Gospel Story Finder

At the beginning of the school year, I met a wonderful student. She has a big heart and is always willing to share anything of hers with other students. At first, most of them didn’t know how nice she was. Because she has some mental disabilities, sometimes she would do things that made them uncomfortable.
One day the music teacher asked my friend to perform some of the actions for the song we were practicing. When she started to dance, some of the other students began to laugh. I know that most people don’t like being laughed at, so I didn’t laugh at her. I thought about what Jesus would want me to do, and I kept quiet and enjoyed her cute dance.
In the mornings, while we are waiting to go into the school, my friend comes to see me first thing and gives me a big hug. We sit together at lunch as often as we can, and she always has a bright smile that makes me happy to be her friend. Sometimes I see her playing alone at recess, and I make an extra effort to play with her. It makes me sad when I can’t find a friend to play with, and I want my friend to be happy.
In my Primary class and in family home evening, I have learned that Jesus wants each of us to love one another, as He loves us. John 13:34 is my favorite scripture, and I have read it twice in Primary this year. It helps me to remember to be like Jesus. Trying to be like Him gives me a special feeling in my heart that makes me feel good.

Almost a decade ago, I read a letter from a returned missionary who described this process in his life. He had written to thank those who direct missionary work “for daring to send me where the Lord required rather than where I had deemed appropriate.” He had come, he said, “from a background of proud, competitive intellectualism.” Before his mission he was a student at a prestigious university in the eastern United States. Quote:
“I guess out of a sense of obligation and inertia, I filled out my [missionary] papers and sent them in, extremely careful to mark the column indicating greatest desire to serve abroad and in a foreign language. I was careful to make it apparent that I was an accomplished student of Russian and fully capable of spending two years among the Russian people. Confident that no committee could resist such qualifications, I rested confident that I would enjoy a wonderfully mind-expanding cultural adventure.”
He was shocked to receive a call to serve in a mission in the United States. He didn’t know anything about the state where he would serve, except that it was in his own country speaking English rather than abroad speaking the language he had learned, and, as he said, “The people I would work with would likely be academic incompetents.” He continued, “I almost refused to accept the call, feeling that I would be more fulfilled by enlisting in the Peace Corps or something else.”
Fortunately, this proud young man found the courage and faith to accept the call and to follow the direction and counsel of his fine mission president. Then the miracle of spiritual growth began. He described it thus:
“As I began to serve among the uneducated people of [this state], I struggled mightily for several months, but gradually the sweet workings of the Spirit began to tear down the walls of pride and disbelief that had wrapped themselves so tightly around my soul. The miracle of a conversion to Christ began. The sense of the reality of God and the eternal brotherhood of all men came more and more powerfully to my troubled mind.”
It was not easy, he admitted, but with the influence of his great mission president and with his growing love for the people he served, it was possible, and it occurred.
“My desire to love and serve these people who in the ultimate scale were at least my peers, almost definitely my superiors, waxed stronger and stronger. I learned humility for the first time in my life; I learned what it means to make our valuations of others [without relying on the] irrelevant details of life. I began to feel swelling within my heart a love of the spirits that came here to earth with me” (letter to General Authorities, Feb. 1994).

