventually 3,200 toothbrushes, 3,200 tubes of toothpaste and 3,200 plastic cups were purchased and then assembled into 3,200 zipper-lock plastic bags for distribution by the Nishes to local primary schools.
The project was funded by Latter-day Saint Charities which receives donations from Latter-day Saints and others around the world.
“There are few dental facilities or clinics in the communities,” Sister Nish says. “And when they get dental decay and their teeth fall out, that is it, they don’t have any more teeth.”
“We found they weren’t brushing their teeth adequately” David says. “We realized if we got involved at the primary school level there was probably a better chance for children to understand about oral hygiene.”
The Dental Hygiene Project has been moving forward since January 2020 under the direction of the couple, and now includes primary and special-ed schools.
The Nishes’ work with school leaders to set up appointments to teach the children and distribute the dental hygiene kits.
They delight the younger children with role play and stories that teach why brushing your teeth is important.
“The response and gratitude from the local school administrators for the Church’s help has been overwhelming,” David said. “Most were astounded that we gave the dental kits out with no strings attached.”
The Dental Hygiene Project is one of many service projects with which the couple have been involved. Missionaries for just over a year in Saint Lucia, the Nishes spend their days and most evenings looking for ways to serve the people.
“We work with people. We talk to people, we hear what their problems are,' Sister Nish says.
Elder Nish continued, “A lot of what we do—we don’t know why we do it at the time—but a month or two or three months down the line it just all seems to fall into place. It really is not us, it’s the Lord working through us.”

The beauty and eloquence of an expression of gratitude is reflected in a newspaper story of some years ago:
The District of Columbia police auctioned off about 100 unclaimed bicycles Friday. “One dollar,” said an 11-year-old boy as the bidding opened on the first bike. The bidding, however, went much higher. “One dollar,” the boy repeated hopefully each time another bike came up.
The auctioneer, who had been auctioning stolen or lost bikes for 43 years, noticed that the boy’s hopes seemed to soar higher whenever a racer-type bicycle was put up.
Then there was just one racer left. The bidding went to eight dollars. “Sold to that boy over there for nine dollars!” said the auctioneer. He took eight dollars from his own pocket and asked the boy for his dollar. The youngster turned it over in pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters—took his bike, and started to leave. But he went only a few feet. Carefully parking his new possession, he went back, gratefully threw his arms around the auctioneer’s neck, and cried.

When I was in my eleventh year of school I contracted a kidney disease. Over the next few years my health gradually declined until my condition became critical. Despite the best medical care, the disease eventually destroyed both of my kidneys.

In January 1968 I was admitted to the University of Washington Health Center. My parents were called and told that my condition was so poor that I might not survive the night.

My father and a close friend administered to me; then, my mother took a copy of my patriarchal blessing from her purse and read several passages. She bore her testimony, then handed me the blessing. “You have a great mission to fulfill,” she said quietly, “and the Lord wants to help. But you need to do your part, too, Brent.” She leaned over and kissed me good night.

My father bore his testimony, shook my hand, and hit me lightly on the chest.

“Good night,” he said. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

Then I was alone in the quiet solitude of my hospital room—alone with my thoughts, memories, and a blessing.

As I thought about my mother’s admonition, I began to reach out to my Father in Heaven, something I had never really done before. As I prayed, I at first tasted the bitterness of a life that had failed to reach its potential. But as I continued to pray, the bitterness subsided, and I felt as if a tremendous burden had been lifted from me. I was at peace again—warm, comforted, and assured that my prayer was being answered. I knew in my heart that all would be well.

No one could ask for a finer day, Josiah Kimball thought, so clean and sparkling and smelling of summer that it makes me want to stop everything and hold tight to this minute, never to let it slip away.
Josiah smiled at the idea. He tipped his head back and mimicked a meadowlark hidden in the grass.
“Was that you, ’Siah?” Emily Jane exclaimed. “Sometimes you sound more like birds than birds do.”
Josiah laughed at her praise, then tried walking backward on the rocks across the shallow stream. But two of them were too far apart for backward stepping. He had to turn for that space. Tillman Reid dropped down from a tree to try walking the rocks. He couldn’t do even as well as Josiah had, and he fell in the water.
At last Josiah sighed. “I guess we have to get on home to help with chores.”
“I have to pick peas for Mama before dark.” Emily Jane sounded as reluctant as Josiah felt.
“Come play again soon,” Tillman invited.
“We stayed too long, didn’t we, ’Siah?” Emily Jane asked hesitantly.
“Yes, but we can hurry. And the sun’s just about down.”
His sister nodded her head in agreement. When they came to their pasture fence, Josiah suddenly stopped.
“Emie, we could cut through the pasture this once,” he suggested, “and save all that way around by the lane.”
“But ’Siah,” Emily Jane took a quick breath, “Papa wouldn’t like it. He’s told us—”
“I don’t see that old Jersey bull anywhere,” Josiah persisted. “He’s probably grazed his fill and is lying down under the cottonwoods. Come on, Emie, it’s getting late. We can run.”
After a moment Emily Jane followed Josiah under the fence.
Once on the pasture side of the wire strands, they stood without moving. “I don’t see that bull anywhere,” Josiah whispered. The shadows were growing long and heavy but no movement was seen.
“Stay close behind,” Josiah instructed.
He set off at a quick trot, Emily Jane at his heels.
“ ’Siah!” Emily Jane’s voice made no more sound than the whispering of their feet in the grass, but he heard.
At the same moment, Josiah saw a dark shadow move in the cluster of pinon pines. A streak of light glinted from curved horns as the bull gave a menacing toss of his head.
“Run, Emie!” Josiah commanded. “Go back!”
Emily Jane could run fast when she needed to, and Josiah kept right behind her.
They could hear the outraged bellow and the thump of hoofbeats of the bull following them, growing closer.
Almost side by side they dropped to the ground to squeeze under the bottom strand of wire. Josiah’s hip pocket snagged on a barb.
Catching his breath, Josiah turned to his sister. “You all right, Emie?”
She nodded, “Th-that’s why Papa said never to go in the pasture. He knew. And—and—”
They stared at the bull through the wires. The immense animal, knowing they were out of reach, had stopped and was pawing the ground and throwing sand and dirt every which way.
“We’ve got to run, Emie. All that time wasted, and now we still have to go the long way.”
“I can’t, ’Siah. Even if Papa and Mama are cross, I can’t run any more—not for a little while.”
Partway up the lane, Josiah paused. “Emie—” He looked away, then glanced back. “Let’s not mention the pasture. We can just say we were late leaving the Reids.”
“I guess,” Emily Jane agreed.
Mama’s face was set in straight lines as they hurried up to the house and stammered out their excuse.
“Well, you’ll be till dark finishing your work,” she said. And then she smiled. “It has been a lovely day and hard to think of work. But get busy now, or you’ll not finish. Your father’s waiting, ’Siah.”
Papa had more questions than Mama had, but at last he said, “I guess there’s been no harm done this time, son. But you must learn to do as you’re told.”
At supper Josiah had trouble looking straight at Papa or Mama. Twice he glanced at Emily Jane, but she wouldn’t look at him. When the supper dishes were finished, they all went to the front porch to cool off.
“You two are certainly quiet,” Mama laughed. “You must have worn yourselves out with play.”
Papa said, “They act wearier than during haying season. We’d better keep them busy at work from now on.”
Josiah made a laughing sound, but he didn’t feel like laughing. Deep inside of him was a shamed feeling that wouldn’t let go.
“ ’Siah, you tell.” Emily Jane’s voice came out of the darkness.
As if he had been waiting for those words, Josiah started to talk. Papa and Mama didn’t say a word, though the swing had stopped moving.
“At chores, you said no harm had been done. But it had, by our not telling.” Josiah hesitated. There was heavy silence.
After a moment Emily Jane continued. “That bull sounded so close! I’m still scared.”
“It’s been a harsh lesson,” Papa said. “Be sure you’ve learned well.” His voice dropped lower, sounding more like Papa. “And by telling, you’ve made a beginning.”
The swish-away of the swing started up again.
Josiah took a deep gulp of fresh air. It smelled of Mama’s flower garden. This minute was too good to let slip away and be past. He held it for as long as it would stay.

