Gospel Story Finder

About 15 miles north of Elko, Nevada, is a stretch of highway dotted with signs warning motorists not to pick up hitchhikers because of a prison facility nearby. To four college students traveling from Provo, Utah, to San Francisco, these signs were a bit unsettling. My roommates and I were certainly glad to cruise by them on our way to California’s Bay Area for Thanksgiving weekend. We didn’t think twice about the signs until four days later on our way back to Provo. It was then that our car suddenly stopped precisely 10 yards north of one of those ominous blue signs.
Our first instincts were to flag down another car and ask for a ride back to Elko. But images of escaped convicts kept us locked inside the car. It was four in the afternoon, it was snowing, and it would definitely be dark and very cold within the hour. We needed help fast but were too afraid to even get out of the car. We offered a short prayer, and 30 minutes later a man driving a snowplow stopped and radioed the police for us. A young officer piled us into his car, called a tow truck, and dropped us off at a motel in Elko.
We soon got over our fears and realized how blessed we were to get off the highway unharmed and be in a safe, warm motel room. Our only problem now was getting back to Provo. Each of us dialed home collect, expecting that our parents would wire money for bus tickets or a rental car. We were surprised when each set of parents immediately offered to drive to Elko and get us.
Even for the closest set of parents, this meant a three-hour drive to Elko and a four-hour drive back to Provo. It meant disrupting work schedules and finding baby-sitters for the other children. Eventually we decided that it would be best for Jenni’s mom and grandpa to drive down to get us. Relieved, we went to bed and expected to see Jenni’s mom by noon the next day.
Things didn’t go quite as planned. Overnight the snow storm had worsened, and the roads were terrible. Despite leaving Salt Lake City at 10:00 A.M., Jenni’s mom didn’t get to us until four that afternoon. The roads back were equally icy, and a typically four-hour drive took six hours. Still, Jenni’s mom and grandpa never uttered a word of complaint during the entire drive home. They were only happy to help and grateful that we would be home soon.
Unfortunately, our earthly parents are not always at the other end of the line when we call. Many parents cannot or will not answer their children’s cries. As I rode home from Elko in the safe confines of a warm van, I realized just how much my parents love me. Even more, I knew that my Heavenly Father would always help me. He does so without complaint, for He is happy just to know that I am on my way home and will soon be safe in His arms.

Talk to career counselors.
School counselors and counselors at job centers have tests and questionnaires that can help you identify your strong points. But these test results can’t measure desire. For example, one young woman had a learning disability that made school difficult. She was told that she would never be able to handle college-level work. She still wanted to attend college, so she arranged for tutors and learned methods of studying that helped her overcome her particular learning problem. She graduated with her college degree and went on to graduate school. She wanted an education badly enough to find ways to reach her goals.

The news came one spring afternoon when I was a college freshman. My parents, who’d been married in the temple 20 years ago, were officially divorced.
That night, I huddled in my bedroom, bearing adult-sized problems on my shoulders. I couldn’t believe my parents would never live together again. I also realized that gone was the future I had taken for granted—Mom and Dad side-by-side attending my temple marriage someday, or together sharing their joy over grandchildren.
Negative feelings clouded my mind. I had doubts about my ability to make a marriage work. I feared ward members and friends would consider me spiritually inferior because of my family’s problems. I worried that family members would fall away from the Church. And worst of all, I was lonely because we were each withdrawing into our own shells of pain.
It’s been years since that difficult night, and now I have good news. With the Lord’s help and with the support of caring family and ward members, I’ve worked through the trial of my parents’ divorce, and my life is very happy.
I have regained eternal hope, have learned to communicate and function well with both parents separately, and have been able to establish my own happy temple marriage. Other Latter-day Saint youth affected by their parents’ divorce have done the same, and I’d like to share our experiences.
Divorce may make you feel you’re losing everything you considered familiar and safe. I remember sitting on my bedroom floor, trying to study, as my dad moved his personal belongings from the house. His shirts, his books, his grooming items—everything seemed so misplaced in the back of his truck.
Christmas traditions were turned upside down as we tried to spend time with both Mom and Dad—separately. Important things like eating dinner all together or attending church as a whole family no longer existed. Too many changes at once can be overwhelming. In times of instability, remember there are strong, stable resources all around you.
Remarriages may be even more difficult to accept than divorce. Remember that you are not being rejected when your parent chooses a new mate—you are loved as much as ever. I understand this more now that I have my own children. My love for them will never diminish, regardless of the circumstances.
My siblings and I have accepted both a stepmother and a stepfather into our lives. We have learned to love and appreciate both. I admit it was difficult to see our parents with new spouses at first, but with time they have become our special friends.

