Gospel Story Finder

Stelio Mauahiti lived next door to an attractive building in Paea on the island of Tahiti. He was told it was a church, but he didn’t know what kind of church. The grounds were always neat, and people seemed to come nearly every day to participate in a variety of activities. On Sundays, he could hear the singing, as the doors and windows were always open. Other days, he watched boys near his own age play basketball on the outdoor court. He paid particular attention to the two young men who wore white shirts and dark trousers.
Soon he was playing basketball with them. Then he started to listen to what they had to say. He and his mother agreed to be taught the gospel. At their baptism, Stelio made up his mind to serve a mission someday.
That day has come. Elder Mauahiti was called to serve in the French Polynesia Mission. One of his first assignments was to the village of Uturoa on the island of Raiatea. Mission life is very different from his life before his mission. Now he is the young man in the white shirt and dark trousers. Now he is the one who plays basketball on the outdoor court with those who are wondering about the Church. Now he is the one who does the teaching.
Best of all, Elder Mauahiti sees the same thing happening to his people that Elder Pratt saw 150 years ago. He’s seeing people change for the better. “I have seen the difference between the homes of Church members and the homes of nonmembers,” says Elder Mauahiti. “I have seen lives changed, hearts touched by the Spirit. I know that it’s not me who makes the difference, but the Spirit of the Lord working through his missionaries.”

The first two names that appear on the fourth company of the Nauvoo Temple register for that very day, February 3, 1846, are John and Jane Akerley, who received their endowments in the Nauvoo Temple that evening. They were humble, new converts to the Church, without wealth or position. Their temple work was their final concern as they were leaving their home in Nauvoo to come west. It was fortunate that President Young granted the wish of the Saints to receive their temple blessings because John Akerley died at Winter Quarters, Nebraska. He, along with over 4,000 others, never made it to the valleys of the Rocky Mountains. William Clayton’s classic Mormon hymn “Come, Come, Ye Saints” captures well their faith: “And should we die before our journey’s through, happy day! All is well!”
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John and Jane Akerley and the others of the multitude who waited in the bitter cold to enter the majestic Nauvoo Temple received within its walls the greatest blessings offered by the Lord in this life. They endured much, but their suffering was just beginning. Their temple blessings helped strengthen them for what lay ahead. Separated by death in Winter Quarters, they were able to endure all things because of their faith and the blessings received that cold February night in 1846.

I hear Him most strongly in my life when I read the scriptures and draw close to the Lord and His promises. In my Gospel Library App, I have a whole section entitled “My Scripture Revelations.” Let me share a personal story that taught me about cleaving unto God and being sustained by His revelations and His love.

Little Paxton, our grandson, was born with a very rare chromosomal deletion, a genetic disorder that distinguished him, literally, as one in hundreds of millions. Shortly after precious Paxton was born, we knew Heavenly Father was blessing our family—my daughter and son-in-law, in particular—with a divine opportunity. As his father and I put our fingers on his tiny head in the first of many priesthood blessings, the words came into my mind from the ninth chapter of John: “That the works of God should be made manifest in him.” [30]

Paxton lived just three years, but he was, indeed, what the scriptures call “a teacher come from God.” [31] From Paxton, in his small little body, we as a family learned greater patience, humility, gratitude, and resilience. We learned to trust the Lord and His ways. Praying for Paxton was a privilege. He never walked or talked, though he did have his own mini medical wheelchair. He spent a third of his life in the hospital undergoing 34 surgeries. Yet, he embraced life. He was full of light, and his smiles and laughter connected to our very souls. From Paxton we learned to cleave unto the Lord and accept His will.