Now 15 years old, I went to live with a foster family for about a year. That was when the fifth miracle came. While sleigh riding with two friends, I met an LDS family with two nice daughters. During the ride home, one of the daughters spoke up, saying, “I think the Lord wants us to adopt Ephrem Smith.” Remarkably, the other three members of the family had also received the same inspiration. The father worked with the Department of Social Services, and soon I moved to my new home. From the very beginning my amazing new father gave me agency. For example, he explained that their family goes to church on Sundays. He allowed me to choose to join them or stay home; he said that they still would love me if I chose not to attend church. I chose to attend church, and I have since made many other righteous decisions.

In July 2011, the Atiwa District in Ghana experienced an unusual amount of rain. After a day or two, and without warning, the local rivers overflowed their banks and flooded the countryside. This deluge of water turned the village of Abomosu into an island, as well as the adjacent villages of Asunafo and Sankubenase. The flood not only isolated these villages, but also flooded their farms and swept away most of their crops.
For the small branches of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, these were perilous times. Their main supply of food was gone, many homes were flooded, and some were cut off from their families and loved ones.
Seth Oppong, President of the Abomosu District, was in Abomosu when the river flooded, cutting him off from his village of Asunafo and his small family. As the extent of the danger began to dawn on him and other priesthood leaders in the town, they quickly gathered at the local branch building to counsel together and ask the Lord to help them.
Elder James Dalton, who along with his wife Pam, had just arrived in Abomosu six weeks earlier as MLS missionaries, were among the eight priesthood leaders who met in the local branch building to discuss the situation.
After pleading with the Lord to protect the people and to guide them in responding to the danger, they quickly developed their plan: first, they needed to account for all the members of the branch; second, they needed to take inventory of the food sources that were available to them; and third, they needed to distribute the food according to the needs of each family. As they discussed feeding the local members, they quickly realized they could not ignore their nonmember neighbors and friends, so they were added to the distribution list as well.
Their plan was quickly passed on by cell phone to the other branch presidents in surrounding villages. The goal was to locate every member and identify food sources and report back in two hours.
Within two hours, the priesthood leaders reported back. In Abomosu, all but three members of the branch had been accounted for (they were later found and rescued). The report was that there was not much food available. Some members had food storage and were willing to share.
Stephen Abu, the former district president and current stake patriarch, had a field of corn near Abomosu that was located high enough to avoid the flood waters. He told the district president that the corn was not ready for harvest, but they were welcome to take whatever they needed. Two young missionaries and several members were given the keys to Elder Dalton’s truck and told to fill the truck with corn. When the missionaries returned, the back of the truck and the back seat of the truck were completely filled with corn. They spent the rest of the day, driving through the village, handing out corn to members of the Church and their neighbors.
That night the priesthood leaders met again. They had enough corn to feed the village for a couple of days, but how would they be able to feed them after that? They knelt and prayed that the Lord would help them find a way to keep the people from starving.
The next morning, another member of the Church came forward and said that they had some corn that they were drying to be ground into meal. It was not completely dry, but they could have it to help feed the people. Those who had food storage continued to help those in need. Several days later, the two young missionaries and several local members went back to the small corn field of Stephen Abu to see if they could find any more corn that could be picked. Because the flood waters were so high, they needed rafts to get to the farm and bring the corn back. No one expected much, but when the missionaries returned, they had another load of corn. This little miracle continued four or five times until they were able to find additional sources of food, some of which came from friends and relatives and the Church in Accra.
In talking about the flood and the efforts made to take care of the people in Abomosu, Brother Abu said, “Isn’t the Lord wonderful! The more you give, the more he gives back.” Both Brother Abu and President Oppong referenced the Savior in feeding the 5,000 as they reflected on how the Lord had preserved them.
Elder Dalton reflected on the words of the Prophet Elijah to the widow of Zarephath, “make me thereof a little cake first, and bring it unto me, and after make for thee and for thy son.
“For thus saith the Lord God of Israel, The barrel of meal shall not waste, neither shall the cruse of oil fail . . .
“And she went and did according to the saying of Elijah: and she, and he, and her house, did eat many days.” (1 Kings 17:13–15)