An experience during my first year of junior high school could have left me emotionally wounded and scarred for years; but it turned out to be one of the best times in my life—all because of a very special friend.
That year, the girls my age started forming groups. There were several different groups, but “the group” consisted of the most popular girls in the school. All of my friends belonged to the group and so did I to begin with. But then something happened. I’m not exactly sure what.
One day Bonnie, one of the most popular girls in school, came up to me and told me I was kicked out of the group.
“But why?” I asked. “What did I do?”
“We just don’t want you to associate with us anymore,” said Bonnie.
I realized then that I needed to find a new friend. I thought I could make the group jealous and they’d realized they weren’t hurting me. So I made a new friend. Her name was Vicki. I picked Vicki because I was certain that the group would never pay any attention to her. She was really short, thin, and not exactly pretty. But she turned out to be a wonderful friend.
Vicki and I shared a lot of good times together. We both seemed to enjoy doing the same kinds of things. I was beginning to like being with her so much that I decided I didn’t need the group as long as there was Vicki.
Shortly after Vicki and I became friends, we were sitting on the school lawn sharing sodas and candy and doing a lot of laughing. All of a sudden, Vicki got real serious. She stopped laughing and began fumbling with a candy wrapper. When she finally looked at me, I could tell she had something important on her mind.
“What’s up?” I asked.
Vicki struggled for a minute to control her voice before answering. “I’ve never had a best friend before,” she said looking at me straight in the eye. “Can we promise we’ll be best friends forever?”
“Sure,” I said feeling great. I smiled as I picked up a candy wrapper. “I’d like that, too.”
Some time later, the group started to take notice of Vicki. “Come on, Vicki,” they’d say. “Come eat with us,” or “Why don’t you associate with us, Vicki?”
At first, Vicki declined, but then the invitations got to be too irresistible.
I remember that day clearly. When I got to school, I headed straight for Vicki’s locker as usual. From down the hall I could see the group surrounding her. The closer I came, the louder and merrier their laughter grew. A couple of my former friends looked sideways at me before throwing their heads back in forced bursts of laughter.
Vicki didn’t look at me. She was too absorbed in all the attention. I guess I couldn’t blame her for that. But had she already forgotten our promise?
Just then the girls in the group all linked arms with Vicki in the middle and gaily marched down the hall. They went right by me as if I weren’t even there.
This time I was really upset. I tried not to let the group see how much they were hurting me, but they could tell they were getting through.
Then one day it happened—one of the greatest experiences of my life. Suddenly I realized I had a friend that the group could never take away, someone who would always be there, someone I could talk to at any time, someone who would never forsake me.
As I made this startling discovery, I noticed a warm sensation starting to grow in my heart. It grew until I felt totally engulfed in it. I realized that it was my Heavenly Father telling me that he loves me. I wanted to shout, laugh, or cry. I felt so new, so special, so loved.
A short time later, Bonnie approached me. “How are you?” she asked uncomfortably.
“Fine,” I said with a puzzled expression. There was a lengthy period of silence as she struggled to continue.
“We were just wondering,” Bonnie began, “we thought that you might like to spend some time with us again. You see, we had a vote and, well, most of us still like you.”
“Thanks,” I said, “I’ll see what I can do.” It felt good to have them want me back, but I realized then that being in the group somehow wasn’t all that important anymore.
Through that experience, I had found a true friend whom I wanted to do something for, in return for what He had done for me. I remembered the scripture that said: “Go, and do thou likewise” (Luke 10:37). So I started looking around for someone who needed a friend.