Recently I met a young medical doctor who was completing his medical training as an intern in a hospital. He told us of himself as he bore his testimony in a stake conference. He said that as a young athlete he had set his sights very high. At only thirteen years of age he had started swimming competitively, and during his teen years he spent thirty to forty hours a week training during the summer and twenty to thirty hours a week in the winter. He told us that his desire to become a champion swimmer was so great that he would have done anything to accomplish it. His grades were not what they should have been, and the coach cautioned him; whereon he applied himself and brought them to a satisfactory level. During this period of time he excluded himself from Church activity because, in his words, “Swimming would improve my self-image and give me confidence and the Church would not.”
He went on to become a national AAU champion, winner of a bronze medal in the 1968 Olympics, and an All-American in college for three years. Again in his words:
I did well in college and was able to go to medical school. I would tell myself, “You are an Olympian; you have a good mind; you will become a doctor and have ‘the good life.’” I would tell myself this as I was contemplating suicide. I was full of false and vain pride.
In medical school I dealt with an indigent population. The people were completely different from me; they frustrated me terribly. I dealt with these frustrations first by hating the people, then by pitying them. As a medical student I frequently thought of taking my own life.
A country doctor in southeastern Ohio, with whom I lived for six weeks, talked to me about my family, about returning to my religious heritage and honoring my mother and father. He asked that sometime before I left we pray together. We did, and we started reading the Bible together.
I went back to Cincinnati, feeling very sure I could understand any work of literature, and started reading the Bible by myself. I was halfway through Genesis and was learning very little when I said to myself, “There must be chapters written in a way that will be easier to understand.” I then turned to Numbers and found that I understood even less. I stopped reading and started praying.
He then went on to tell that he fell in love with a lovely young woman, and they were married. This improved the way he felt about himself and gave him time to think about a future family and how to maintain a good family life. Again in his own words: “I knew that the Church helped tremendously in keeping family ties close. I didn’t really want to have to spend the time required to be a good Latter-day Saint. I was hoping to find another church whose gospel was easier to live and didn’t ask so much.”
He further stated that as they were driving west to take up residence, they were discussing the subject of raising their children; and his wife, though not a member of the Church suggested that the children be raised in the Mormon Church. He had hoped that she would wait for a while, as he was going to start his internship and knew he would be extremely busy.
By chance they moved next door to an active Latter-day Saint family—and, I might say, they were in a non-LDS community. He then explained,
The first question they asked us was if we would like to go to church with them on Sunday. Not being able to think of a good excuse, we went. Through this experience my testimony started to grow, first by studying and praying and listening to the testimonies of our stake missionaries. But the fastest growth in my testimony came from the opportunities I had to serve other people.
About six months ago, he was ordained an elder in the Melchizedek Priesthood, and he told of an experience that happened shortly after his ordination. His elders quorum president called him at 5:30 a.m., just before he was to begin a thirty-six-hour call day at the hospital, and asked him if he would please go over to the hospital early to give a blessing to a women who was about to give birth to a child. His first reaction was, “Why me? I’ll lose an hour and a half of sleep.” But he got up and dressed. Realizing that he was not in the proper frame of mind to give a blessing, he knelt and prayed, searching for the proper spirit. Then he said that as he walked to the hospital “the sun was just coming up on a beautiful new day. When I got to the bedside I saw a beautiful mother about to give birth to a beautiful spirit. After the blessing I thanked the Lord for preparing me.”
Do you recognize the miraculous transformation that had taken place in this young man’s life? He had finally achieved a relationship with the Savior. His priorities and values had changed so as to turn his life completely around.

Fortunately there are still those who observe such principles of personal rectitude. Recently we rode a train from Osaka to Nagoya, Japan. At the station were friends to greet us, and in the excitement my wife left her purse on the train. We called the Tokyo station to report it. When the train arrived at its destination some three hours later, the railroad telephoned to say the purse was there. We were not returning via Tokyo, and more than a month passed before it was delivered to us in Salt Lake City. Everything left in the purse was there when it was returned.