All morning Mrs. Stark’s third grade class had talked about the “Favorite Things Fair” that would be held on Friday. Almost everyone in the room had picked out his very favorite thing to bring to school on Friday.
“Hey, Sterling!” Jay called at lunchtime. “What are you going to bring?”
“It’s a secret,” he said.
“Won’t you even tell me?” Jay asked.
“Nope. I want it to be a surprise.” Sterling’s brown eyes twinkled as he thought about his big surprise.
“Please?” Jay pleaded. “I’m bringing my puppets. Now you know my surprise, won’t you tell me yours? I won’t tell anyone!”
“Nope,” Sterling said. “I’ve made up my mind that it’s going to be a real secret. If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret anymore.”
Just then the bell rang. Jay and Sterling gathered up the balls and bats and ran back to their classroom. “Hey!” Jay shouted to a group of boys just coming through the door. “Sterling won’t tell anyone what he’s bringing to the fair.”
That started the teasing. From then until Friday, Sterling did not have a moment of peace. Everyone kept trying to get him to tell what he was going to bring for the fair. Before school, at lunch, at recess, after school, all the time they kept after him. But Sterling was determined. Every time they asked, he would answer, “A secret is no secret if everyone knows!”
Finally Friday came. It had been hard, but Sterling had not told a single soul that he was taking his pet hamster, Harvey, to the fair. Harvey was Sterling’s very most favorite thing, so it was only right that he should.
But there was one problem. The fair would not be until the afternoon, and if he wanted to keep Harvey a secret, Sterling would have to find a way to hide his pet during the morning.
He thought about putting Harvey in a shoe box. But once Harvey had chewed a hole in a shoe box and had gotten out. Sterling couldn’t take Harvey in his cage, because that would give away the surprise.
Friday morning Sterling sat up in bed thinking very hard. He had kept the secret all week; he didn’t want to spoil it now. Then suddenly he had an idea. He would carry Harvey in his shirt. He had done it many times when he was just playing around, and if he wore a sweater over his shirt, no one would know!
Hurriedly Sterling put on his clothes. He slipped sleepy Harvey in between the buttons on his shirt, put a carrot in for the hamster to snack on, and then he slipped on his brown sweater. It worked! Even Sterling could not see the bump where Harvey was.
He grabbed his books and ran to school. Harvey had cuddled up just over Sterling’s belt and gone back to sleep. This is great! Sterling thought. No one will ever guess until it’s time for the fair.
“Hey, Sterling,” Jay called, “where’s that great big secret? Don’t tell me you forgot it!”
“No, I didn’t forget,” Sterling laughed. “But it isn’t time for the fair yet.”
“I don’t think you really have anything!” Jay said, as he kicked a rock along the sidewalk.
“You’ll see.” Sterling smiled with delight and his brown eyes twinkled. “Everyone will see.”
“Where’s the big surprise?” Lois asked, as Sterling came into the schoolroom.
“It’s not time for the fair yet,” Sterling said. “You’ll have to wait.”
“I’ll bet he doesn’t have anything,” Lois answered.
“You’ll see!” Sterling said.
Just then Mrs. Stark came into the room. “Good morning, boys and girls. It’s time to begin our day,” she said, and e]e stopped talking.
“We will start with our spelling,” Mrs. Stark began.
Sterling was so excited over his surprise that he could hardly sit still, but he knew he must. He patted Harvey under his sweater. Harvey was still asleep.
Spelling time was over, recess had ended, and the only thing left to do before lunch was math. Sterling pulled his book out of his desk. As he did so, it hit Harvey and woke him up. Sterling could feel the hamster nibbling on the carrot. His whiskers brushed Sterling’s stomach. It tickled! Sterling tried not to laugh, but Harvey kept nibbling and tickling his stomach. Finally he couldn’t hold a laugh back any longer. Mrs. Stark looked at him out of the corner of her eye. Sterling covered his mouth and pretended to cough. Mrs. Stark went back to writing on the blackboard.
Sterling started to write the day’s assignment, but Harvey had decided to do a little exercising. He began to run around Sterling’s waist. Harvey’s tiny feet tickled even more than his whiskers.
Sterling bit his lip and held his breath, but Harvey kept running. The more he ran the more it tickled; the more it tickled the more Sterling wanted to laugh.
“Be still, Harvey!” Sterling whispered. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not keep from laughing.
“Sterling Connell!” Mrs. Stark said in a disapproving voice. “What is so funny?”
Sterling grabbed his mouth and tried very hard to stop laughing, but now Harvey was crawling straight up his chest. It tickled even more!
Mrs. Stark walked back to Sterling’s desk. Now she was really cross. “What is the matter with you?” she asked.
Sterling opened his mouth to answer, but all that came out was another laugh. Mrs. Stark was bewildered.
Everyone was looking at Sterling. Again he covered his mouth and tried to stop laughing, but it was no use. Harvey was climbing over his ribs! Now Harvey’s feet and whiskers were tickling Sterling.
“What is the matter?” Mrs. Stark repeated impatiently. Then Jay, who sat behind Sterling, began to laugh too. Harvey was on Sterling’s shoulder and his little head was peeking out of Sterling’s collar. Soon almost everyone except Mrs. Stark had seen Harvey. They all laughed. Then finally Mrs. Stark saw Harvey too. Her eyebrows raised in surprise. “Oh, my!” she gasped.
Everyone laughed even harder. Mrs. Stark looked around the room and then she laughed too.
Sterling pulled Harvey out of his shirt. “Harvey is my favorite thing for the fair,” he said.
“Did you have him in your shirt all morning?” Mrs. Stark asked.
“Yes, I wanted to surprise everyone.”
“You did!” Jay laughed.
Mrs. Stark nodded her head. “You surely did. I’ve never been so surprised in my life!”
Sterling smiled and his brown eyes twinkled with delight. “I guess I was more surprised than anyone!”

