Gospel Story Finder

A few months ago, she came to me in a dream for the first time since she left this earthly life. I was in Hawai’i but a mirrored reality. I was here but not here. I was entering the temple. It was so busy and full of energy, much more than normal. I walked over to a woman with a clipboard who looked in charge to tell her that I would be back later to pick up my friend. As I crossed to her, my niece came walking to her from within the temple with a clipboard in her hand. My breath was taken away.

I couldn’t believe I was seeing her. It was so real. I was frozen in my spot, hoping she would turn and see me looking at her so I could make sure this was real. She looked up at me. Our eyes met. She gave me a warm smile and turned to go about her work; she was busy. I wished she could run to me and tell me how much she loves me and misses me. But she didn’t need to because I already knew that. I awoke in tears. At that moment, I knew that life continues in the spirit world. It is busy and full of purpose. It is happy and exciting. The Lord gave me a glimpse, and I put it in my testimony box.

Tears fell as I prayed for peace when my youngest son filled out his missionary application. I really wanted him to go on a mission. I did. I kept trying to convince myself of this.
I love my Savior and was genuinely thrilled for my son’s opportunity to share the joy we can find through Jesus Christ. Yet deep down I was afraid of him leaving. I knew that he would never truly come home again after his mission. Even if he lived at home, it wouldn’t be the same.
My friends told me the empty-nester stage was wonderful. My husband and I were excited and looking forward to the freedom and opportunities we hadn’t had while we were raising our children.
With this newfound freedom, I threw myself into a myriad of activities. I traveled with my husband, learned to play the organ for my calling, played with my grandchildren, and did temple and family history work.
I found excitement and adventure. I found self-improvement. I found wonderful things.
Yet there was always something missing. Something still wasn’t there. When my son left, he took a big chunk of my heart that I couldn’t seem to fill.
About a year after my son left, I had a temper tantrum to compete with all the temper tantrums my children threw when they were young. My husband looked at me and said, “Michelle, you need to serve.” I signed up for a service opportunity.
Still, my heart ached. I had a hard time throwing myself into service or any of the other ventures that beckoned. With all my children gone, I felt like my life would never be quite whole again.
One night when I prayed for help, the Spirit informed me that I was experiencing the void that comes from loss—loss of purpose. I thought I had dealt with that particular sadness by filling my life with all those wonderful activities.
As I sought for answers, I found this statement from the Prophet Joseph Smith’s history: “When we lose [something or someone] upon whom we have set our hearts it should be a caution unto us. … Our affections should be placed upon God and his work more intensely than upon our fellow beings.”1
A jolt of light pierced the dark cloud over my heart. I had tried to fill my deep cavity of sorrow with things, activities, and experiences—serving, loving, pursuing talents. All good things, but they didn’t fill my gaping hole. They didn’t heal the way I needed healing.
I realized that type of peace and fulfillment can only come through our Savior, Jesus Christ. Jesus taught, “I am the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6). It is only through Him that we find joy and wholeness and peace and contentment. Psalm 16:11 says, “Thou wilt shew me the path of life: in thy presence is fulness of joy.”
Life didn’t instantly change. My heart didn’t instantly heal. But I knew where my focus had to be for it to happen.
My prayers shifted. I started asking Heavenly Father to help me build a stronger relationship with my Savior. When I would get discouraged, I would consciously remind myself that Jesus Christ was there for me, and through the grace of His atoning power, He would help me. My scripture study became more focused on building a relationship with Him. It took time, but I persisted in directing my emotions, my energy, and my thoughts toward Jesus Christ.
As I did, the heavy darkness began to lift. I found greater enjoyment in the little acts of service and love each day. Light and hope brightened my path and filled the void in my heart. Putting the Savior first gave deeper meaning and enjoyment to every aspect of my life, from serving to spending time with family, from traveling to developing my talents. Everything became richer with Christ at the center.
Everyone’s journey through the changing times in life is unique. However, the solution to our sorrows is to respond to Christ’s call when He says, “Come unto me with full purpose of heart, and I shall heal [you]” (3 Nephi 18:32). It is only through Him that we will find true healing, peace, love, and joy.