One thing we always do as a family is go camping. We have camped in Colorado, Arizona, California, and Utah. Of all those states, I liked Colorado best because of Turquoise Lake.
It isn’t easy to squash seven people into a small car and ride for three straight hours. And to be honest, I wasn’t in a good mood anyway. At the time, I didn’t like camping with my family. Maybe I was going through a phase or something, but my idea of a good time was being at home, where I could use the telephone and hang out with my friends.
We all cheered when Dad announced that we had reached the camp. We couldn’t see the lake from where we were, so my brothers and sister and I started running toward it as soon as we could. Unfortunately Dad was too quick, and he called us all back to set up the tents. He explained that it was almost dark, and we needed to get the work done while we still had daylight.
After a night’s sleep, I woke up the next morning to the sound of a bird chirping merrily from the branches of a tree right above my tent. Mom was already awake getting breakfast started.
“Do you need any help?” I asked.
“Not just yet,” she said.
Just then, I heard a frog croak and a splash coming from the direction of the lake.
Mom said, “Why don’t you take a look at the lake? If you hurry, you’ll be able to see the sunrise.”
Flashing her a grateful smile, I ran toward the hill that separated us from the lake. When I reached the top, I stopped for a moment and gasped, partly because I needed air and partly because the view below me was so beautiful.
The water in the lake was a turquoise color, and so clear I could actually see the fish swimming around in it. There were mountain peaks on the other side of the lake with snow still on them.
It was so quiet without my little brothers and sister running around making noise that I sat down on the hillside and enjoyed the scene that surrounded me. The lake was completely calm when I saw a ripple in the water. Then there was another ripple, and then another. The fish were jumping all around searching for their breakfast.
It was like a play had just begun, and the lake was the stage. The curtains had opened, and the actors had started their parts. From one side I saw a deer leading her fawn to the water’s edge. Next I heard the songs of a group of birds, as they chirped while the sun crept higher and higher. I watched as they flew off together, first turning to the right and then flying to the left and out of sight.
As the sun rose from behind the mountain range, I noticed a squirrel had stopped to watch as the colors of red and yellow filled the sky. We watched together while the sunlight raced across the lake before finally overwhelming us with the warm, first light of day.
Suddenly my thoughts of the moment seemed to change. Along with the rays of warmth, I experienced a type of tingling feeling all over my body as a new understanding filled my spirit. I was no longer just watching this morning miracle, but instead I had become part of the scene in the play. I realized the same immortal being who had created all of this beauty had also created me. I was just as much a piece of his artwork as was the lake, the animals, or the sunrise. It wasn’t until that moment on Turquoise Lake that I really understood that I am a daughter of my Heavenly Father.