Those first new green shoots popping up through powdery brown soil fill the gardener’s soul with joy—his love and care have paid off! There’s growth! And even if the gardener is not there to continue to watch the growth of the plants, his work lives on.
Such a gardener was Bruce Drennan, a young missionary whose love for the Lord and the gospel was no secret. He planted the seeds of testimony among friends, family, and the people of the small Aymara Indian village of Suriquina, Bolivia, where he and his companion Kevin Bons died after being overcome by carbon monoxide fumes from a faulty heater in their living quarters on December 22, 1981.
Many of those seeds he planted have been sprouting these past few years.
Everyone in his high school knew Bruce for his leadership as senior class president and his commitment to the Church. He had a way of injecting a big dose of fun and life into just about everything he touched. It might have been getting a bunch of friends together to take the local missionaries out to breakfast. Or planning the first senior class trip to Disneyland. Or yelling “Let’s be the nerd bus!” and herding kids onto the bus when arguments arose over who should go on which bus for a school trip. Or staying up all night to put together the program for a youth conference.
On top of all his activities, he still managed to keep a 4.0 grade point average and win a four-year scholarship to BYU. As one of his teachers wrote when Bruce was applying for a scholarship, “A room full of Bruce Drennans would put any teacher in seventh heaven.”
He was committed to going on a mission and influenced his friends to do the same. “He really encouraged me to go on a mission when I needed the encouragement at a certain time in my life,” said his friend Ed Belliston. “He was always a good example and brought out abilities in me that I didn’t know I had. After I left on my mission and I heard of his death, the memory of Bruce would get me fired up again. He made me work harder.” Dean Teach, another friend, told his friend Lisa Anderson that if it hadn’t been for Bruce, he wouldn’t have gone on his mission.
While in the Missionary Training Center, Bruce Drennan wrote a letter bearing his testimony to one of his good friends, Lisa King, who is not a member of the Church. That same day he wrote in his journal, “I wrote Lisa King today. In the letter I bore my testimony and told her why I’m going on a mission. I don’t know what she’s going to think, but I guess that it doesn’t matter too much if she thinks I’m a jerk.”
Though Bruce didn’t know it, that testimony he wrote to Lisa would be sent to hundreds of people after his death, attached to the flyleaf of copies of the Book of Mormon sent by relatives and friends in his stake. And his testimony that had touched so many people in Suriquina, Bolivia, would continue to touch lives.
When the news of Bruce’s death reached his hometown of Ukiah, California, it struck a nerve in the community. Bruce was well known and loved. Grace Jones, whose Church assignment is to work with the media in Ukiah, received many of the questions about what had happened. She decided to let people really know what Bruce was doing in Bolivia—preaching the gospel of Jesus Christ.
“We had so many inquiries from newspapers and radio stations about Bruce, that we decided it would be a good idea to let others know what he had been teaching,” said Sister Jones. “Why not give out copies of the Book of Mormon in his memory during the remaining 18 months he would have been serving as a missionary? I discussed the idea with the stake presidency, and they approved it. And Bruce’s family accepted the idea wholeheartedly.”
So under Sister Jones’s direction and with Lisa King’s permission, Bruce’s picture and testimony were put in hundreds of copies of the Book of Mormon. His testimony continued to influence many people.
Wrote Bruce, “A missionary’s sole purpose in the Mormon church is to teach the gospel of Christ to all those who are willing and ready to receive it. I know that Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father appeared to a man named Joseph Smith and restored the gospel to the earth. I know that Christ and Heavenly Father live today and have a tremendous love for us. I know that we lived before this earth and that we came down here for a purpose. The Book of Mormon is an additional witness of Christ to the Bible. Both are the word of God. These things are so true; they are so very important. It is because of these things that I am going on a mission. I hope you can understand and will receive these things with an open mind and heart.”
Also included in the copies of the Book of Mormon were two excerpts from his journal. The first one was about a mission experience. “I had been praying about this meeting quite a bit, that we would have the Spirit with us and that the people would feel it. Upon teaching, I felt like I was helped out with the language. Some words just came to me without having to think. By the time we finished, it was dark and the room was full. There were probably 100 people there.”
The second journal excerpt was about the blessings. “I’m so grateful for the world we have. If I ever want to put myself in a spiritual mood, all I have to do is look for the beauty in the world. I feel so small and insignificant compared to the grandeur of the world. It is like God has to love us to have given us all that He has.”
Many wards in the Ukiah Stake asked if they could participate in the Book of Mormon project. Posters were made and put in the foyers of participating wards. When a referral card was filled out and returned to the stake or full-time missionaries, the name of the requesting person was embossed in gold on the hardback cover of a Book of Mormon for that person, with Bruce’s testimony and photo included. Over 500 copies of Bruce’s testimony were printed the first time, and more were later printed.
“It was overwhelming! We were printing names on books like you couldn’t believe!” said Bruce Bates, Ukiah stake mission president. The books were either given to the recipient by the person making the referral or by the missionaries.
Bishop Drennan, Bruce’s father, probably gave out more books than anyone else. Manager of a department store in Ukiah, he posted a copy of a newspaper article telling about the Book of Mormon project on the bulletin board at his store. Many of his employees asked for copies.
“A Catholic friend of Bruce’s was extremely cooperative in sending his friends copies,” added Bishop Drennan. “She looked up addresses and made sure people got the books. At first we decided to continue giving the books for the period of time Bruce would have been on his mission, but it’s carried on past that time. I think the whole situation has helped my wife and me decide to go on a full-time mission when we retire.”
Sister Drennan, Bruce’s mother, also shared the books with people. “Because of the circumstances, it was easier for us to do what we should be doing anyway, sharing the Book of Mormon with our friends and neighbors,” she said.
Bruce’s brother David, formerly student body president at Ukiah High School, now serving a mission in Spain, gave out several books, and one friend took the missionary discussions because of the gift. “There was a blessing that came along with the trauma of Bruce’s death,” said David. “It made me open up more about the Church. It became easier to talk to people about it.”
Twelve-year-old Matt McKell gave one of the books to his junior high school social studies teacher. “It scared me a little, but he said he knew the Drennan boys and that he would read it,” said Matt.
Lynn Budrow, then eleven, gave one to her fifth-grade teacher. “I told her it was from Bruce, and she said she really wanted it,” said Lynn.
Ken Morgan, custodian at Ukiah High School, gave five books to teachers and personnel at the high school. The librarian asked for two copies, one for herself and one to put in the school library. Ken’s wife works at an elementary school, where she gave ten books to teachers and parents.
“The Book of Mormon I received I’ll keep forever, even though I’m not Mormon,” said Mary Beth Morris, one of Bruce’s friends. “Bruce would write and tell me how many baptisms he was doing. I thought his mission was neat, because I knew he would do a good job at whatever he did. He was an example for a lot of people.”
Georgia Portlock in the Drennan’s ward gave out many books. “I love to talk about the Church, and it made me feel great to give the books to people,” she said. “At least they’ll have a copy of the Book of Mormon, and I don’t care if it sits on their shelf for a while. One day something will come up and they’ll read it and understand it. That’s what happened to me. My son gave me a Book of Mormon, and it sat on the shelf for ten years until I read it. When I did, it. was like I was burning up, and in three weeks I asked to be baptized.”
Sister Portlock sent a copy of the book with Bruce’s testimony to her granddaughter Sherry Siekert in Wisconsin. And a little while later, Sister Portlock got a call from Sherry asking Brother Portlock to come out and baptize her.
“I had been brought up hearing about the Mormons but not knowing anything about them,” said Sherry. “When I got the book, I started to read it—I’ve no idea what made me open the book. I just did. Two elders had come by before and left a pamphlet in the house, and I read it. Maybe that’s one reason I started to read the book.
“After I talked to the missionaries a while, I called my father in Chicago and said, ‘It all sounds so good to me. It’s like everything I’ve always wanted to know all my life.’ My father’s interested in the Church now, too.”
The gospel has had a great impact in Sherry’s life. “I don’t feel like I have to go out and do a lot of wild things to have fun. Fun is being with good friends and family now. I appreciate them more, and I’m not afraid of death anymore. I work in a nursing home, and when I see people dying, I feel like they’re going to something better. I’ve also found that if you stand by your standards and don’t let your peers pressure you into things you know are wrong, they’ll respect you more than if you’d just gone along. This last year since I’ve been baptized has been great.”
So Bruce Drennan’s missionary work continues on as his example inspires others to plant, nurture, and harvest. The impact of his testimony may never be fully measured.
Two flowering nectarine trees, the first of the kind in Ukiah, have been dedicated to Bruce at his high school, along with a plaque in his memory. “The trees here will grow and be strong, just as Bruce was strong,” said his friend Mary Morris.
Eugene F. Olsen, acting mission president of the Bolivia La Paz Mission at the time of Bruce’s death, wrote to Bruce’s parents: “Elder Bons and Elder Drennan were among the best missionaries in the entire mission. The fact that they were assigned to the Aymara program at all is in itself a high recommendation as only the very most dedicated and committed missionaries are called to that program because of the fact that the minimal supervision possible in these remote areas makes self-supervision and total dependability an absolute necessity.”
In a letter to Bishop and Sister Drennan shortly after Bruce’s death, Elder Mike Hanley of Bruce’s mission summed up the impact Elder Bruce Drennan had in the lives of a few—and continues to have: “I wanted you to know about the work in Suriquina, where Elder Drennan was working. In January, the elders in Suriquina had 25 baptisms. That was excellent for them. However, they did even better in February—they had 37. They were the highest baptizing companionship in all Bolivia. Suriquina is booming, and Brother and Sister Drennan, I know Elder Drennan planted some of those seeds. He made a big sacrifice, but these people will be grateful to him throughout eternity. He helped them receive the greatest gift they’ll ever have—the gift that’ll carry them to eternal life. I’m sure Elder Drennan is happy. We should be, too.”
“But if ye will nourish the word, yea, nourish the tree as it beginneth to grow, by your faith with great diligence, and with patience, looking forward to the fruit thereof, it shall take root; and behold it shall be a tree springing up unto everlasting life” (Alma 32:41).