Donovan aimed his slingshot at the empty soup can on the stump.
He stretched back the slingshot’s rubber tubing.
“What are you doing?” his little sister, Dana, asked.
“Watch this!” he said.
Thwack!
The rubber snapped back into place as Donovan let go, sending the small rock flying. Some leaves in a nearby tree rustled. But the tin can didn’t move. Donovan stuffed the slingshot into his back pocket. He had missed. Again!
Dana tilted her head to the side. “What am I supposed to see?”
“Nothing,” Donovan said. “Come on. Let’s go home.” They started heading back to the house.
Donovan kicked a stick out of his way. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to use Dad’s slingshot right. And he loved that thing! He always liked using it when Dad was out of town working, like now. It helped him feel close to Dad when he couldn’t see him.
He pulled the slingshot from his pocket and spun it slowly in his hand. The rough bark had become smooth a long time ago. Dad had made the slingshot out of a strong tree branch and used it for years before giving it to Donovan.
Dad had pointed at the soup can that day. “When you focus, amazing things can happen.” Donovan still remembered what happened next. Dad had aimed the slingshot and hit the soup can. In one try! He made it look easy. Donovan really missed him.
He was still thinking about Dad when he fell asleep that night.
The next morning, Donovan carried his slingshot to his favorite patch of trees to try again.
“Focus …” Donovan said as he stared at the can on the stump. He placed another small stone in the slingshot and pulled back.
Dad keeps trying, even when things don’t always work out, Donovan thought.
Donovan tried to stop thinking about all the times he had missed before. He closed one eye, the way Dad taught him. He really focused. Donovan didn’t look at anything else but the red soup can.
Taking a deep breath, he let go.
Thwack!
CLUNK!
Donovan blinked in surprise as the can sailed off the stump. “I did it!” he said. “Yes!”
Later that night, Donovan sat next to Mom after dinner. He held up the slingshot.
“I finally hit the can today,” he said, grinning.
“Well done!” Mom said.
“You know, I think this slingshot is my favorite thing in the whole world,” Donovan said.
“Oh?” Mom asked.
“Yup. Because it helps me think about Dad and feel close to him.”
Mom smiled. “I think he’ll be happy to know you feel that way. And guess what? Dad will be home in only three days. You can show him your new skills.”
Donovan could hardly wait! “That gives me an idea,” he said.
He ran to find Dana. He could teach her to use the slingshot the same way Dad had taught him!
“Hey, Dana,” he said. “Wanna learn how to use the best slingshot in Jamaica?”

Illustration by Katelyn Budge
I had a lot of kids at my school who acted like fake friends. In the hallways, they’d be like, “What’s up, buddy?” And then they would laugh and whisper about me. Other people made fun of how I looked. It was really stressful and made me feel self-conscious.
I used to not pray very often. But especially when I started getting teased at school, I started praying more. At the beginning, I was unsure of what to say. But over time, I’ve felt comfortable talking to Heavenly Father because I’ve built a relationship with Him.
Now if there’s something going on at school, I’ll just say a prayer in my mind. I know that Jesus Christ is with me, and He’s the best Friend I can have. Praying and remembering Christ have helped me realize that the things other people say don’t matter. What matters is what Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ think of me.
Joshua G., age 14, Michigan, USA
Enjoys playing the violin.

My brother, sister, and I moved to a safer place, and for a short while we were all right, but the rebels eventually hit that town too. This time we didn’t have time to run away. My brother was taken and later killed. My sister and I were lined up outside with all the other women. The rebel soldiers were chopping off limbs of all the women in the line. We were all so frightened. Everyone was crying and praying—even people who had never believed in God before. I was not a member of the Church at the time, but I believed in God and prayed that His will would be done and hoped that He would find a way to save me.
My dear sister, who was several places ahead of me in line, had both of her legs cut off. But as the rebels reached the woman in front of me, our army came rushing in, and the rebels ran away. I know that I was not better than the people who were in front of me or behind me, but I thanked God that I had been spared and prayed that I might understand His plan for me.

I know those things by the only way any of us can know them. The Holy Ghost has spoken to my mind and heart that they are true—not just once but often. I have needed that continuing comfort. We all experience tragedy during which we need the reassurance of the Spirit. I felt it one day as I stood with my father in a hospital. We watched my mother take a few shallow breaths—and then no more. As we looked on her face, she was smiling as the pain left. After a few silent moments, my father spoke first. He said, “A little girl has gone home.”
He said it softly. He seemed to be at peace. He was reporting something he knew was true. He quietly began to gather Mother’s personal things. He went out into the hospital hallway to thank each of the nurses and doctors who had ministered to her for days.
My father had the companionship of the Holy Ghost at that moment to feel, to know, and to do what he did that day. He had received the promise, as many have: “That they may have his Spirit to be with them” (D&C 20:79).