John’s a senior in high school, and he’s worried. He’s worried because it’s time to make some important decisions, and he doesn’t know yet what he wants to do for a living. He doesn’t know if he should go to college or trade school or get into the service, or maybe just grab the first job he can find after his mission and hang onto it. He really doesn’t know for sure what his goals in life are, but he knows he’s got to start preparing himself right now one way or the other. So he takes his dad’s advice and prays about it.
No answer.
And yet he has consulted the best career counselor who ever lived. Nobody’s a nobody. The Lord has prepared everybody to do something in an excellent way. It’s our responsibility to find out what that something is. A man’s occupation is an important part of his foreordained mission in life, and he owes it to himself to seek the Lord’s help in choosing a career.
But too often we ask the Lord to tell us what he’s already told us. Like John we expect to receive a neat typewritten answer without ever studying what’s already been given to us. When Oliver Cowdrey asked why he was unable to translate the Book of Mormon plates, the Lord told him:
“… you have supposed that I would give it unto you, when you took no thought save it was to ask me.”
“But, behold, I say unto you, that you must study it out in your mind; then you must ask me if it be right, and if it is right I will cause that your bosom shall burn within you; therefore, you shall feel that it is right.” (D&C 9:7–8.)
The Lord has already revealed a great deal about our individual missions in life. We each receive a patriarchal blessing that helps clarify our future. When we are confirmed, ordained, set apart, administered to, given a father’s blessing, or otherwise blessed by the power of the priesthood, we often receive instruction and advice that help illuminate our callings. We have received inspired counsel from parents, friends, and Church leaders from time to time, and each of us has enjoyed personal impressions through the Spirit. All these guideposts have been given to us so that through prayerful consideration we can understand God’s plan for us. Our likes, dislikes, and talents are also aids that we should use in reaching a decision. Our talents are given to us for a reason, and we are expected to use them.
Here is an exercise that may help you study out in your own mind what the Lord would have you do with your life, based on these sources of revelation. Fill out a chart according to the directions. When you reach a plan that feels good to you, pray about it. If it continues to grow and feel good during your best spiritual moments—then you will have some faithful goals and plans for your life.
The next step will be to start preparing for the future you’ve chosen. It may take some courage—courage to change your plans, to earn less money than you could expect from another field, to work hard, to disappoint some people who had different dreams for you, or even to create a whole new profession to fit your destiny. But if you know it’s right, do it.
Column 1:
Things I Love to DoList everything you really love to do. (Examples: tennis, paint, build things, music, play with kids.)
Column 2:
Things That Really CountIf you knew you had a week to live, how would you spend your time? List the things that you think are really important.
Column 3:
Things I Do WellList things you feel you do well or others tell you that you do well. (Examples: sing, smile, “way with kids.”)
Column 4:
Talents I HaveFrom your patriarchal blessing and other blessings you have received (when you were blessed as a baby, confirmed a member of the Church, etc.), list those things that might have been mentioned by way of gifts or talents. (Examples: mother, teacher, missionary, leader of people.) List any of these things you feel inside, whether or not they have been mentioned elsewhere.
Column 5:
My Missions or Callings in LifeAlso from blessings, counsel, or personal impressions, list any missions or callings you feel might be in store for you. (Examples: missionary, father, friend to needy.)
Column 6:
Warnings: Things to Watch Out ForFrom your blessing or elsewhere, list those things that you really need to be careful of. (Examples: humility, material things, pride.)
Column 7:
?Head this column any way you want, with things that might help you see your life better. (Examples: strengths, things I don’t like, unusual weaknesses.) Many times unusual weaknesses are signs of potential strength. Many great public speakers got that way by working on their speaking because they were so frightened and did so poorly when they began.
Column 8:
BrainstormJust jot down any idea that comes into your head that might fit a pattern you see in the information you have just collected. For instance, if you really love the outdoors, your family really counts, and you have a talent for writing, a brainstorming idea might be to be a park ranger and do free lance writing about wildlife, and spend time with your family.
The brainstorming session is the cutting edge of the system. It’s through carefully and spiritually pondering the alternatives arrived at in this session that you’ll evolve an inspired plan that you can take before the Lord for his approval. So be creative and prayerful in finding alternatives that fit the guidelines you jotted down on the chart. Remember that while the job itself need not provide all the opportunities you want, it should at least allow them and, hopefully, facilitate them.
For instance, if you love to write, have a strong interest in science, and have been inspired to do genealogical research, you could perhaps plan to be science editor of a newspaper in an area where there is a genealogical library. If you also like children, you might choose instead to teach science in school and do freelance writing as well as keep up your research. You might even choose to be a professional genealogical researcher, do volunteer work with retarded children, and keep writing and science as hobbies.
I once asked a man in a fireside group what he would like to do more than anything else if he could just do whatever he wanted. His face lit up, he sat on the edge of his chair, his hands came to life, and he told me that he’d just love to have a whole room full of power tools and bring all the kids in the neighborhood in to help them build birdhouses, playhouses, chicken coops, or anything in the whole world they wanted to build. He loved kids; he loved tools; he loved building things; his whole face was aglow with it. I asked him what he was studying at school; the light went out, and he told me he was studying to be a civil engineer. Why? Because his father was one, it paid good money, and so on. I knew he had the capability of being a good civil engineer, but I asked him, “Have you ever thought about teaching shop instead and spending all day working with power tools and teaching kids how to build things?” He just about fell off his chair. His mouth hung open. His eyes lit up again. It had simply never occurred to him to take stock of what he really liked to do, of what really mattered to him in choosing a career. He had never stopped to think that his wonderful love for young people might be there for that kind of a purpose. He had decided the biggest part of the rest of his life with his eyes closed.
It’s a mistake we can’t afford to make. Pray, study, ponder, choose, and pray some more. And then do it all over again if necessary. If we plan our lives and professions in harmony with the Lord’s wisdom and our own deepest and truest values, we will have a much better chance of doing what we were sent here to do.
Remember, this is just a way to learn to “study it out” and find out more about you and your life. Try; don’t be afraid to dream and ponder. The Lord will help you find that which you can be happy doing, and do it in a special way.