Whenever we seek for true testimony we come, finally, to ordinary men and women and children.
Let me quote from the diary of Joseph Millett, a little-known missionary of an earlier time. Called on a mission to Canada, he went alone and on foot. In Canada, during the wintertime, he said:
“I felt my weakness. A poor, ill-clothed, ignorant boy in my teens, thousands of miles from home among strangers.
“The promise in my blessing and the encouraging words of President Young to me, with the faith I had in the gospel, kept me up.
“Many times I would turn into the woods … in some desolate place with a heart full, wet eyes, to call on my master for strength or aid.
“I believed the Gospel of Christ. I had never preached it. I knew not where to find it in the scriptures.”
That didn’t matter so much, for, “I had to give my Bible to the boatman at Digby for passage across the sound.”
Years later, Joseph Millett, with his large family, was suffering through very, very difficult times. He wrote in his journal:
“One of my children came in and said that Brother Newton Hall’s folks was out of bread, had none that day.
“I divided our flour in a sack to send up to Brother Hall. Just then Brother Hall came.
“Says I, ‘Brother Hall, are you out of flour?’
“‘Brother Millett, we have none.’
“‘Well, Brother Hall, there is some in that sack. I have divided and was going to send it to you. Your children told mine that you was out.’
“Brother Hall began to cry. He said he had tried others, but could not get any. He went to the cedars and prayed to the Lord, and the Lord told him to go to Joseph Millett.
“‘Well Brother Hall, you needn’t bring this back. If the Lord sent you for it you don’t owe me for it.’”
That night Joseph Millett recorded a remarkable sentence in his journal:
“You can’t tell me how good it made me feel to know that the Lord knew there was such a person as Joseph Millett” (Diary of Joseph Millett, holograph, Archives of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Salt Lake City).

At a time when the family and the necessity of family life are increasingly in question and under attack, 35 young members of the Northwest First Ward, Wilmette Illinois Stake, have found a way to speak out strongly in favor of them. For their annual service project, the youth of the ward decided to present a pro-family program, which eventually evolved into a series of nine performances throughout the Chicago area.
Everyone in the ward between the ages of 12 and 18 was invited to participate. The young people wrote skits and musical presentations based on their own experiences in family life and their personal belief that it’s worth the effort. Some of the topics treated were: why parents don’t see their children’s point of view while children don’t see the parents’; the story of a boy from a broken home who finally finds his father and is told, “I never visited you because I didn’t want to see you,” and how he copes with such rejection; the feelings of a young man who wonders why his father never comes to see his wrestling matches, and what happens when he finally does; the triumph of a young woman who (in song) shows her father how much she loves him.
Some of the reactions: One of the young men in the cast was so affected by the program that he decided to accept a mission call. One young lady in the audience was so touched she started taking the missionary discussions and has since been baptized. A sociology teacher who saw the program at his high school changed his mind about never having a family. An Indonesian exchange student came up after the performance and said she appreciated her family much more after having seen the show. At an old folks’ home, one of the men stood up and said, “I’m Catholic; most of us here are Presbyterian or Lutheran; but these kids have just made us all saints.” The program was endorsed for presentation to sociology classes at local high schools, and the young people have been offered the chance to perform at many college campuses.
All of the cast members wore T-shirts with the inscription “Family Harmony.” Banners with the word Love were attached to curtains. Cast members divided into groups of various sizes, carrying numbers to emphasize that families come in a variety of sizes and combinations. A “harmonizer” box sounded an alarm when a situation demanding attention and understanding presented itself on stage. At the end of each hour-long performance, cast members took turns being interviewed by the audience about their feelings concerning the family and about their involvement in the show. “People were surprised,” one participant said, “to find out we were doing it all for free.”
The youth goals in originating the program were “to help the community as a whole with one large service project instead of a lot of little ones, and to find a new way to serve.” If service can be defined as arousing someone’s conscience, this was a service project that worked.