My father was a professional pilot and also served in the armed forces in World War II instructing pilots. He was well respected for his ability to fly the many different types of planes that were being used at the time. He had many close friends in the aviation field who also respected his flying ability.
On one occasion, a friend of his from California asked him if he would fly his newly built plane back from the East for him. On this particular trip he asked me to accompany him as his copilot. To me, a boy of 12, my father was a hero. I was so elated that he had asked me to be his copilot. I felt that he trusted and had confidence in me.
It was on the second day of our flight that my father, having done all of the flying so far, started to feel the fatigue of the trip. My dad had been giving me flying lessons for quite a while. He decided that I could navigate the plane while he slept for a few minutes. As a wise parent, and one knowing the dangers involved, he gave me some instructions which were plain and easy to understand. He pointed the way along a straight path in which I should fly the plane. He said that I should never vary from that path. Off in the horizon was my goal, a big rugged yet majestic mountain. In addition, he showed me compass and map bearings and even pointed out Omni beacons which aided pilots when they flew at night or in stormy weather. Then before going to sleep, he reassured me that if anything should happen he would be nearby so I wasn’t to hesitate to wake him. As he began to drift asleep, the excitement of being able to navigate the plane equaled the great responsibility that was placed in my hands. I took comfort in the fact that my father wasn’t too far away if I needed his help.
I wanted to do a good job so that he would be proud of me and let me fly again. My eyes were constantly scanning the horizon for other planes and evaluating the many instruments that decorated the front panel of the cockpit. About 30 minutes had gone by, and my father still slept. I felt so sure of my ability to navigate the plane that I decided not to wake him. The mountain that he gave me as a goal had long since passed. I then discovered a roadway some 10,000 feet below. The cars resembled my little brother’s matchbox cars. The road appeared to be going in the same direction so I decided to follow it.
This was fine for a little while, but then I became bored with following the road and decided to do some experimenting. I began by turning the plane from side to side, then moving the rudder back and forth causing the tail of the plane to go from side to side. I was completely engrossed in my experimenting when I began to realize that I did not know where I was or in which direction I should be going. I was anxious to get back on the proper course and feared being caught in my mistake. I tried to use the map and compass but could not find my bearings because of my lack of knowledge of that area. I tried to recollect my father’s instructions, but I couldn’t remember.
While in the dilemma, I was confronted with another problem. Seemingly out of nowhere two United States Air Force jet fighters flew up and positioned themselves on either side of me. The predicament I was in now was so desperate it caused me to lay aside my guilt and embarrassment. I quickly woke my father up to this awful situation feeling a great need for his help. He took immediate control of the plane, quickly got our bearings and guided the plane back to the proper course. He chastised me for not obeying his instructions and told me that I had been flying over a restricted zone, the site of an underground test launch area for missiles. The jets had been sent up to check us and escort us out of the area.

Sister Chieko N. Okazaki of the Relief Society general presidency recalls, “When my husband passed away, I was in the depths of sorrow and pain and was grasping for comfort. I turned to the scriptures and began to evaluate my life. When I went to church that Sunday after we buried him, I listened closely to the sacrament prayer and felt very surely that I could have the Savior’s Spirit with me—and that I could do this by renewing my covenants with him. It was as simple as that. I am grateful that I can partake of this priesthood ordinance and receive this comfort every Sunday.”