Often our opportunities to show our love come unexpectedly. An example of such an opportunity appeared in a newspaper article in October 1981. So impressed was I with the love and compassion related therein that I have kept the clipping in my files for over 30 years.
The article indicates that an Alaska Airlines nonstop flight from Anchorage, Alaska, to Seattle, Washington—a flight carrying 150 passengers—was diverted to a remote Alaskan town in order to transport a gravely injured child. The two-year-old boy had severed an artery in his arm when he fell on a piece of glass while playing near his home. The town was 450 miles (725 km) south of Anchorage and was certainly not on the flight path. However, medics at the scene had sent out a frantic request for help, and so the flight was diverted to pick up the child and take him to Seattle so that he could be treated in a hospital.
When the flight touched down near the remote town, medics informed the pilot that the boy was bleeding so badly he could not survive the flight to Seattle. A decision was made to fly another 200 miles (320 km) out of the way to Juneau, Alaska, the nearest city with a hospital.
After transporting the boy to Juneau, the flight headed for Seattle, now hours behind schedule. Not one passenger complained, even though most of them would miss appointments and connecting flights. In fact, as the minutes and hours ticked by, they took up a collection, raising a considerable sum for the boy and his family.
As the flight was about to land in Seattle, the passengers broke into a cheer when the pilot announced that he had received word by radio that the boy was going to be all right.7

Shortly after I began attending a ward, the counselor in the bishopric asked to visit with me after Sunday School. He said, “Sister Nyland, we’d like to call you to serve in the nursery.” I began to laugh, assuming he was kidding, and said, “Really, what would you like me to do?” He was a little taken aback by my laughter, but said, “Really, we’d like you to serve in the nursery.” I immediately sobered and said I’d be happy to do that. Now, to tell you the truth, I wasn’t happy to do that. I liked children in the abstract, but the reality of twenty-five toddlers was a bit much. I was quite comfortable teaching college students, because they were quiet, they hung on my every word (in case it showed up on an exam), and they never chased each other around the room or crawled under their desks. The best words to describe my first day the in the nursery were shell shock. I have never felt more unprepared, unskilled, and ill suited for a calling in my life.

I was smart enough to know that the nature of two-year-olds wasn’t going to change much, so if I was going to survive this calling, I was the one who would need to change. I made that call a matter of prayer night and day, and each Sunday for six weeks the nursery was, frankly, a nightmare. Then on the seventh Sunday, when I walked into the nursery, it was like a switch had been flipped. I absolutely loved it! I loved the children; I had fun playing with and teaching them; I didn’t even mind sitting on the floor. From that day until I was released, the nursery was one of the favorite callings I’d ever had. I was so grateful for that change of heart.

For example, my dad and I have gone for ice cream after every general priesthood meeting since I became a deacon. We are going again tonight. Now, ice cream isn’t absolutely necessary to enjoy priesthood meeting—but it helps. I also remember my father telling me a few weeks before I was ordained a deacon that he hoped whenever I prepared, blessed, or passed the sacrament I would always wear a white shirt and a tie. I’m sure I had heard the same advice from a Sunday School teacher or had read it in some manual, but it wasn’t until my father said it that I intended to do it. By responding to my father’s suggestion I have shown respect for the sacred ordinance of the sacrament. And that small word of advice also helped me understand that priesthood ordinances are not just work or assignments, but they are priceless privileges that I’m grateful to take part in.