I lay there, feeling disgusted with my family’s lack of consideration for my feelings. I had told them that I didn’t want those young men coming into our home and talking about God. I was bitter about religion and had pushed God out of my life. I blamed him for striking me with multiple sclerosis at age thirty-three and then taking my father a few years later, when I needed him most.
When two young men offered to talk to my family about their religion, I wanted nothing to do with them. But I was unable to walk out of the room, so I pretended to be asleep as they taught my family about Christ and a book called the Book of Mormon. When they finished, one young man said a prayer, and then my mother gave them permission to return in a few days. As soon as they left, I told her that I wanted no part of religion, and if my family wanted to hear such nonsense, then I wanted to remain in my bedroom while the young men were there.
The missionaries returned three days later. Despite my request, my family left me propped up in a chair in the living room. Once again I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep. The young men came in, asked if they could begin with a word of prayer, then started to teach. Although I tried, it was very hard to shut their words out of my bitter world. They talked about where we came from, why we are on earth, what happens when we die, and where we will go after this life. They also mentioned three kingdoms—not the heaven and hell I’d heard about all my life.
The entire discussion fascinated me. And at the same time, it made sense—I knew it was true. Even in my bitter and unforgiving state, I could tell right from wrong, truth from fiction.
I opened my eyes and began to ask questions. Each time the missionaries answered, their faces seemed to glow as they taught me what they knew concerning life and death. I began asking them every question I ever had about religion.
Before they left, they placed a Book of Mormon on my lap. I wanted so much to read it, but because the multiple sclerosis had stolen most of my vision, I had to wait impatiently for my niece to find time to read it to me.
When the missionaries returned a few days later, I was excited about what I had read, but I had a very important question. The missionaries were Caucasian. I wondered if all members of the Church were white and how they felt about black people joining. The missionaries explained that it was Christ’s church and all were welcome. When they said that three black families were active in the ward, I couldn’t wait to be baptized.
A year after my baptism, after much prayer and a lot of effort on the part of faithful ward members, I was able to go to the Atlanta Temple to receive my endowment. Doctors advised me not to make the five-hour trip, but I knew I had to try.
Eleven years ago, when the doctors diagnosed me with multiple sclerosis, they gave me two years to live. Today, I am still alive, although I am totally paralyzed from the neck down. But now that I have the gospel, I am no longer bitter about my illness or my father’s death. I look forward to God’s promise of eternal life if I faithfully endure to the end.

Alan Ashton, 18Bountiful, Utah
“I felt the love of Christ when I was really depressed and the Spirit just came. School was a wreck. I was getting a lot of verbal abuse from kids about being a Mormon. One night I was really depressed. I hadn’t read my scriptures, almost out of spite, for a long time, and that night I just got a warm feeling. I knew Christ loved me. It was great. From then on, I tried harder.”

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

I love to go sledding, especially on the hill by our house. One day, Mom asked my sisters and me if we would like to go. Of course I said yes. Just as we were leaving, Braiden, one of my best friends, called to see if I could play. I invited him to go sledding with us. He hurried over to my house, and we took off for the hill.
The hill was just as icy and fast as I had hoped it would be. We were having a lot of fun! Then Braiden said his hands were freezing. He had forgotten to bring his gloves. I felt bad that he had such cold hands. I quickly took off my gloves and gave them to him. We kept sledding for another hour or so. My hands were probably freezing, but I didn’t care because I was happy about giving my gloves to a friend. I know Jesus Christ would do the same for His friend. I want to always try to do what He would do. I had the best day ever on the hill because I felt warm inside.

Despite our best efforts to raise children who love the Lord, follow His commandments, and live happy, productive, and healthy lives, our sons and daughters sometimes go astray. Straying can mean involvement in drug abuse, criminal activity, immorality, and even abuse of parents and others. Other forms of drifting, perhaps less serious but nevertheless troubling, include underachieving, dropping out of school, and finding little purpose or happiness in life.
Typical parental reactions include sorrow, despair, desperation, depression, feelings of guilt and unworthiness, and a sense of failure. In such circumstances, parents may also experience anger and withdrawal and may feel like simply giving up. These reactions usually make matters worse, deepening the problems they face.
My wife and I have friends who, because of their son’s behavior, have suffered almost every emotion identified above. The past five or six years have been a hideous nightmare for them. They have tried every possible approach, even placing their son in expensive rehabilitation programs in which he typically lasts only a week, despite his good intentions.
The father shared his lament and his hope in these words: “There is no how-to book for parents with young people like our son. You pray to the Lord that He will guide your thoughts and your actions, and you hope you will make wise decisions.” He and his wife, firm in their faith, declare: “We have the ultimate hope that because he has been sealed to us in the temple, the bonds of eternal covenants will be stronger than the bonds of the adversary that now seem to grip his life. We live with hope that the day will come when he will return to his eternal family and repent of his way of life.”
Our friends represent thousands of others in similar circumstances who are meeting challenges almost beyond their capacity to endure. Trials of parenthood are most often associated with children’s growing-up years, but these challenges can arise with children of any age. As parents, we don’t cease our concerns when our children reach adulthood.