I started to get the New Era as a gift from a dear friend, and I think it is great. My friend Becky started to visit me while I was in prison. She asked me if I would like to talk to the elders, and I agreed. I saw them for six months, and it really helped. I’m going to keep on subscribing to the New Era now because it is still helping me. Thanks to Elder Castleberry and Elder Muller, and a real big thanks to Becky Hartswick for two wonderful gifts, the Church and the New Era.
Jeffrey D. AumanLewistown, Pennsylvania

The Book of Mormon brought me a great desire to be accepted of the Lord. One night, my newborn daughter awakened me. I fed her, and she soon fell asleep, but I was left awake in the stillness of the night. I thought of the changes in my life and the many things that still needed to be changed. My thoughts were drawn to God, and I prayed, remembering the words of the Lamanite king who cried, “O God, … wilt thou make thyself known unto me, and I will give away all my sins to know thee.” (Alma 22:18.)
One by one, the Lord showed me my weaknesses. In the early hours of the morning, I received a sweet assurance, which I recorded in my journal and have pondered many times: “I am your Father. Your Father!”

Sometimes, when we fake our efforts, we tend to have a negative effect on the project at hand. I often think of the story of two missionaries on a bicycle built for two. They were going up a steep hill. It was a difficult climb, and at the top the two stopped to rest.
The young missionary up front, dripping with perspiration, remarked, “Boy, that was a steep hill. I didn’t think we’d make it.”
The other companion, with total composure, looked down the steep grade and said, “I’m sure we’d have gone backwards if I hadn’t had the brake on all the way up.”

Five-year-old Wesley Larsen of Layton, Utah, lies in a hospital bed recovering from multiple injuries to his leg. He is surrounded by balloons, get well greeting cards, and large toy animals. But the thing he keeps closest to him is a small, homemade, brown teddy bear. The bear was given to him by the paramedics. What Wesley does not know is the bear is a gift from the young women of the West Point Utah Stake.
Wesley tells about the paramedics who took him by ambulance to the hospital and gave him the small bear because he was “brave.” During the weeks he spent in traction to repair his leg, the bear was never far from his side.
The comforting bear was the result of a project organized by Micki Adams, West Point Stake Young Women president, and Annice Nixon, her second counselor. After reading in a newspaper of a similar project in another community, they talked with Captain K. D. Simpson of their local sheriff’s department with the idea of placing teddy bears with the sheriff’s paramedic and patrol units.
The bears would be helpful, Captain Simpson told them, because children are involved in approximately 45 percent of all the calls for services by his department.
Knowing how anxious children are when confronting a policeman or a paramedic, the young women of the stake decided, “to give the children something to focus on beside their pain,” Sister Adams said. “We wanted to give them something to hold on to and to love.”
Consequently, at a stake Young Women meeting, work began on cutting out, sewing, stuffing, and hand finishing more than 200 bears.
Lori Ellsworth, a Beehive said, “The first bear I did was hard to make until I got used to doing it. But it was worth it because it might help someone forget their pain.”
Ninety bears were actually completed that evening. The girls took home the unfinished bears to complete in their own time.
The bears are twenty centimeters tall and made from scraps of fabric donated by some stake members. Other members donated the stuffing for the bears.
The sheriff’s department received 100 of the teddy bears. Another 100 were donated to the local hospital where they were hung on a Christmas tree so young patients could choose one for themselves.
When the paramedics or sheriffs respond to a call involving anyone under the age of ten years, they give the child a teddy bear. That’s become department policy.
Captain Simpson said, “It took two or three times for the paramedics to hand out the bears before they realized how effective they were in calming the children. Now the paramedics and sheriffs rely on the bears whenever they work with children.”
However, young children have not been the only recipients. The paramedics gave a bear to an 80-year-old woman who suffered a stroke. “It was the only thing that calmed her down,” said Captain Simpson. “She wouldn’t let go of the bear.”
Captain Simpson, who is also a flight paramedic, knows from his own experience how effective the bears can be with children. Twelve-year-old Nicole Wallace had to be flown by helicopter from one hospital to another. She was bleeding internally from a lacerated kidney and liver suffered in an automobile accident. She refused to let go of her bear at any time during the transfer from hospital to helicopter to hospital. She finally gave up the bear just before undergoing surgery.
Speaking about the accident, Nicole says, “The car was badly smashed, and the paramedics had to take out the back seat before they could lift me out of the rear window. When they put me in the ambulance, they gave me this cute little bear,” Nicole said. “It kept me from getting scared. I would hold on to it, so I wouldn’t hurt so bad. In the hospital it stayed right by me in my bed.”
Jennifer Techmeyer, a Beehive, said, “I thought it was a really a good thing to do to make something to put in the ambulance for the children. But what was really special was being able to donate our love to them.”