Years ago, Sister Chieko Okasaki came to Ricks College as a devotional speaker. During the luncheon before the devotional she shared with us how in her life she had learned to place her afflictions on the altar of God and consecrate them to His service. For example, she said that things were difficult during World War II. She agonized over the treatment of her people, but decided to ask the Lord how she could turn over this pain to His will. The Lord taught her to use her ethnic background to teach the sisters of the church about the beauty of our diversity in a world-wide church, which she has done so well in her writings and her calling in the general Relief Society. She also had a very difficult time when she lost her husband, Ed. They were very much in love and very close, but instead of remaining alone in her grief, she began to visit other widows in her area to bring them comfort and understanding. Sister Okasaki was able to awake to the healing reality of the atonement in her life and allow the Lord to consecrate her afflictions, not only for her gain, but also for a great blessing in the lives of His other children.[34]

With all the talk about the gasoline shortage and air pollution, people are beginning to eye the bicycle more and more seriously as a means of transportation. But there’s at least one group of cyclists who probably don’t want to even look at another bicycle—for a little while at least.
They’re the nine sore but happy bicycle-brigadiers of Explorer Post 9226 of the Laie Third Ward of Oahu Stake, Hawaii, who have completed a 108-mile pedal-power trip around the island of Oahu.
The first leg of their trip began at one in the afternoon and took them 42 miles along the Kamehameha Highway, over narrow roads, through stop and go traffic, up and down long Hawaiian hills, to beautiful Hanauma Bay where they camped for the night.
The next morning they traveled the remaining 66 miles around the island, passing through Waikiki and Pearl City, and arriving back in Laie by four in the afternoon.
In spite of some close calls on the often narrow and busy Hawaiian highways, there were no accidents—not even a flat tire.
Group members included Explorer leader Tom Hunt, and Explorers Creed Walton, Mark Walton, Matthew Loveland, Mike Farley, Jack Hadley, Ward Lokani, Seuseu Suamataia, and Allen Anae.

The first thing is to set a good example. Lots of people become interested in the Church because of the good example members set. Let me share one story with you. Sometime ago, a little friend named Jessica invited one of her nonmember friends over to her house to play. As they were playing, the friend took Heavenly Father’s name in vain. It took courage, but Jessica stopped her and said, “I’m sorry, but in my house we don’t swear or ever use Heavenly Father’s name that way.” Her friend was not angry but, instead, asked Jessica why. This gave Jessica a chance to tell her friend about the Church.
At one time Jesus taught, “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven” (Matt. 5:16). He is instructing us to be good examples everywhere so that people will see how content we are and become interested in what we believe.

My great-great-grandfather Jens Anderson was from Denmark. And in 1861 the Lord led two Mormon missionaries to the Jens and Ane Cathrine Anderson home, where the missionaries introduced them and their 16-year-old son, Andrew, to the restored gospel. Thus began a legacy of faith of which my family and I are the beneficiaries. The Andersons read the Book of Mormon and were baptized a short time later. The following year, the Anderson family heeded the call of a prophet to cross the Atlantic to join the Saints in North America.
Sadly, Jens died on the ocean voyage, but his wife and son continued to the Salt Lake Valley, arriving on September 3, 1862. Despite their hardships and their heartaches, their faith never wavered, and neither has the faith of many of their descendants.
In my office hangs a painting6 that captures so beautifully a symbolic reminder of that first meeting between my ancestors and those dedicated early missionaries. I am determined not to forget my heritage, and because of my name I will forever remember their legacy of faithfulness and sacrifice.

Perhaps I should share an example from my own experience. Several years ago, when I had returned to Church headquarters after serving in Mexico, I was assigned a parking stall directly behind the space reserved for Elder Richard G. Scott. Often, as I parked my car in the morning, I noticed Elder Scott sitting in his car with his head bowed, praying one more time before he entered the office. Why? Because he trusted in the Lord. He knew he needed Heavenly Father’s help and guidance.