When I was growing up, I loved Easter. This day involved Easter egg hunts and getting baskets of chocolate bunnies and marshmallow chicks.
But as I got older, instead of getting excited for Easter, I saw it as another lonely holiday to avoid. At age 30, I am still unmarried and have no children. And for the longest time, I felt like Easter wasn’t a holiday I could celebrate as a single woman.
How do you have an Easter egg hunt by yourself?
It wasn’t until the April 2023 general conference that I learned that Easter was a holiday I could—and should— be celebrating, regardless of my marital status.
Quoting N. T. Wright, Elder Gary E. Stevenson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles said: “We should be taking steps to celebrate Easter in creative new ways: in art, literature, children’s games, poetry, music, dance, festivals, bells, special concerts. … This is our greatest festival. Take Christmas away, and in biblical terms you lose two chapters at the front of Matthew and Luke, nothing else. Take Easter away, and you don’t have a New Testament; you don’t have a Christianity.”1
I realized then that I was doing the Savior a great disservice by limiting Easter celebrations to bunnies and Easter egg hunts. I needed to rethink my Easter traditions to include Him as the central figure for why I even celebrate the holiday—and I realized that they would be even more meaningful than my childhood traditions.
When we focus on the secular ways of celebrating Easter—with plastic eggs and chocolate—it can be easy to feel that there isn’t a way to celebrate as a single adult or as a married adult without children.
But when we focus on what Easter really represents—Jesus Christ’s triumph over sin and death—then we can come to realize that there are so many ways to make this day special.
With my changed perspective, I decided I wanted my Easter to celebrate Jesus Christ and all that He has done for me.
And surprisingly, with this new focus, finding new traditions was a lot easier than I thought it would be. Culturally, there are only a handful of traditions to choose from when celebrating a secular Easter, but when celebrating Jesus Christ, there are so many more possibilities!
First, I bought new decorations that reminded me of Jesus Christ and springtime. One was a plant called a peace lily, which served as a reminder of Jesus Christ’s peace when I looked at it in my apartment (see John 14:26–27).
Second, I planned to take a hike a few days before Easter. I decided that this hike would be a focused time for me to disconnect from media and the busyness of the world and take time to think about Christ.
Third, I took President Russell M. Nelson’s challenge to read 3 Nephi 11—when Christ visits the Americas.2
When I read the first seventeen verses, like Elder Stevenson had with his family, I felt a similar appreciation for the wonderful Easter message the Book of Mormon holds. “In reality,” he declares, “the Book of Mormon shares the greatest Easter story ever told. Let it not be the greatest Easter story never told.”3
And finally, I attended sacrament meeting and focused fully on the Savior and what His atoning sacrifice means for me as I renew my covenants.
This made all the difference in feeling gratitude for Jesus Christ on this beautiful holiday and in feeling like I had a place as a single adult.
Changing my perspective on celebrating Easter helped me also shift my focus around other holidays. Because holiday celebrations are so often centered on family, sometimes it can make it hard to know how to make celebrations meaningful as a single adult.
But Elder Stevenson helped me realize that there is a way for me to participate not just in the miracle of Easter but in every holiday. I just need to change my focus.
So now, instead of getting wrapped up in Santa Claus during Christmastime and the Easter bunny in the spring, I get wrapped up in Christ! I look forward to holidays with a new excitement because I’ve realized that they can bring me joy and remind me of what matters most.
When holidays come, instead of becoming lonely and discouraged, I can connect with loved ones and friends. I can try to focus on Jesus Christ—the true reason for our holiday seasons. And with Him, I can find sweet fulfillment and excitement in celebrating Him as my Savior.

When we arrived in Merthyr, the scene had already been set by those who had been directing our lives for the past year. It felt as though we were in a giant genealogical chess game over which we had no control. Terry was beginning to feel the same forces in action as well. Every morning he would present us with a list of places we would visit that day. One day he showed us his list, which had two sides. He said that he created one list the night before and then this morning, for some unknown reason, he changed it and added a new place: Gadfield Elm Chapel in Gloucestershire. He said he didn’t know why he added it but thought it would be interesting for us to see. Of course, we acquiesced.
Miracle number eight: As we got to Gadfield Elm we discovered the reason. The first ownership of the chapel was given to Wilford Woodruff by the United Brethren, but it rested on or near brother Benbow’s farm. Many of the early members were baptized in Benbow’s pond. And Benbow was the maiden name of Terry’s wife. Terry was stunned. He kept saying he had no idea why he had changed the itinerary for the day, but we all knew why.

Following the directions of Church leaders was an accepted thing to Don McBride. When he was nine years old, his father had accepted a call from President John Taylor to leave his home in Santaquin, Utah, to colonize the Gila Valley area of Arizona. Life was hard there; scarce rainfall made farming difficult. Water was obtained only by irrigation. Don and his brothers helped support the family by freighting goods across Indian territory.
On January 13, 1897, Don McBride married Mary LaPreal Nuttal. In October of that year, their son, Donald, was born. When the call came from the First Presidency to serve a mission in the Samoan Islands, Don, with the support of his wife, accepted immediately.
In June 1898 Elder McBride, with only a few dollars in his pockets, left for Salt Lake City to be set apart for his mission. There he received a special blessing from a General Authority of the Church. The blessing contained a promise that if he would fill an honorable mission, obeying those who were in authority over him, he would have power to command the winds and waves of the sea to be still.
Elder McBride thought little of this promise upon his arrival in Samoa. He worked diligently to master the Samoan language. In his mission journal he wrote, “Fasted all day and prayed to the Lord in secret to help me learn the language. … I study very hard to get the language, but it is slow work.” Then, as he began to feel more sure of the language, he started to offer prayers and to bear his testimony at meetings and to teach in the Church-organized schools. He even helped in translating the Bible into Samoan.
Elder McBride encountered prejudice and opposition from the ministers of other churches on the islands. He wrote, “In looking around I find the field is by no means clear and prejudice staring me in the face as the Teachers have forbidden anyone attending our meetings.”
He learned to enjoy the unaccustomed food delicacies of the Samoan people and mentions feasting on roasted bat, ula (breadfruit), and palela (a kind of sea worm). He also grew to appreciate their sincere friendliness and hospitality.
Elder McBride and his companion were called to travel to the island of Savaii to prepare for a conference to be held there. As they drew near the island in a boat, a fierce inland wind suddenly forced them back out to sea. Having no compass, they knew that they would be lost if they didn’t keep the island in sight. They and the Samoan men with them took turns rowing until all were exhausted, their hands blistered and raw.
Suddenly Elder McBride remembered the blessing that had been given to him. He arose at once and stretched forth his hands. In the name of Jesus Christ he commanded the winds and the waves to be still. Immediately the winds subsided, and the terrifying waves became peaceful, astonishing the frightened natives. Although the men were now far out to sea, they turned their boat toward the island and rowed to it safely.
Don Carlos McBride served two missions to the Samoan Islands, spending a total of nearly seven years there. In 1910, during his second mission, he was called to be the mission president. Despite the hardships and sacrifice involved, he served with obedience and love.