When I was a youth of 18 years, our branch undertook the project of remodeling and enlarging a building which the Church had acquired to serve as a meetinghouse. At that same time, construction of the basketball court was begun, which of course was outdoors, as are all of the basketball courts in Argentina.
The members all helped with the work, thus making it possible to complete the projects. One of my jobs was to operate the cement mixer. I had to constantly add cement, sand, lime, and, of course, water. Having never done this type of work before, I knew very little about it. One day I was working along with a group of fine members preparing the cement base for the basketball court, a job which of necessity had to be completed that same day. Because of my lack of experience and due to the friction caused when cement, sand, lime, and water are mixed together, my hands became blistered by the end of the working day, and I had to wear bandages around my fingers for many days. Today I wear several scars on my hands which remind me of those happy days, of working together in a beautiful spirit of service.
I don’t recall the small incidents of the day, nor do I remember the names of all the people with whom I worked, but the scars are a constant reminder of the beautiful spirit of service, the love of the Lord’s work, and the deep feeling of brotherhood which we enjoyed on that occasion.

Arthur took the Scout oath seriously. “On my honor I will do my best” was for him an inviolable law. He never did anything halfheartedly. In school he was at the top of his class. He taught himself shorthand in his spare time as a self-improvement project and became skilled enough to take dictation at well over 100 words per minute. This later led to a job as personal secretary to a member of parliament. He was an enthusiastic athlete, always giving the best that was in him to each sport. As a teenager he ran a three-mile race in which he was required to start last because he was considered the fastest. Some of the competitors were given a full minute head start. Arthur ran with all the strength he had and a little more, catching the leader just 100 yards from the finish line and edging ahead to win. Years later, at the age of 48, he ran in a cross-city, five-mile race in Salt Lake City. He finished second in a field of 32 runners. He won medals in both England and the United States for his skill in soccer. In this rough and tumble sport he had to use “brains instead of brawn” as he puts it, since at five-foot-two he couldn’t run over the top of many opponents. He played his last soccer game at the age of 60. He is also a qualified member of the U. S. Soccer Referee’s Association. Cricket is another favorite sport. He once played against the Australian test team in a match in San Francisco.
Thanks to his experiences in the First Colchester Troop, Scouting soon became an indispensable part of Arthur’s life. When his work took him to Berkhamsted, England, he was made assistant Scoutmaster of the local troop and organized a fife and drum corps.
At the age of 23, Arthur emigrated to America, arriving in Chicago on July 4, 1915. The very next day he was made Scoutmaster of the Logan Square Branch Troop. There were six LDS and 18 nonmember boys in the troop, and under Sadler’s guidance they won the championship flag of the Chicago area. Sadler later served as Scoutmaster of seven other troops in several states.
He has to laugh a little when he recalls one of his camping experiences as Scoutmaster of the Spring Lake (Utah) Troop. “We enjoyed a very nice overnight camp by the shores of Utah Lake. Our transportation on that occasion was a wagon and two horses provided by a local farmer. Not being a farmer myself, I left the details to the assistant Scoutmaster. The result was fine for the Scouts, but not so good for the horses—we forgot to provide any hay for them!”
In recent years Sadler has been able to influence large numbers of boys through invitations to speak to Scout troops, firesides, Scout leader groups, and other gatherings. Last February he spoke at seven different wards. He has also been invited to participate in various jamborees, leadership training programs, and summer camps.
At summer camp, as Sadler moves from camp to camp, offering encouragement and advice, it’s obvious that he is at home, doing what he loves to do best. He sits with the young men at their campfires each night and talks with them much as Baden-Powell talked with him and his companions at Walton-on-Naze. And like Baden-Powell, when the usual songs and ghost stories and adventure stories are all finished, he talks to them about honor. He eats each meal with a different patrol, and no matter how disastrous the cooking, he makes the Scouts feel that he has been honored to share it with them. And he really has.
It is no mystery why Sadler has given so much of himself during his 65 years as a Scout. He loves Scouting because he loves boys. His faith in them is absolute. He accepts wholeheartedly, and often quotes, the statement of Baden-Powell: “If you will give a boy a task to perform, within the range of his capabilities, and place him on his word of honor, you can rely confidently upon his accomplishing the task assigned to him.”
To Scouts he says, “Don’t just acquire a merit badge or skill award—earn it! If you’re swimming the mile, swim the mile; don’t cheat yourself by resting your feet on the bottom for a minute if you get tired.” He tells of a time when he was able to save two friends from drowning because of leaders who had insisted he really fulfill the swimming requirements.
Needless to say, Brother Sadler’s sons and grandsons have all been active Scouts. His son is a Scout leader in Las Vegas, Nevada; three of his grandsons are Eagle Scouts; and he has four great-grandsons just starting out in Cub Scouting.
He has received many honors, including the Silver Beaver award, but the honor he treasures most is the honor of working with Scouts. He has always set a good example for them, in the Church as well as in Scouting. He has held Church positions in all the areas where he has lived, and he served a full-time mission to his native England where he served as branch president of his home branch of Colchester.
It’s been a long time since Arthur Sadler paid fourpence for the first installment of Baden-Powell’s handbook, but his enthusiasm has never cooled. In him young people in and out of the Church will always have a friend.
He sums it all up when he says, “So long as I live I shall have in my heart a great love for boyhood and a sincere gratitude to young people for the happiness and joy my continued active association with them has afforded me through nearly three quarters of a century. May God bless them one and all.”