Elder Scott’s example has changed how I start my day. When I arrive at work, I spend a few moments in prayer—expressing my trust in the Lord and pleading that my activities that day will be in accordance with His mind and will, that I will remember who I am and act accordingly, and that He will mercifully fill in the many gaps in which I fall short.

This daily expression has been a meaningful experience for me. Clearly my trials and challenges have not been as severe as those Alma suffered through, yet I can add my testimony to his—that God truly does support all those who put their trust in Him.

When my sister, Nancy, and I were teenagers, we regularly attended our local church. But we began to feel that something was missing, so we decided to investigate other churches.
That summer my sister and brother visited a booth at the Canadian National Exhibition where missionaries were showing a movie called Ancient America Speaks. After watching the movie, they signed up for a free copy of the Book of Mormon. I can still remember the excitement in my sister’s voice as she announced to my mother and me that Christ had visited the American continent.
The missionaries dropped off a Book of Mormon to my sister and asked her if she would like to learn more about the Church. That was how we both were taught the gospel.
More than a year after Nancy and I were baptized, she began dating a young man named Luke. He had a bubbly personality and seemed to radiate love and excitement. At the time Nancy met him, he was looking for direction in his life and was eager to take the missionary discussions when Nancy told him about the gospel. His sister, Leonarda, also was interested in being taught.
Although Luke and Leonarda agreed with most of what was presented, they had trouble accepting that Joseph Smith was a prophet. Once they gained a testimony of Joseph Smith then everything else (the Book of Mormon, the restoration of the gospel, and the gospel principles taught by the prophets) would fall into place.
They came to our home to be taught by the elders. Once again the discussion centered on Joseph Smith. One of the elders suggested that we should each take a turn asking Heavenly Father if Joseph Smith was a prophet and then listen silently for a minute for the answer.
I won’t forget the feeling of peace that came into that room and touched each of our hearts as the Spirit bore witness to each of us that Joseph Smith was a prophet of the Lord. For some of us a testimony was gained that night; for others the truth was reaffirmed. Luke accepted baptism and Leonarda was baptized a few years later with her parents’ approval.
Since that night the Spirit has borne witness to me many times of the truthfulness of other gospel principles. But this experience stands out in my mind because it was one of my first experiences with personal revelation from a Heavenly Father who loves me. I learned that night the truth of the counsel found in Matthew 7:7, “Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.” [Matt. 7:7]

A true story from the USA.
Kaci smiled as she took her seat in Primary. Today had been the children’s sacrament meeting presentation. It had been scary to say her part, but she did it!
Sister Dench, the Primary president, stood up front. “Good job in sacrament meeting today!” she said. “I know you each worked hard to learn your parts.”
“Except for Kaci,” one of the older boys said. “No one could tell what she said.”
Sister Dench frowned at the boy, then turned to smile at Kaci. “You did a wonderful job.”
Kaci tried not to cry. She’d done her best to learn her part. But sometimes her words didn’t come out right.
On the way home, Kaci couldn’t stop the tears any longer.
“What’s wrong?” Mommy asked.
“One of the boys made fun of me. He said I didn’t say my part right.” She started crying harder.
“You did a good job. Daddy and I are proud of you,” Mommy said. “Do you know who else is proud of you?”
Kaci shook her head.
“Heavenly Father,” Mommy said. “He knows you did your best.”
Kaci felt a lot better. She wanted to use her words to help other people feel happy too.
At school, Kaci told her teacher that she was doing a good job teaching.
At home, Daddy was fixing a shelf. Kaci told him he was doing a good job making their house nice.
Outside, Kaci and her brother played ball together. Kaci told him that he was doing a good job throwing.
Telling people they were doing a good job made Kaci feel good inside. When she saw others smile, she knew that her simple words made a big difference!
Watch a video of this story at friend.ChurchofJesusChrist.org.
Illustrations by Greg Paprocki

With her husband’s encouragement—yet reluctant to leave her young sons—Ellis left for the East. She arrived in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, at three-thirty in the morning and slept on a bench in the railroad station until daybreak. Although the next few months of the valiant woman’s life were filled with constant study, she grieved for her children, and she anxiously awaited letters from home.