And I have seen it in young fathers trying to provide for their families. In that regard I once terrifyingly saw it in myself. At one point in our married life when financial fears collided with staggering fatigue, I took a psychic blow that was as unanticipated as it was real. With the grace of God and the love of my family, I kept functioning and kept working, but even after all these years I continue to feel a deep sympathy for others more chronically or more deeply afflicted with such gloom than I was. In any case we have all taken courage from those who, in the words of the Prophet Joseph, “search[ed] … and contemplate[d] the darkest abyss” and persevered through it—not the least of whom were Abraham Lincoln, Winston Churchill, and Elder George Albert Smith, the latter being one of the most gentle and Christlike men of our dispensation, who battled recurring depression for some years before later becoming the universally beloved eighth prophet and President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

When I was pregnant with my first daughter, I enrolled in night school. I worked hard and had another child and my husband sent me to college where I earned my associates degree in animal husbandry. This made a way for me to teach at the Booker T. Washington Institute. I taught there from 1986 to 1990. I was teaching students how to raise goats, chickens, and sheep. After the war years, I was chosen to teach agricultural skills to the ex-combatants to help reintegrate them into society. It was very hard and dangerous. But I was grateful for the job.
By then my parents realized I was doing the right thing for myself and for my family. I was working and earning my own money. They could see I was doing something better for the future.

I Can Still Hobble
I went for a run. Well, let’s be honest and call it what it really is—the tumor hobble. I exercise to keep breathing right and keep my lungs clear. However, it is difficult when my tumors hurt so much. I cried, then prayed for Heavenly Father to help me. The words of a Christmas song came into my mind, and I started singing:
Be near me, Lord Jesus; I ask thee to stay
Close by me forever, and love me, I pray.2
I must have looked and sounded pretty funny, but that doesn’t matter at this point. I’m just grateful for the words to this song.
Then my cousin called to tell me about her daughter that just went through her second brain surgery. She reminded me that it’s a blessing I can still hobble! Nothing changed. My pain was still there, but I was lifted. I knew I could get through this day.
When things are pressing down on you and you think things are just too hard to bear, sing the third verse of “Away in a Manger,” and our Lord will be with you.

A young man learned this saving principle early on in our mission. Elder Simon was from Papua New Guinea. He had been serving for about six months when we arrived in Samoa. He had a gentle spirit and a smile that would melt anyone’s heart. A convert himself, he was anxious to bless others with the same peace he found in the Lord’s true gospel. Unfortunately, the challenge of learning the language was making it hard for him to accomplish this goal. Discouraged, he told me during our first interview,

“President, I’ve been praying, and I received a prompting that I need to go back to my homeland and teach the gospel to my own people, in my own language.”

After listening to Elder Simon share his feelings, I kindly instructed him to return to his apartment and pray again. This time, humbly asking the Lord to help soften his heart toward the people and culture of Samoa. A few days later, I checked in on him. Elder Simon again shared that he received revelation telling him he needed to go home and be a missionary there.

I replied, “It’s strange, Elder, as your Mission President, I haven’t received that same revelation! I invite you to return to your village and give it more time. Try to love outward rather than inward. See those you teach through the Savior’s eyes, and the language will surely come.”

A week later, Elder Simon texted me while I was in American Samoa on assignment. I quickly called him back.

“President, I think the Lord wants me to go home and serve my own people.”

Immediately, these words came out of my mouth: “Elder Simon, Simon says: STAY IN SAMOA!”

From that moment on, this incredible elder turned his will to the Lord’s. He made peace with the Lord’s path for him. The language started to come “line upon line”1 and he eventually became known in the mission as the mayor of Sili, the village where he served the longest. That Christmas, he was called to speak at our Zone Conference Devotional. Elder Simon walked up to that pulpit and gave a Samoan sermon that moved everyone to tears. His example taught us that “with God all things are possible.”2

When Elder Simon left Samoa more than a year later, he returned honorably to his home. Not at the time when he first had requested, but when the Lord knew he was ready! Perhaps the sweetest ending to this story is that Elder Simon’s experience prepared him to be the leader that the Lord needed him to be in gospel-growing Papua. When he finally decided to “go and do”1 willingly, he developed skills that were desperately needed in his homeland. Like the younger version of myself, Elder Simon learned to trust in the Lord and be what He needed Him to be. We received a tender message from him soon after his return home.