Sister Vicki Fujii Matsumori went to Primary even before she was a member of the Church. Her parents wanted her to attend a church when she was a child, and their home in Murray, Utah, was close to a meetinghouse of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
“I always knew it was true,” says Sister Matsumori. When she learned about tithing, she wanted to pay it. When she learned about fasting, she wanted to fast. When she was about to turn eight, she wanted to be baptized.
However, when she asked for permission to be baptized, her parents, George Yasuyuki Fujii and Yoshie Matsumoto Fujii, told her they wanted her to know more about the church she was joining. Her father knew a little about the Church and told her that she should learn the Articles of Faith before the bishop interviewed her for baptism. So she did.
The bishop did not ask her to recite any of them, but Sister Matsumori still treasures the gospel knowledge she gained while she was in Primary.

Hal nevertheless completed his degree in physics in 1955 before entering the U.S. Air Force. The Korean War had recently ended, and the number of young men called as full-time missionaries from each ward had been restricted. For a period of time the Mission Home in Salt Lake City was closed, and no missionaries went into the field. In a blessing, however, his bishop promised him that his military service would be his mission. Two weeks after arriving at the Sandia Base near Albuquerque, New Mexico, Hal was called as a district missionary in the Western States Mission—a calling he fulfilled in evenings and on weekends during the two years he was in the military.

The closest temple for the saints in Brazzaville is currently in Kinshasa, in the DRC. Getting there has not always been easy.
“We organized massive trips to the temple in Kinshasa, which meant we had to brave the challenge of crossing the turbulent river with our families,” said President Gayouele. “It was also during a time when our country was going through a severe recession. Families were destitute, but for these trips, members made enormous sacrifices to pay for the tickets for crossing the river, meals, and accommodation. There were so many of us leaving for the temple that very often there was no more room for us in the Kinshasa temple. Some brothers and sisters had to stay outside the temple and wait for their turn. These trips were times of trial of faith and determination for temple ordinances. Eventually, these trips have enabled us to bring the spirit of the temple into the hearts of Church members.”

I recently resumed my university studies. When the impression came to return to school, I worried about how I could provide for my family. Two days a week I would be in the classroom, not at work. How was my family going to make it?
Again, my wife and I made this challenge a matter of prayer, and the Lord responded. I began receiving permanent contracts, which have made it easier for me to make up workdays I miss while at school.

My wonderful parents welcomed four sons and me, their only daughter, into their home in close succession. We have always been close to each other’s hearts even more than we are in age. We have supported each other and had many precious memories of time spent together. We have always been such good friends!
That is why I felt so broken when one of my brothers ended his life. I worried my heart would not be able to survive the pain—pain is not really the right word. There is no word strong enough to convey the awful experience of losing a loved one to suicide. It turns your world upside down.
I relied on the Lord to help me care for my family and meet my other commitments while I dealt with soul-distressing questions about my brother and his death.
When I asked the Lord for help, I felt prompted to write my questions to the prophet in a letter. I truly believed that my questions were so big and deep that only a prophet could answer them, but I knew it probably wasn’t necessary to send the prophet a letter. I hesitated but then recalled the success I’ve had acting on past promptings.
I went ahead and wrote a tearful letter to President Russell M. Nelson. I wrote about how I felt and how I could move forward if I just knew the answers to the questions swirling in my mind. I concluded my letter, put it in an envelope addressed to President Nelson, and tucked it into my scripture bag.
I forgot about the letter. I noticed it in my scripture bag some time later and opened it. As I read through the letter, I realized that through faith and my own scripture study, prayer, temple attendance, and patience, the Holy Ghost had led me to the answers to every single question I had written down! I felt close to the Savior and His love.
I am so glad I did not mail the letter! Instead, I gained important experiences that taught me again that the Lord cherishes me and all His children individually, and that He will guide and direct us.
I once believed that my questions were so complex that only a prophet could answer them, but I have come to know for myself the truth of the Savior’s words: “I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you” (John 14:18).

As old as I am, I can well remember falling in love with my wife. It was not an easy process. I had been back from my mission for nearly a year when I first dated Marilyn. We had common friends and were friends with each other, but she was waiting faithfully for a missionary. Probably one of my first motivations to date her was to (as we called it at the time) “cut his grass.” It is to Marilyn’s credit that I had to ask her out about six times before she reluctantly agreed to go with me. It was right here on this campus. In fact, for our first date we went to a play in the Kirkham Auditorium. It was exciting to fall in love. You know how it is. Somehow you suddenly run into each other between just about every class. I remember studying in the library and having them threaten to throw me out because I kept talking to her. I am pretty sure that I was convinced that I loved her and wanted her to marry me long before she felt that way. We took classes together. I went to devotional with her. In my innocence I thought that surely no one ever felt love more intensely than I did at that time. There were challenging times along the way, and a couple of times I thought I had lost her to someone else. But through my patient persistence, she finally agreed to marry me. I guess like some of the students I visited with in preparing this talk, I reached a point where the thought of ever doing anything that would hurt her was completely abhorrent to me. I wanted to do everything I could to make her happy.