In the spring Ellis’s husband, Bard, came to visit her. Finding his wife weak and tired, he encouraged her to come home for the summer. After being home awhile, Ellis found that financial problems, the anguish of leaving her children again and the discovery that she was pregnant made it difficult for her to even think about returning to school. Yet her strong convictions that she should serve others, and her desire to help her family, overcame her reluctance, and she returned to her medical studies.

Back at school Ellis had to conserve what little money she had. In exchange for food, she began instructing a baker’s daughters in dressmaking. She was deeply touched when her young son sent her a letter with a pressed flower and a dollar he had earned.

Worried that her pregnancy might end her schooling, Ellis prayed all one night to the Lord that she might have the strength to finish her classes before the baby was born. Ellis did not miss a single class! On May 25, 1877, the day after she passed her exams, she gave birth to a baby girl. Ellis was delighted to have a daughter, and she wrote in her diary: “It is to me the crowning joy of a woman’s life to be a mother.”

The August heat became unbearable, so Ellis took her daughter Olea to the New Jersey countryside. Walking from farmhouse to farmhouse, Ellis finally found a home where a mother welcomed her to stay and teach her daughters dressmaking skills in exchange for board and room.

In the fall Ellis returned to her last year of school. On March 14, 1878, at the age of thirty-one, Ellis recorded in her diary: “Graduated from Woman’s Medical College of Pennsylvania.”

Upon returning home, Ellis moved her family into a house near her office. “Thus began the happiest hours of my life,” Ellis wrote. She was now with her sons and daughter. Her boys helped clean the house, tend the baby, and deliver messages. On one occasion, Ellis was on calls for a period of twenty-four hours, during which time she delivered five babies. When she returned home, her two boys were waiting for her; they immediately rushed her off to bed and made sure she was not disturbed while she rested.

Sometimes when Ellis returned home from visiting the sick, her arms were loaded with eggs, chickens, or butter. Usually she received a twenty-five dollar fee for such calls, but she knew how little money some of her patients had and she was glad to help them in any way she could. “My needs were never so urgent,” she wrote, “that I felt the necessity of placing bills in the hands of collectors.”

Ellis soon realized that she and the few other women doctors in the area were not enough. In the fall of 1878 she opened her School of Obstetrics and Nursing. It was not unusual for Ellis to be pregnant or for her to be holding the baby of one of her students while she lectured.

After returning from medical school, Ellis gave birth to four children—two boys, who died in infancy, and two girls.

Not only did Ellis teach classes in Utah, she also traveled with her children to teach in Canada, Mexico, Colorado, and Nevada.

Successfully combining motherhood and a medical practice, Dr. Shipp helped thousands of people during her lifetime. She died in 1939 at the age of ninety-two.

Let me tell you a little about my childhood and the way I was raised. My parents were second-generation owners of a grocery and general merchandise store in Teton Valley, Idaho. In addition to the grocery store, my father also farmed and we raised sheep. So, as you can guess, there was no shortage of work for me and my siblings when I was growing up as a kid. It seemed like I was always either in school or at work, and I never knew what it was like to have a day off. At the age of ten, I also worked for my uncles on their farm in the summer time, usually driving either a tractor or truck as they loaded hay bales in the field. I started working for $1.00 per day, and by the end of the first summer, I had made some money. My parents set me up a savings account, and then at the age of twelve, they helped me set up a checking account so that I had control of my own money. That was long before the day of credit and debit cards. They did require that I put at least half of my earning into savings for a future mission and college. One of my earliest jobs in the grocery store was stocking shelves on freight day, and I was paid 5 cents for each case of product that I could mark with the correct price and put neatly on the shelf. If I worked hard, I could earn $1.00 from the time I got to the store after school and until it closed. Now, I am telling you all of this to help you understand why being organized is so important to me. I had to be organized to go to school, hold a part time job from about the age of eight, and keep up with my homework in school. As I got into high school, I was involved in football and wrestling after school, and then I still went to the grocery store until closing and then home to do my homework. From time to time, I would also have to be at the grocery store early in the morning before school to help out in the meat department, and I became a meat cutter in the process. I had to organize every aspect of my life so that I could do well in school, participate in scouting, and have a little time to go with my friends and have a date for the Saturday night dance. Since this was all back in the '60s, there were no computers, and until I could take a typing class in high school, my mother had to type all of my term papers and book reports.