The Lord not only knows who we are, He knows where we are, and He leads us to do good. One day a mother I know felt impressed to call her daughter. (This kind of thing happens to mothers all the time.) It was the middle of the day, and Mom was at work, which made the call out of the ordinary. To her surprise, her son-in-law answered the phone—he’s not usually home on a workday either. As he handed the phone to his wife, he said, “It’s your mother with her usual inspiration.”

They had just been to the doctor. She came on the phone, close to tears, and said, “The ultrasound shows the cord is double-wrapped around the baby’s neck. The doctor says we have no choice but to do a C-section and soon.” Then came the real cause for the distress: “And he says I can’t lift anything heavier than the new baby for four weeks!” She needed reassurance before going into the surgery that the Lord knew her need and loved her—and that there would be help tending the three little ones at home, who were scarcely more than babies themselves. When mothers—and fathers—pray for the Lord to bless and strengthen their families, He often shows them the way.

“Stop daydreaming, Abigail,” Mother scolded, “and get the table ready for supper. Your father will be along any minute, hungry and tired after working all day in the fields.”
Abigail hurried; she had been daydreaming about her old home. She knew Mother needed her help, but it was hard not to think about the friends and fun she had left in England before they had come to the New World.
On her way to the well for the milk and butter, Abigail stopped. Gazing at the cornfield and then at the shadow-laden hills beyond increased her loneliness.
Mother hadn’t let her go to see her friend Bess today because there had been too much to do. Bess had a doll and some doll dresses she had sewed, and Abigail had wanted to go and help make another costume for the doll. Abigail’s own doll had been left behind in England when they’d come to the colony.
Abigail drew the pail with milk and butter from the well, where it stayed cool between meals, and took it back up the path and into the cabin. Mother was putting hot bread on the table beside a steaming bowl of stew.
Father came in from the bench where he had just washed up, and they sat down to supper together. This was the best part of the day for Abigail. She liked it when Father was in the cabin. He usually sat by the fireplace and carved things after supper until he went to bed.
He had carved their spoons and Mother’s big stirring paddle. He said there were other things he wanted to carve as soon as the long winter evenings began. During the summer Father worked late in the fields and only had time to do a little carving after Mother and Abigail were in bed.
Tonight he seemed very tired, but he smiled when he called Abigail to him by the fireside. He held out some carved pieces for her to see.
“Why, Father!” Abigail cried. “I see feet and arms, and that must be a head and body!” She looked at her father, and his eyes were twinkling. To think that Father has been carving a doll for me after working so hard all day! she thought. Hugging her father as hard as she could, she said, “Oh, Father, I didn’t know you knew how much I missed my doll! But how will those pieces go together?”
“You’ll see,” he said as he got up and brought some cords from a peg in back of the door. He began to make knots and fasten the pieces to the body of the doll. Soon the doll’s arms and legs were attached and they could be moved!
“It seems like magic.” Abigail chuckled as she spoke. “Now I can make dresses for her and sing to her when I am lonely, just as I did in England.”
“You surely can,” Mother said, “when your work is done. Remember, you still need to knit stockings for us. We all need new ones for the cold weather that is coming soon.”
“I thought no one knew how lonely I was and how much I missed our old home,” Abigail said, walking over to hug her mother. “I will be good and help all I can. Father shall have the first new socks; they are almost finished. Yours will be next, Mother; you work so hard for all of us.”
“Your mother and I could never forget about you, Abby. It’s good to work hard together. Someday this will be a very dear home, as dear as the one we left in England. And you will like it all the better because you helped to make it so.”

Arthur Parker walked and walked and walked. Even though he was only six years old, he sometimes helped his mother and father pull their loaded handcart. When everybody stopped to rest, he liked to explore. He wandered around to see other people, the prairie grass, a stream, or a grove of trees.
Arthur had one brother and two sisters: Max, 12; Martha Ann, 10; and Ada, 1. The Parkers had sailed from England to America that spring. Now they were traveling west with the McArthur Handcart Company. As Max helped his parents pull the handcart, Martha Ann walked behind, taking care of Arthur and Ada.
But one day Arthur’s father became ill. Martha Ann took his place helping to pull the handcart and sent Arthur to walk with a group of other children in the company. When Arthur sat down to rest beside the trail and fell asleep, the other children didn’t notice. The company moved on without him.
By the time Arthur’s family discovered that he was missing, it was too late and too dark to go looking for him. That night, the cloudy sky burst open. Thunder and lightning raged, and many tents blew over. Water ran across the ground in streams as people huddled in wet clothes. All night long, the Parkers worried about Arthur, lost out in the stormy darkness. They hoped somebody would bring him to their tent, but no one did.
The next morning, search parties went back along the trail to look for Arthur. The handcarts stayed camped all day so the searchers could continue looking. Where was the little boy? Was he hurt in the thunderstorm?
After searching for two days, the company could not wait any longer. They had more than a thousand miles left to go.
Arthur’s parents didn’t give up hope. They decided that Brother Parker would go farther back along the trail to look for Arthur, while Sister Parker and the other children would stay with the company and pull the handcart.
Before Brother Parker left, his wife pinned a bright red shawl around his shoulders. If he found Arthur dead, he would wrap him in the shawl. But if he found Arthur alive, he would wear the shawl on his shoulders or hold it in his hand to signal that Arthur was all right.
The worried father retraced the trail—calling Arthur’s name, searching everywhere he could, and praying. He walked and searched for 10 miles, determined not to leave without finding his son.
Meanwhile, the handcart company moved ahead. Two days went by. Sister Parker kept looking back anxiously, hoping to see her husband and son catching up with them.
At last, Brother Parker came to a mail-and-trading station. He asked if anyone had seen a lost six-year-old boy. Someone said that a boy had been found! He was being cared for by a farmer and his wife. Arthur’s father went to the farmhouse and found his son. How glad they were to see each other!
Arthur told his father that he had spent the first night under some trees, which protected him from the rainstorm. Then he had wandered until he came to the farmhouse. Brother Parker figured out that Arthur had walked about nine miles!
The handcart company was now 60 miles past where Arthur had disappeared. Arthur had been missing for four days, and his mother had hardly slept at all since then. She kept watching the trail behind her, looking for her husband, hoping he would be waving the red shawl.
A few days later, as the sun was setting, she suddenly spotted the red shawl waving in the distance. Arthur was alive! Captain McArthur sent a wagon back to meet the father and son. Everyone in the company rejoiced to see Arthur, but no one felt as happy as his mother. Completely exhausted, she slept soundly for the first time in days.
The Parkers continued on their journey. Arthur kept walking, singing, and exploring—but he stayed a little closer to his parents. Each night, they hugged him a little tighter.