It was only after we were married that I discovered that even though love can happen naturally, it takes constant work to keep it strong. One of the important things about a marriage is that it is a living thing; it either grows or atrophies. And like any living thing, it must be nourished daily to remain healthy and strong. It takes healthy doses of hearing “I love you” or receiving unsolicited small and large acts of kindness and thoughtfulness to make a marriage strong. It is amazing what can happen if a husband helps wash the dishes or vacuums a floor or makes a bed or when a wife brings an ice cold glass of lemonade to her husband as he labors pulling weeds in the garden. That is what helps make a marriage strong.

Over the years Marilyn and I have played a game called “I love you as much as . . .” Some of my best efforts have been “I love you as much as all the dust particles in the air in Idaho on a dry, windy, summer day” or “I love you more than all the national debt.” I have learned that romantic little thoughts like these go a long way towards keeping love alive and strong.

The year we were baptized a friend bought a building lot for his family and ours by loaning us part of the money. We began to dream of having our own house. Eventually the Spirit prompted us, and we started calculating the cost of labor and materials. We felt that we would somehow manage to build a house where we could raise our children in the gospel, do missionary work, and receive visits from members.
After some time I got better acquainted with Brother Joel, a recently baptized member of our ward. His faith was amazing. Once when we were doing a service project, Brother Joel said to me, “José Luis, we can build your house.” I was on the verge of tears, but I contained myself until I told my wife. It was the answer to our prayers.
A few days later the friend who had purchased the land for his family and ours told me I could have the entire plot and pay for it later. Still I did not have the kind of job that would allow me to buy building materials, but I knew the Lord would provide a way. Several weeks later I was invited to work for a large company. Thus, our goal to begin building a house soon became a reality.
What a labor of love was Brother Joel’s. He did more than build a house for my family. He was ready to help us in any way. We worked only on Saturdays. It took 10 months, and it did not interfere with our Church work. Other Church members also helped us. My father came to help several times, which allowed him to get to know members of the Church better. He especially got to know Brother Joel, who had become our home teacher.
One Saturday my father praised Brother Joel for the way he worked.
I said, “Dad, do you know how much I have paid for his services?”
He said, “No.”
“I haven’t paid him a cent,” I said. “He has done this service because he loves my family. He is a good man.”
I realized my father was choked up, and he didn’t say anything. I felt he was probably remembering how he had treated the bishop and the missionaries and was embarrassed. He saw that the members of the Church had always treated us well.
On the day we finished the house, 16 men, most of them members of the Church, were there. My relatives and friends who were not members certainly learned a lot that day.

Now of President McKay. An unusual experience with President McKay comes to mind in which you may be interested. One day I received a wire from President John F. Kennedy, inviting me to attend a meeting at the White House the following week, to which the presidents of women’s organizations of the United States, having membership of 100,000 or more, were invited. I didn’t wish to attend. I was of the opinion the matter to be discussed was controversial legislation. I felt I might be called upon to speak, and I preferred not to be involved. I knew, however, that I should refer the matter to President McKay before sending my regrets. I took the wire to the President, who read it, and then, to my surprise, he repeated the twelfth Article of Faith: “We believe in being subject to kings, presidents, rulers, and magistrates, in obeying, honoring, and sustaining the law.” Concluding this, he said, “In view of this belief, I don’t see how you can refuse to honor the request of the president of the United States, if it is at all possible for you to go.” Of course I agreed to attend the meeting. I then explained my reason for hesitating, saying what I thought would be the nature of the meeting, and inquired if the President had counsel for me. To this he replied, “Indeed I have. Remember, you do not speak for the Church. This is my role. You speak only for Relief Society.” Then, with a twinkle in his eye, he said, “We would expect, of course, that what you say would be in harmony with Church views, insofar as you know them.”

With the interview closed, I rose to leave the room. The President, as was his custom, walked with me toward the door. In leaving, I once again said, “President McKay, are you sure you have no further counsel for me?”

With great understanding for my feelings he replied, “Yes, I do have further counsel. Go in peace and learn to trust in the Lord.”

I went in peace, and I trusted in the Lord, and I was called on to speak, as I expected. And I attest that I was guided in my actions and directed in my speech during that meeting.