Who can forget the devastating Australian bushfires of 2019-2020, known as Black Summer, that burnt over 24 million hectares of land, destroyed over 3,000 homes, killed 33 people and killed or displaced an estimated three billion animals?
For the residents of the Bega Shire in southeast New South Wales (NSW), Australia, the devastation can still be seen two years on. Fifty-eight percent of the Bega Valley was destroyed by fire, which also took 448 homes and four lives.
In mid-2020, the chairman of the Bega Shire Recovery Committee sent a request to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and after an evaluation of the situation, a partnership was formed.
The Bega Shire Council, Latter-day Saint Charities (which is the humanitarian arm of the Church) and the Pambula/Merimbula Rotary Club worked together to provide 66 water tanks to selected recipients in the Bega Shire community.
Water is essential for life and sanitation and is amongst the most important requirements for families in Bega Shire to begin rebuilding their lives. Landowners in remote areas are not on town water and previously relied on rainwater or local streams for their water supplies. After the fires took out almost everything they owned, including their water tanks, locals relied on costly 1000L water cubes that had to be refilled by water tankers. A thousand litres doesn’t go very far even when it is being used mainly for drinking, cooking and basic hygiene.
Mark and Denise Hamstead (humanitarian and emergency preparedness specialists for the Church in NSW and Canberra) coordinated the project with Lynne Koerbin, and Daryl and Angie Dobsons (Rotary Club’s community service directors) to identify families who were most in need.
The first tanks were ordered from local suppliers and delivered to the first of the recipients in early 2021. The last orders were placed in mid-2021 but due to COVID-19 restrictions, a number were not delivered until late 2021.
Brother and Sister Hamstead, assisted by Brother and Sister Cummins (representing the Canberra Stake presidency) and Area Seventy Elder Robert Simpson and his wife visited several water tank recipients in early December 2021.
There were many heartrending stories behind this project. Here are just three examples which also demonstrate the resilience of so many.
Gordon and Susie are a down-to-earth couple living in a small hut on their land after the bushfires destroyed their home in late 2019. They had no access to running water and the donation of the water tank was very welcome.
“More than anything, they appreciated the fact that someone cared,” reported Brother Cummins.
A single man, Jamie, who also received a water tank, had moved to the valley from Canberra shortly before the fires. His home was destroyed. He, like many others, has never fully recovered emotionally from the fires and feels very much alone. The fact that people cared enough to donate a much-needed water tank and visit him to see how he was progressing had a positive impact on him.
Jamie is now building his own house on his property with whatever items of material he can find. From time-to-time, friends donate materials, but it is a slow process—he is doing it largely by himself, with the occasional help from professional friends. He is planning to position the water tank next to the new house once completed.
Zoe and Michael are a couple with two young children. Before the fires, they were living in a small town in the Bega Valley called Cobargo. They had purchased a remote rural property complete with house and an orchard and were about to move in when the fires destroyed both their rural property and their house in Cobargo. Since the fires they have been living rough, camping in a borrowed caravan on the rural property. They received a water tank, a shed (donated by another group) and a bathroom pod built into the shed and connected to the water tank (which will be added to their house when it is rebuilt).
Even though the location of the shed and tank is quite a distance from their current camp, they are very appreciative as they can now bathe their children properly—one of whom had been regularly ill, and one who’d had a broken leg. They say that the newly donated infrastructure has helped to reduce their anxiety levels.
Mark and Denise noted, “During the inspection weekend, we were shown properties, such as Zoe and Michael’s, which had not only received one of our tanks, but the households had also received a bathroom pod and shed donated by another organisation that were willing to provide the pods because we had provided the tanks.”
No good deed goes unnoticed and often precipitates additional help from others.

Elder Meurs told the story of his parents, who lived in the area, joining The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1958.