“I love and miss you, President and Sister Ho Ching. I received my new church calling. I became the first counselor in the Mount. Hagen Branch. My missionary work is not done yet. Still, I’m trying my best to find some souls and build the Lord’s Kingdom. God bless you all!”

The concept of being filled with light and truth became particularly important to me because of an experience I had many years ago. I attended a meeting where members of the Young Women general board taught about creating spiritually strong families and homes. To visually demonstrate this, a Young Women leader held up two soda cans. In one hand she held a can that was empty and in the other hand a can that was unopened and full of soda. First, she squeezed the empty can; it began to bend and then collapsed under the pressure. Next, with her other hand, she squeezed the unopened can. It held firm. It didn’t bend or collapse like the empty can—because it was filled.
We likened this demonstration to our individual lives and to our homes and families. When filled with the Spirit and with gospel truth, we have the power to withstand the outside forces of the world that surround and push against us. However, if we are not filled spiritually, we don’t have the inner strength to resist the outside pressures and can collapse when forces push against us.

Three years later I went to Rome, Italy, to visit my uncle. He kept telling me about this church he went to. One Sunday, he took me with him. I will always remember walking toward the church’s doors for the first time and feeling the love of Heavenly Father when I went in. It felt like home.
I started going to church every single Sunday and to every activity during the week. I loved being with the youth of the Church. They made me happier. They thought and believed in the same things that I did. Then, after three months, my summer holiday finished and I had to go back to Albania.
When I returned home, I told my dad about the feelings I’d had and how happy I’d felt during those three months going to Church activities. He didn’t like it. He told me he wouldn’t allow me to continue to go to church. So I would have to be patient for the next three years until I turned 18 years old. Then I could decide for myself and be baptized.
During this time I was blessed with so many people who would tell me about what they learned each Sunday at church. One of those people was Stephanie. She’d been living in Italy when my uncle joined the Church, but she had returned to her home in the United States. My uncle thought it would be good for us to write to each other, so I added her as a friend on Facebook.
Even though we’d never met in person, I will always be grateful to her for helping me build my faith and learn more about the gospel of Jesus Christ. She wrote to me almost every Sunday and told me everything she learned in church and then would answer my questions. She was a great friend to me.
Finally, after years of being patient, I was baptized just two days after my 18th birthday. And soon I will share with my mother the happiness I felt that day, because I will be baptized for her. I know she will be proud of the life I have chosen.
I feel blessed by Heavenly Father because He was with me during my entire journey in so many ways. I just had to wait and be patient because He had a plan for me. He’s the one who gave me strength to go through all the challenges I faced. He was always there, helping me be happier.

Many Ivory Coast pioneers exemplify a total change of life. Perhaps no story is more typical of such change than that of Mammadou Zadi, a retired border guard.
Before Brother Zadi joined the Church, he was in poor health because of liver problems related to alcohol abuse; nevertheless, he decided to open a bar with his savings. He purchased a good location and was soon enjoying a brisk business. He little realized then how his life would change after his wife, Josephine, met the full-time missionaries. Josephine was impressed with their message, but in Ivory Coast’s culture she needed her husband’s permission to take the missionary discussions. He granted approval but told her he wanted nothing to do with the Church. The life he had chosen to live, he realized, was incompatible with gospel teachings.
Josephine, however, wanted to share her growing gospel knowledge with her husband. It was her fervent prayers, Brother Zadi insists, that brought the influence of the Holy Ghost into his life and prompted him to listen to the missionaries. He, too, was quickly impressed—so much so that he began living the Word of Wisdom. After his health dramatically improved, he became convinced of the truthfulness of the gospel.
With the Zadis’ baptism, membership grew not just by two but, within a short time, by all 18 members of the couple’s immediate family. The Zadi family spread the gospel to many extended family members as well, and now a son and a nephew, as full-time missionaries, are spreading the message of the Restoration to more Ivorians.
Because the gospel became foremost in their lives, Brother Zadi closed his bar and donated the building to be used for Church meetings. Brother Zadi supports his family off a pension and income from rental properties. He and Sister Zadi have donated many hours of service to the Church as well. Brother Zadi has served as a district president, and Sister Zadi as president of the Dokui Branch Relief Society.