Those of us who are a little more mature can have a tremendous influence on the younger generations. When my mother was just a little girl, neither of her parents was active in the Church. Even at the young age of five, she would walk by herself to church and attend her meetings—Primary, Sunday School, and sacrament meeting—all at different times.
I recently asked my mother why in the world she did that week after week when she had no support or encouragement at home. Her answer was: “I had Primary teachers who loved me.” These teachers cared about her and taught her the gospel. They taught her that she had a Father in Heaven, who loved her, and it was their concern for her that kept her coming week after week. My mother said to me, “That was one of the most important influences in my early life.” I hope I can thank those wonderful sisters someday! There is no age barrier when it comes to Christlike service.

For as long as I can remember, Mom has talked about Aunt Vera. Aunt Vera is Mom’s youngest sister, and according to Mom, she loves to sing and dance. “Vera was always happy, and she made everyone around her happy.”
When Mom married Dad and left the Philippines, the hardest part was leaving her family—especially Aunt Vera—behind. But pretty soon my brother, Todd, and I were born, and Mom was really busy. She and Aunt Vera wrote letters back and forth, and two or three times a year they called each other on the telephone, but Mom still missed her.
When Aunt Vera wrote to say that she was coming to spend three weeks at Christmastime with us, Mom was ecstatic. We cleaned the house and put up decorations, and Mom told us about when she and Aunt Vera were little girls and decorated their home. They had always saved the Nativity scene for last. As they put each figure in place, they tried to imagine being there with the shepherds when the angel told them about the Baby Jesus, and with the Wise Men as they followed the star.
Aunt Vera was all smiles and laughter when she arrived, just as Mom said she’d be. She and Mom spent hours looking through picture albums and talking about old friends and family. But by the second week, Aunt Vera started to seem unhappy. A few days before Christmas, I came into the living room and found her staring out the window. She looked like she’d been crying, and I wasn’t sure what to do. “Aunt Vera, what’s wrong?” I asked.
Aunt Vera blew her nose and shook her head. “There’s really nothing wrong,” she said. “It’s just so different here. I’m afraid I’m a little homesick.”
“Oh,” I said. “I guess our weather doesn’t help much, does it?”
“No. It doesn’t get so cold at home, and it never snows. The snow is beautiful, but it’s so cold! I don’t think that I’ll ever be warm again. Mostly I miss Mother and Father … and Christmas.”
“Christmas? We have Christmas here!”
“Yes, but it isn’t the same,” Aunt Vera said with a smile. “You see, where I live in the Philippines, Christmas is a very big celebration. We start on December sixteenth by setting off firecrackers and other fireworks very early in the morning. And we keep celebrating until January sixth. Almost every night there are fireworks and parties. Decorations are everywhere, especially colored lights. And plays that tell Bible stories are performed in one village after another. All the children make beautiful paper lanterns of different shapes and colors, then put candles inside them and have a parade at night. It is beautiful!
“And everywhere are the Christmas stars. They’re lanterns made in the shape of a star. Every house has one hanging over a Nativity scene. On Christmas Eve, we have a “Parade of the Stars,” in which all the villages compete for prizes. Some of the Christmas stars are so big that they ride on the back of decorated pickup trucks or are carried by several people. Our family never misses the parade.”
Aunt Vera paused, a faraway look in her eyes. Then she looked at me. “It isn’t that there is anything wrong with your Christmas,” she said with a sigh. “It’s just that I have never been so far from home, and I didn’t expect things to be quite so different.”
I looked at the star we had hanging over the manger scene. I hadn’t known it was so special. I leaned over and hugged Aunt Vera. “I’m sorry you’re homesick,” I said, “but I’m glad you’re here.”
Aunt Vera laughed and hugged me back.