Fred and Lois Meurs, strong Christians from different faiths were actively searching for someone to answer their gospel questions. After carefully studying the New Testament, they began to search for a church that had teachings that were consistent with Jesus’s teachings.

They had questions about the purpose of life, priesthood authority, what happens when we die, ordinances like baptism, and the role of prophets and apostles. They had spoken to the religious leaders of the community, but no one could give them the answers they were searching for. They began to earnestly pray for someone to answer their questions.

That same week, two full-time missionaries, Elder Jones and Elder Erikson, knocked on their door and said they had a message about Jesus Christ to share with them. Fred and Lois asked them all their questions, and the missionaries answered every one. Three weeks later the Meurs were baptised and confirmed. Some other families joined soon after, and the first Warrnambool Branch was formed.

One of the amazing legacies of this campus is the hundreds of employees and the thousands of students who are guided here by direct intervention of the Lord. Their stories read like something out of scripture, miraculous, compelling. For many years BYU-Hawaii was considered by some as a dead end to a university teacher's academic career. It was seen as a nice place, but hardly a serious institution that would advance one to the top of one's profession. The special mission of this school and the spirit of God have brought some of the finest people in the Church to serve and teach in this place.
Bruce Bowen, former Dean of Admissions wrote that the thought of taking a position at BYU-Hawaii turned his wife Debbie's world upside down. They had just moved into a brand new home they had built. Debbie had just delivered their eighth child. The thought of moving the entire family to a island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean was overwhelming, crazy. But once the idea was deposited, like the seed of faith, it grew and swelled and filled their minds and hearts. He says "It seemed that [once the seed was planted] everywhere we went we met someone who had lived in Hawaii or heard someone speaking about Hawaii or saw something that reminded us of Hawaii, we couldn't get away from it. Bit by bit our hearts were softened as the Lord's will was made known. When we came to the campus for interviews, we had another witness of the spirit while touring the Polynesian Cultural Center. . We moved to Hawaii in June of that year and embarked on the most wonderful experience of our lives . . . we are not the same people that we were before moving to Hawaii, and we will forever be grateful for the way our hearts and lives have been touched by the spirit of aloha." Bruce Bowen is now the Dean of Admissions at Weber State University.

At a certain point in my activation, I loved going to church, but I still didn’t feel perfectly comfortable there. I had to decide if I really had a testimony of what I was doing. Was I going back for my children? For my parents? Because I wanted to feel better about myself? What exactly did it mean to have a testimony of the gospel?
I listened intently to members bearing their testimonies in sacrament meeting, wondering if my testimony was real. One Sunday my Gospel Essentials teacher told us that the only thing a person needs to do to begin gaining a testimony is have faith that Jesus Christ lives and presides over the Church.
These words hit me so strongly that tears started streaming down my face. I knew that I knew that much. I knew that Jesus Christ lives, that he loves me, and that he presides over the Church. I also knew I had a testimony of disciplinary councils, prayer, the Word of Wisdom, tithing, and leaders who are called of God. I went home from church that day knowing that I had a testimony.

Cowboys often have a bad reputation for smoking and drinking. But I’d like to thank my dad for setting the example for me of being a cowboy that doesn’t do those kinds of things.
There was a time once when I was tagging along with my dad to a rodeo. An old buddy of my dad’s came up to him, and they started talking. During the conversation, the guy asked my dad to come to the bar after the rodeo for a drink for old-time’s sake.
My dad just grinned and said, “You know I don’t drink.”
The guy said, “Yeah, I know. I was just checking.”
That answer was more important to me than just a friendly no between friends. I had a great example set for me that day. I respect my father for saying no, and from then on, any time I was asked to take a drink or have a smoke, my dad’s answer would come to my mind and then come to my lips.

When my son married a young woman who belonged to another religion, our family hoped that someday she would become a Latter-day Saint. To my surprise, as I was getting ready for church one Sunday, she said to me, “I will go to your church with you.”
The missionaries started teaching her the discussions, and in 1997 she was baptized. On 10 September 1998 my son and his wife, Katya, were sealed in the temple for time and all eternity, and on 12 October 1998 their beautiful baby boy was born.