Sister Lee Vashti, Ma On Shan Ward, Hong Kong Tolo Harbour Stake, learned a similar lesson when the young men and young women in the Hong Kong stakes and their parents gathered to assemble gift packages for elderly single residents of the city. Then they separated into small groups to clean the apartments of the elderly and to spend some time talking with those who live alone and typically have few, if any, visitors.
Lee says, “I felt slightly put off when I first realized that I was assigned to clean someone’s apartment in the unbearably hot and humid Hong Kong weather. What’s more, I was working with another ward’s youth who were almost total strangers to me. Only now do I realize that this service activity was about helping others and not about spending a morning with friends.”
As she helped clean the apartment and spent some time visiting, she gained firsthand knowledge of how important it is to give time and attention to someone who appreciates the chance to visit.
She says, “The senior’s house was well organized, and everything had its own place in the small apartment: a long bench off to the side of the wall with a small TV right across from it and a bunk bed in the corner of the room. There wasn’t much for my group to do, but we still wiped the top of the walls and the lights, and visited with our senior friend. I gained a valuable lesson about my attitude. This was not about me. This was about forgetting my wants and going to help another. Once I understood this simple concept, I realized that I had had fun—even without my friends. Not only had I given service to someone, but I also had made new friends.”

May I share with you the account of Tihi and Tararaina Mou Tham and their 10 children. The entire family, except for one daughter, joined the Church in the early 1960s, when missionaries came to their island, located about 100 miles (160 km) south of Tahiti. Soon they began to desire the blessings of an eternal family sealing in the temple.

At that time the nearest temple to the Mou Tham family was the Hamilton New Zealand Temple, more than 2,500 miles (4,000 km) to the southwest, accessible only by expensive airplane travel. The large Mou Tham family, which eked out a meager living on a small plantation, had no money for airplane fare, nor was there any opportunity for employment on their Pacific island. So Brother Mou Tham and his son Gérard made the difficult decision to travel 3,000 miles (4,800 km) to work in New Caledonia, where another son was already employed.

The three Mou Tham men labored for four years. Brother Mou Tham alone returned home only once during that time, for the marriage of a daughter.

After four years, Brother Mou Tham and his sons had saved enough money to take the family to the New Zealand Temple. All who were members went except for one daughter, who was expecting a baby. They were sealed for time and eternity, an indescribable and joyful experience.

Brother Mou Tham returned from the temple directly to New Caledonia, where he worked for two more years to pay for the passage of the one daughter who had not been at the temple with them—a married daughter and her child and husband.

In their later years Brother and Sister Mou Tham desired to serve in the temple. By that time the Papeete Tahiti Temple had been constructed and dedicated, and they served four missions there.

Dear Amanda,
We had so many interesting visitors at church last Sunday that I thought you would like to hear about them. Grandpa and I went to church in a little town called Itakyrú (ee-tahk-ee-roo). We are building a nice new meetinghouse there, but for now the members come to the home of the Ugarte (oo-gar-teh) family for church. There are two rooms in the house: a bedroom, where the whole family sleeps, and a kitchen, where Sister Ugarte cooks over an open fire. Between the two rooms is a covered area for the animals. There is a big box of corn there, and the dogs and pigs and chickens and ducks go in and out whenever they wish. The Ugarte family also has a little brown burro, a calf, and a pretty gray cat.
On Sunday, however, all the animals have to go out into the yard, and Brother Ugarte sets up benches for our meetings in the area between the two rooms. It is a very cool and pretty place to have a meeting.
Sacrament meeting last Sunday started out as usual. Then, after the announcements and opening song, we heard a strange munching noise. It was the little black calf. He had come in to listen and to eat some of his corn!
A little later, during the first talk, Grandpa leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Grandma, there is a little pig between my feet!”
“I know,” I whispered back, “and there is a little spotted dog under me.”
Just at that moment the little dog under me playfully nipped the little pig under Grandpa.
“Ooee! Ooee! Ooee!” squealed the pig, and it ran into the yard.
“Woof! Woof! Woof!” barked the dog, following the pig into the yard.
“Amen,” said the speaker as he finished his talk.
Everyone stood up to sing a rest song. The little brown burro, which had been very reverent in the yard the whole time, decided he would like to sing. Have you ever heard a burro sing? They don’t stay with the music very well, and they always forget the words!
The second half of the meeting was much quieter. The pretty gray cat fell asleep outside near the burro, and the only new visitors to church were some ducks and a mother hen that came to eat the corn that the calf had spilled on the floor.
Soon the new meetinghouse in Itakyru will be finished. Then the animals won’t be able to come to church anymore, which is really too bad, because they seemed to enjoy being there with us.
Grandpa and I are very glad that we can be missionaries in Paraguay. Maybe someday you can be a missionary too. Don’t forget to be a good girl for your mommy and daddy.
Love,
Grandma

Hong Kong China Temple
In 1991 the First Presidency asked the Asia Area Presidency to begin searching for a temple site in Hong Kong. If the Church were to build a temple in Hong Kong, it would have to be built before July 1, 1997, which was when the People’s Republic of China would resume government control.
President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) arrived in Hong Kong on July 25, 1992, to approve a site for the temple. After visiting six different locations, President Hinckley discussed his feelings with the local stake presidents and decided that none of the locations would work. At 6:45 a.m. President Hinckley called the Area Presidency and asked to meet in his hotel room at 8:00 a.m. After they arrived, President Hinckley “then shared, on a sheet of white paper, a detailed drawing. During the night, he had envisioned a building of about eight floors above ground, with the temple on the top floors and other functions housed on the lower floors. … This concept of multiple use, President Hinckley explained, would depart from tradition in that all other temples in the Church at that time were stand-alone buildings.”7
President Hinckley returned to Salt Lake City and presented the new design to the Temple Department. The architects saw an opportunity to expand the building and created a plan that would be nearly twice the size originally designed by President Hinckley. The plans were completed and sent to Hong Kong for approval, but after negotiations with the officials, the building plans were denied. Remembering the experience they had earlier with President Hinckley’s first design, the Area Presidency immediately recommended that the Church return to his drawing. This plan quickly received approval, and the Church began construction on the temple. The Hong Kong China Temple was dedicated on May 26, 1996, by President Hinckley.