After that, Aunt Vera seemed to feel better, but I couldn’t help thinking about Christmas in the Philippines. It certainly did seem more festive. I told Todd what Aunt Vera had said and asked if he had any ideas on how to make her feel more at home. He said he’d think about it. Two days later he had a great idea! The very next day, Christmas Eve, we set about making it work.
Right after breakfast, we dressed to go out—boots, snow pants, sweaters, coats, gloves, scarves, and hats. Luckily it had snowed the night before, so there was a lot of snow. Better yet, it was the wet, heavy kind that’s good for building.
We worked by the side of the house where there were no windows. First we each rolled the biggest snowball we could. Todd had to roll his over next to mine because mine got so big that I couldn’t push it. Then we used the plastic buckets from the sandbox to make snow bricks, which we attached to the tops and sides of the snowballs. Then we used our sandbox shovels to smooth the sides and carve details. When we were finished, we had two large snow stars. They looked great, but something still wasn’t right.
“They’re supposed to have lights inside,” I said.
“No problem,” Todd replied. “We’ll just hollow out the center of each one and put in a flashlight.”
And that’s what we did. After lunch we went back out and made three smaller stars. By dinnertime I was drooping, but everything was ready.
After dinner we told Mom, Dad, and Aunt Vera to get their coats and boots on because we had a surprise for them. While they got ready, Todd ran out and turned on the flashlights. We’d borrowed some from the neighbors to have enough. By the time we all went outside, it was snowing again. As we turned the corner of the house, the adults stopped short.
“Oh my!” Mom exclaimed. “It’s gorgeous!”
It was beautiful! With the flashlights reflecting off the insides of the stars, and the snow sparkling from the lights in the houses against the dark night, our sculptures looked better than I had even imagined they would.
“It’s for Aunt Vera,” Todd said.
“For me!” Aunt Vera sounded surprised.
“Yes, you said one of the things you missed about being home was seeing the ‘Parade of Stars,’” I said. “So we made you a little one. Do you like it?”
“All this for me?” she asked again. “Oh, I love it! I’ll never forget it. These are the most beautiful Christmas stars I’ve ever seen!”
Aunt Vera hugged Todd and me for the longest time, and so did Mom and Dad. And for a long time we stood and watched the snow fall on our Christmas stars. Then together we went inside and read in the book of Luke the story of the Savior’s birth—the most beautiful part of Christmas in both our countries.

One winter day a few years ago, I was getting out of the SUV I drive to accommodate my six children. Now, SUVs are large and there was a decent first step from the car door to the frosty ground below. I slid across the seat, shifting all of my weight onto the supporting leg. Oblivious to the glossy sheen below me, my foot made contact with the icy surface, and the ground began to move. I tried digging in with my heels in an effort to unearth enough traction to prevent a stumbling fall on the polished city street, but before I knew it, I was treating the spectators around me with a delightful rendition of the crazy leg dance; you know the one, where you dramatically shuffle in place and swing your arms with an odd expression of anxiety on your face. You look absolutely ridiculous until gravity prevails, control is lost, and you find yourself on the ground, void of any remaining dignity. Now while this was happening, I was laughing uncontrollably, which made it even harder to maintain my balance or plan for a graceful landing. In addition, to provide the perfect climactic ending, I had stopped by Jamba Juice on the way to work to pick up a smoothie, and well, you can see where this is going. As my weight veered back, my arms were thrown forward instinctively which released the full force of the smoothie into the air. As I landed face up I could see my Orange Sunrise smoothie, filled with fruit and cream and topped off with an immunity boost, orbiting through the sky above me. As quickly as it happened the performance was over and I lay in the parking lot covered in my breakfast and laughing to myself thinking, boy I wish one of those people watching me had a video camera.