While growing up in the '80s, I was fascinated with Wonder Woman. I would watch her show and then go to my backyard to practice a variety of stunts and maneuvers I might be called upon to use in a precarious situation. I can't begin to tell you how empowered I felt when I wore my Wonder Woman shirt. I just felt like I could do so much good! My eight-year-old brain started to think, "If I can accomplish this much good while wearing my Wonder Woman T-shirt, how much good could I accomplish if Heavenly Father would allow me to be Wonder Woman?" So I began to pray, very fervently, numerous times a day, that Heavenly Father would allow me to be Wonder Woman; and while I was praying, I would promise Heavenly Father that I would "only use my powers for good!" After weeks and months of praying and no obvious transformation, I started to have some heart-to-heart talks with my mom about how prayers are answered. During one of our last conversations, my mom said, "Maybe Heavenly Father doesn't need you to be Wonder Woman; maybe he just needs you to be Kynda." How disappointing! I'm just going to be myself? That's no good! But this answer pacified me, and I moved out of the superhero developmental phase and on to another one.
A few years ago I was telling a friend about my Wonder Woman experience, and she told another friend, and the two of them purchased a Wonder Woman keychain for me. When they were presenting me with the keychain, my friend said, "We think you are Wonder Woman!" At that moment, I felt an electrical zing move from the top of my head down to my feet, and I felt this impression on my heart and mind: "You got to be her. You got to be Wonder Woman." My immediate reaction to this impression was, "No, I haven't! I haven't saved anyone from a burning building or stopped a speeding train!" But as I continued to process the impression I received, I began to realize what heroes really do: they help people.

Three days after Elder Harold B. Lee arrived in the mission field, he met a sister missionary, Sister Fern Tanner.
Mission companion: Elder Lee, this is Sister Tanner. Wish her happy birthday!
Harold: Pleased to meet you, Sister Tanner. And happy birthday to you!
Later, when he was released from his mission, he had an operation in Salt Lake City. Instead of making an uncomfortable trip back to Idaho, he stayed with Sister Tanner and her family to recover.
Fern: Can I bring you anything else, Harold? I hope you’re feeling all right.
Harold: Thank you, Fern. I’m feeling much better.
Sister Fern Tanner and Elder Harold B. Lee were married in the Salt Lake Temple on November 14, 1923. It was Fern’s birthday—exactly three years from the day they met.
They raised two daughters, Helen and Maurine.
Maurine: Daddy, play one of your marches on the piano! Helen and I want to dance!
Harold: But I want to hear you two practice your beautiful music. Helen, where is your violin? Maurine, sit here at the piano. How I love to hear my daughters play!
After thirty-nine years of marriage, Fern became ill and passed away.
Helen: Daddy, what were you whispering to Mother?
Harold: She always told me that I must speak at her funeral. I knew I could never do that, so I was reminding her now of all the precious truths she liked to hear.
A year later, he told his family he had decided to marry Freda Joan Jensen.
Harold: I love Joan. She comforts me, and she was admired by your mother. I want Joan to become a part of our family.
Helen: We’re glad. Mother never wanted you to be alone for long.
When Maurine passed away two years later, he was comforted by the words in Hebrews 5:8–9 about Jesus Christ. He knew that his sad experiences were teaching him to be more like the Savior.
Harold: “Though he were a Son, yet learned he obedience by the things which he suffered; And being made perfect, he became the author of eternal salvation unto all them that obey him.”
When he became the prophet, President Lee realized that the Lord had used trials to prepare him for this mighty calling.

Several years ago I attended a regional conference of combined BYU stakes. President Faust was one of the speakers. His wife, Ruth, was accompanying him, so he brought her to the pulpit by his side as he began. He told how she was the love of his life and how he had to work at winning her over. Then he said, “Our first kiss was at the marriage altar – but we’ve been making up for it ever since.” I got several great messages from that little scenario. One of them was that President Faust knew his audience. He piqued everyone’s interest by talking about a subject that is never far from college students’ minds.