While serving in the Europe Area, I was privileged to see these principles in action as a miracle unfolded in Sheffield, England. At the end of 2008, Bishop Mark Dundon of the Sheffield First Ward was pondering what he could do to help his ward grow. In leadership training, his stake president had asked the bishops, “What are you willing to sacrifice to be successful in missionary work?” From the teachings of his leaders, Bishop Dundon knew that a good ward mission leader is key, a functioning ward council is essential, and a willingness to listen to the promptings of the Spirit is crucial.
After much pondering and prayer, Bishop Dundon exercised his priesthood keys and followed the promptings of the Spirit to release his two counselors, Gregory Nettleship and Robert McEwen. Bishop Dundon then called Brother Nettleship to be the new ward mission leader and Brother McEwen to be the assistant ward mission leader. The members of the bishopric had been close, so this change was not easy for them. But Bishop Dundon knew that in this particular instance the decision was correct, and both counselors humbly accepted their new callings.
The bishop, with his new ward mission leaders and ward council, prayerfully made plans and set goals for growing the ward. As they implemented their plans, they began to see significant success. Convert baptisms increased substantially, and many people returned to activity in the Church. Little did the ward leadership know, however, that their faith and works were to be rewarded in ways they never thought possible.
In March 2011 a young missionary and his companion were contacting people in the streets of Sheffield. Elder Nicholas Pass saw a man and his wife walk by and had a strong feeling that he should talk to them. Elder Pass and his companion ran to catch up with the couple. Communication was difficult—the couple was from Slovakia and did not speak English—but an accompanying friend helped with interpretation. In the discussion on the street, the missionaries used pictures to introduce the First Vision and the message of the Restoration. The couple then accepted an appointment for the missionaries to begin teaching them.
Ludovit Kandrac, the father of the family, started to read the Book of Mormon. Soon he quit smoking. In the teaching process, the missionaries had to use multiple interpreters and even learn a little Slovak themselves. On May 14, 2011, Ludovit, one of his daughters, and two other relatives were baptized.
At his baptism, Brother Kandrac bore his testimony. Through an interpreter, he related his experience of meeting the missionaries. When he walked past Elder Pass and his companion in the Sheffield city center, he had a warm feeling in his chest. He disregarded the feeling and continued walking, but as he glanced at the missionaries again, he was moved by the love they exhibited as they spoke with people. Though he wanted to approach them, Brother Kandrac continued walking. He was startled a minute later when the missionaries approached him.
Along with another Slovak family who had joined the Church a year earlier, these baptisms marked the beginning of a modern conversion miracle among the Slovak population in Sheffield, England. These new members came to church every week, bringing other family members and friends. They opened their homes to the missionaries and invited others in their community to listen to the gospel.
Elder Pass and his new companion, Elder Joseph McKay, visited often with these families. They taught them, served them, ministered to them, and blessed them. It was a marvelous time of teaching, learning, and receiving gifts of the Spirit for investigators, converts, missionaries, stake and ward leaders, and members alike.
Throughout the summer and fall of 2011, more Slovaks joined the Church. The increasing numbers made it difficult for local members to continue to provide transportation to and from the meetinghouse. For several weeks the faithful Slovak Saints walked five miles (eight km) each way to attend Sunday services in a language they could not understand.
In September 2011 the Sheffield stake presidency was reorganized, with Bishop Dundon called as the new stake president. A month later a fireside was held for both English and Slovak Saints in which interpreters were present.
While sitting on the stand, President Dundon felt impressed that a Slovak group needed to be formed that would be attached to the Sheffield First Ward but would meet at a facility in the Slovak neighborhood. A suitable meeting place was soon found and rooms rented. On December 11, 2011, the first block of meetings was held in the new facility. Sheffield First Ward leaders optimistically hoped that 50 people would attend. Instead, 84 people—including 63 Slovaks—attended.
Following the reorganization of the Sheffield stake, Robert McEwen was called as bishop of the Sheffield First Ward. Brother Nettleship continued to serve as mission leader. Under both bishops, the ward mission leader and the ward council did a remarkable job of leading the ward to “be with and strengthen” the Slovak Saints (D&C 20:53).
The ward council addressed issues such as how to provide for the new members’ needs, how to help them fully participate in ward activities, how to nurture them in the gospel, and how to overcome language barriers. Council members fasted and prayed for divine help and then worked hard. They visited the new members and participated in teaching appointments with the full-time missionaries. They provided transportation. They ordered Church materials in Slovak. They took the newly baptized members to the temple to perform baptisms for the dead.
Ward leaders also organized a Christmas service project. Ward members donated funds and collected toys, clothes, and other gifts. Large Christmas gift bags that included food for a Christmas dinner were distributed on Christmas Eve to the Slovak Saints and other families within the ward boundaries.
Long-time members and new members understood little of each other’s spoken language, but they all felt the warmth of the language of genuine love. A remarkable feeling of joy, happiness, and excitement enveloped members and investigators.
Over the next year this little group developed into a solid Church unit, with whole families being baptized and uniting with the Church. Fathers were ordained to the Aaronic and Melchizedek Priesthoods, sons were ordained to the Aaronic Priesthood, a Primary with more than 20 children was established, and Young Men and Young Women programs were organized with more than 25 youth attending weekly. The Lord provided a full-time missionary from the Czech Republic who could speak the language and add support to the group. At the same time, these families sent referrals to their homeland.
Why did this happen? Because God has not ceased to be a God of miracles. Because faithful missionaries diligently sought those who were prepared to receive the gospel. Because the stake president and bishops acted in faith and followed the guidance of the Holy Ghost. Because a ward council took responsibility and worked in unity. Because members learned the language of love and acted upon invitations from their leaders, having faith and confidence that God meant what He said: “I am a God of miracles; and I will show unto the world that I am the same yesterday, today, and forever” (2 Nephi 27:23).
The success in Sheffield does not need to be a singular event. It reminds us of the promises given through the prophets and can ignite our faith and our desire to become instruments in the hands of God by inviting people around us to come unto Christ. If we do so, we will place ourselves in a position where the Lord can bless us with opportunities to teach, activate, and nurture others. And we will see evidences that He continues to be a God of miracles.