Sometimes, brother and sisters, we just need to laugh. Although I was a little sore the next day from the landing, I often think about that slippery fall, and I can’t help but giggle and smile, especially when I consider how ridiculous I looked. We are meant to have joy on this earth, though I don’t think a literal fall is what we must experience when we read in the scriptures, “Adam fell that men might be and men are that they might have joy.”[3]

Before I celebrated my sixteenth birthday, I had lived in fourteen different homes! My father was a homebuilder, and every home he built was for sale—including the ones we lived in. Because we moved so often, we did not collect a lot of possessions. Every home I lived in was full of the spirit of love, friendship, humor, fun, and laughter. These priceless things always moved with us. The things we didn’t take with us were given to Deseret Industries.
A few things, however, were never discarded, including books, scriptures, family histories and photos, and music. Those material items were handled with care every time we moved, and I learned to value deeply what they stood for. My father and mother carefully wrapped and boxed these items, and I sensed even as a very young child that they were extremely important. As I grew older, this sense developed into a great love for the scriptures and also for family history and for our ancestors who sacrificed so much for us.
These moving adventures shaped me into the person I am today. I am not attached to material possessions. Instead, I place the highest value on relationships with people, including written records of these relationships, such as the ones you find in the scriptures or in family histories. I love to meet new people and look forward to getting to know others and making new friends.

Godson Adjetey couldn’t have known the impact a change of location would have on his life when he moved to the small community of Penyi in the far southeast corner of Ghana. His interest was in finishing his education at a good school. But it was because of that move that Godson became acquainted with The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and on October 30, 2025, Godson will become the first missionary to serve from the Penyi Branch.
Godson was born in Accra, Ghana, in September 2004. Along with his family, he moved to the Volta Region and spent the next 18 years there. He attended Wisdom Junior High School at Aqbozme, where he was a good student. After completing his schooling there, he wanted to finish senior high school and study business at a good school, so he came to Penyi to stay with his uncle and go to school there. Godson recognizes now that the Lord’s hand was clearly guiding this move.
His uncle, a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, owns the building where he was staying, and it was also the building where the full-time missionaries, Elder Wood and Elder Layton, were living. It was only natural for his uncle to introduce Godson to the missionaries, and they began to teach him about the scriptures and the Restoration of the gospel. Godson, who had always been religious after growing up attending a Pentecostal church with his parents, felt his spirit was ready for the fullness of the gospel. He gladly accepted their invitation to come to church and began attending the small and recently organized Penyi Branch.
Godson related that as he listened to the missionaries, the message resonated deeply with him. “I felt the Holy Ghost’s love as I learned we are God’s children. I realized Jesus loves us and gave His life for us,” he said. He felt at home in the branch of about 160 members—many of them youth or young adults who are the only Church members in their families. Godson fit right in and enjoyed coming to church.
His proximity to the full-time missionaries was instrumental in his conversion. As he felt the Spirit testify of the truths of the gospel, he was motivated to associate more with them. That association began with simply helping them find food and navigate the streets of their community, but soon he was not only showing the missionaries where members and friends were located but also staying with them and assisting as they taught others the gospel—all before he himself was baptized.
He attended Church meetings for about one month before being baptized at age 17 on August 23, 2021. He was excited to become a member of Jesus Christ’s Church. The members of the branch showed great love toward him, and he found a special sense of belonging. He particularly liked partaking of the sacrament each week because he understood it was essential for renewing his baptismal covenants. He understood that the path to salvation is a covenant path, and he had a true desire to make sacred covenants.
As he faithfully attended his meetings, served in callings, and participated in various Church activities, his desire to serve the Lord continued to grow. The experience he had had assisting the full-time missionaries before he became a member provided invaluable training and ignited his own desire to serve. “Living by and assisting the full-time missionaries who have served in my village inspired me to be a missionary too,” Godson said.
But the application process to serve a mission seemed a bit intimidating to Godson. As though an answer to a prayer, in July 2024, Elder and Sister Campbell, senior member and leader support missionaries who had recently arrived in the Dzodze Ghana District, met Godson at the Penyi Branch. When these good missionaries learned of Godson’s desire to serve, they enthusiastically began helping him prepare his application and worked diligently to help him complete all the required steps to serve.
They learned a lot together as they helped him obtain his birth certificate, passport, police report, medical documents, and vaccinations. “Preparing to serve a full-time mission was more complicated than I expected,” Godson acknowledged. “But the effort was worth completing the months-long process.”
A pivotal spiritual step in his preparation was the opportunity to receive his own endowment at the Accra Ghana Temple on September 2, 2025. He felt a powerful spirit confirming that the temple was the house of the Lord, a special place for sacred ordinances. “That experience solidified my faith in Jesus Christ, and I felt Christ’s love there,” he said, noting that the temple workers showed great love to him from the moment he arrived.
Godson received a call to serve in the Nigeria Benin City Mission starting on October 30, 2025. Godson wanted to serve a mission so that he could share the restored gospel with others. He looked forward to experiencing life in Nigeria, learning about the people’s beliefs, and sharing his powerful testimony with the people of that land.
Just as importantly, Godson Adjetey is setting a faithful example for the other young people in the Penyi Branch. As its first missionary, he is a pioneer, proving that any barrier can be overcome with faith and support. He is lighting a path that many youth in this vibrant, young branch will now be inspired to follow.