As the wedding day approached, every cedi and every pesewa had been spent for the ceremony. The Ofosu family had spent all their money to have the Ghanaian traditional marriage.
On the morning of the marriage, Samuel Ofosu did not have a car or money to get to the place the wedding was being held. His phone was broken, it was 3 a.m. and he had no idea what to do to get to his own marriage ceremony. With a prayer in his heart, he found someone and asked them if he could use their phone to make a phone call. Samuel had a thought to call a random friend. Thankfully, his friend picked the phone and Samuel told him about the situation. His friend told him not to worry, just wait for a short time. In less than 20 minutes there was a car there to take Brother Ofosu to the wedding free of charge, a pure miracle by God’s hand.
“We truly thank you for your prayers,” Brother and Sister Ofosu told Elder Olsen and Elder Linger. “It is only by your prayers that everything worked out fine. Everyone was safe. The marriage was wonderful. We don’t owe anyone anything, but our pockets are empty.”

“Aren’t you the ones who were singing the other night? Come in!”

That’s the reaction some of the elders and sisters of the Wellington Zone, New Zealand Wellington Mission, are receiving when they’re tracting because of a musical approach to missionary work.

It started when the Wellington Zone decided to share their talents by preaching the gospel by singing. “I Am a Child of God” was their theme song, and it was enthusiastically sung along with other Church songs at a mall in the city of Wellington. Other missionaries were standing off to the side of the singers, talking to people who were curious about why the group was singing and what the Church is about.

“It was a successful way to contact people and tell them about the gospel,” said Elder Scott Latimer of the New Zealand Wellington Mission. “It also helped create fine public relations.”

Elizabeth Ramsay Liongitau is from Vaini, a village on the island of Tongatapu in the Kingdom of Tonga. Elizabeth is the sixth of eight children and the only girl in her family.

Elizabeth did not like school. Her father, however, had a vision for Elizabeth that was different from the family business of farming or his profession of fishing. He wanted her to have a different life than the one that he had. He knew that if Elizabeth could earn an education, she could have a different and improved future. Elizabeth didn’t understand this at the time and was not motivated to do well in school. And so, her father bribed her with chips and other snacks as a reward for good scores in school.

This system of chips for good grades worked for Elizabeth.

As she continued in school, the cost of her education increased. In order to pay for her schooling, Elizabeth’s father would stay out even later than normal, working as a fisherman. The waters in this kind of deep-sea fishing are extremely cold, and fishermen are known to develop severe and painful physical effects later in life because of it.

One night, Elizabeth’s father came home from fishing. He was extremely cold and tired. He asked Elizabeth to make him a warm drink. Perplexed as to why he would work in such a physically challenging profession, Elizabeth asked her father, “Why do you go fishing? Why do you do something that is so cold and you work so late? You should just stay home and be warm.”

Her father explained: “I know that by working, you will have money to pay your tuition, money to eat lunch, and money to buy school supplies.”

Elizabeth realized that her education was coming at a great cost. This sobering realization motivated her to do her part to pay for her own schooling.

After primary school, Elizabeth attended Liahona High School, which is owned by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day saints. Elizabeth knew that if she had a cumulative score of 90 or higher, she would earn a scholarship to pay for all of her tuition. Elizabeth was determined to earn that scholarship. No more needing to be bribed to do well in school, Elizabeth earned that full-tuition scholarship every year that she attended Liahona High School.

Her dedication ultimately led to her graduating as valedictorian from Liahona High School.

Elizabeth applied to BYU–Hawaii, and in 2014, she became the first Pacific Area Scholar to attend BYU–Hawaii. The PAS award, as it is called, is awarded to students from the Pacific Area who demonstrate the highest academic performance and represent the top 5% of their graduating class. The PAS award provides a full scholarship to its recipients, covering the costs of tuition, housing, and textbooks.

Elizabeth maintained the academic requirements to retain the PAS award for all four years that she was a student at BYU–Hawaii.

She graduated in the spring of 2020 with a double major in Biology and Accounting, both extremely challenging majors. In the Fall 2020 Semester, Elizabeth became an adjunct professor in the accounting department.

Because of the gift of education that Elizabeth’s father gave her, she is now able to teach her fellow peers. Education has changed the trajectory of her life and, consequently, that of her son.

Elizabeth’s father passed away two months ago. Today, I am grateful to speak of him with reverence and to honor him and the gift that he gave his daughter. This gift of education will bless his family and our students for generations.