Upon my arrival in Misawa, Japan, I went to a Baptist missionary, but he was unable to answer my questions. He encouraged me to rely on faith, but I could no longer live on the innocent faith I had as a young man. The reality I found in the world as an adult was simply too great. I had to find the answers and I had to find them now.
I was becoming desperate, so a friend asked me to accompany him to the Far East Conference of the Southern Baptist Convention in Shimoda, believing that these learned men would be able to answer my questions satisfactorily. Enroute to the convention, my friend made what he later determined was a great mistake. We stopped in Tokyo to see his friend, Bill Head, whom he had met in Thailand. Upon meeting Bill for the first time, I realized that he was different. Without him even saying a word I knew that he had something that I wanted. He radiated confidence, peace of mind, a love for life, and a love for people. He seemed to know who he was and where he was going. He had the answers I needed so desperately.
I asked him why he was unique. Bill replied, “I am a Mormon.” He gave me some pamphlets to read, and I took them with me to that convention in Shimoda. I read the material. At first the Joseph Smith account seemed ridiculous, preposterous, almost absurd. I wanted to believe that God spoke to men today. I wanted to believe that the heavens were not closed and that God was real. I wanted to believe that he lived and cared about his children and had not left us alone to drift aimlessly through life for some mysterious end. I also knew that if ever the world needed another witness of Jesus Christ it was now. But because it was so new and because it had been such a long time since God had manifested himself to the ancients, I was skeptical.
The next morning I attended a seminar at the convention. The seminar’s purpose was to discuss the anti-Christ ideologies. The first religion they attacked was not communism or some other godless ideology, but Mormonism. They had decided among themselves that Mormons worshiped Joseph Smith and ignored the fact that the formal name of the Mormon church was The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. If that name implied anything, it implied that Mormons were Christians of the highest degree, for they were the only people I had found who claimed the name of Jesus Christ. It wasn’t the Church of Joseph Smith, John the Baptist, Paul, Mary, John Wesley, or Martin Luther. It was the Church of Jesus Christ.
I felt the Mormons were being misunderstood so I attempted to defend them. Now I probably made somewhat of a fool of myself in the minds of those learned people, but in the process of this defense, a still, small voice said, “You’d better find out more so you can do better next time.”
I left the convention that day and returned to Tokyo. I found Bill and told him I wanted to learn more. He introduced me to a young couple, the Fredericks, who taught me the missionary discussions in two days. During that glorious two-day period the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle in my mind fell together and I found myself and my true identity.
““I am a child of God!” I exclaimed to myself. “I began with him. There is purpose and dignity to life, and a great destiny beyond!” I began to realize for the first time that I didn’t have to doubt, worry, be confused, or tossed to and fro by every wind of doctrine because there is a prophet of God and twelve apostles on the earth today, just as there was anciently in the Church of Jesus Christ. I had found his Church!
Less than two weeks later, on August 12, 1970, I was baptized in Kunsan City, Korea. I know that the gospel is true. I know that Joseph Smith was a prophet and that we are sons and daughters of God.

A young boy and his parents are on the Brooklyn with other Latter-day Saints going to California in 1846. A storm came up so terrible that the captain of the ship told them to prepare to die. But they had faith that they would be all right, and the storm finally ended.
Once the hatches were unbattened, the children rushed up on deck like buckshot exploding out of a shotgun. There seemed to be magic in the breeze as the ship sailed quickly along. How good it was to see the sun and to breathe fresh air again! We forgot all about the bumps and bruises from being banged about like marbles in a leather pouch.

The other day I sat beside a friend who had lost his beloved companion. He wept in loneliness, now bereft of an association of more than half a century which had been the very bulwark of his life. But shining through his tears and towering above his doubts was the certain conviction that the marriage performed many, many years ago had been joined by an authority whose power reached beyond the veil of death and which would be as efficacious there as it had been here.