Gospel Story Finder

Elder LeGrand Richards, the great advocate of enthusiasm, would want me to mention the importance of embracing life rather than shrinking from it. A few weeks ago a stake president came in to see me. On the way out he stopped in to see Brother Richards, who was coming to his stake conference in a week or two. He asked, “Brother Richards, how are you?”

That great apostle said, “Well, president, I will tell you. My body, the house I live in, is getting old and creaky,” and then he added, with all ninety-five years of his life testifying, “but the real LeGrand Richards is on fire.”

“On our first day of seminary my junior year, the teacher challenged us to become friends with someone new by the end of the semester.

“I like a challenge, so I chose someone who was as different from me as I could.

“I was shy, had the same friends since elementary school, and loved seminary.

“Kevin sang the songs at the top of his lungs and told Brother Howell he would come every day if he promised to give him an F on his report card. (His friends didn’t think seminary was cool.)

“I decided to walk with Kevin to and from seminary every day. Just across the parking lot. It seemed easy. He always walked alone. As soon as we got to the school building, we both went our separate ways.

“It didn’t take long to realize Kevin didn’t have a lot of friends. In fact, over the next few months I realized he only had two. He ate lunch with them, walked the halls with them. And sluffed class with them. But not seminary.

“One day, Kevin and his two friends walked up to me at my locker. Kevin told me he was on a scavenger hunt and needed one of my shoes. I was wearing sandals. It was against the rules to go barefoot in school. But Kevin wasn’t a rule-keeping kind of kid. I debated it for a minute and then reached down to take off my sandal. Then I told him I had to have that shoe back by the end of second period, no matter what.

“I will never forget what happened next. It’s been over three decades, and I still remember as if it were yesterday.

“‘That’s OK,’ he said, ‘I don’t really need your shoe.’ Then he turned around to those two friends and said the words I will never forget: ‘I told you there was one person in this school who believed in me.’”

The famed scientist, Madame Marie Curie, returned to her home the night of the funeral for her husband, Pierre Curie, who was killed in an accident in the streets of Paris, and made this entry in her diary:
“They filled the grave and put sheaves of flowers on it. Everything is over. Pierre is sleeping his last sleep beneath the earth; it is the end of everything, everything, everything.” (Vincent Sheehan, trans., Madame Curie: A Biography by Eve Curie, Garden City, New York: Garden City Publishing Co., 1943, p. 249.)

In February 2022, Sister Basilisa Nadreke Lotawa was asked by the Sigatoka Branch president to serve as a temple and family history specialist. Basilisa’s job was to urge her congregation to lift their spiritual eyes to the light of the temple and to prepare themselves for temple worship. She also had to learn how to do genealogical research and then teach her fellow Saints how to identify their deceased ancestors and perform proxy temple ordinances on their behalf.
Basilisa, a young mother of three, shook her head and laughed. “I knew nothing about doing family history—nothing . . . and I’m too young to do it.” Still, wanting to serve the Lord, she sought the help of an experienced genealogist and was soon able to assist her branch members. With a new conviction and passion for family history, Basilisa expressed: “I am so blessed and honoured to participate in this glorious work. It has been marvelous, tremendous! I have seen miracles and wonders. The Lord provided a way for me to do the work and to help my branch.”
With young children in tow, Basilisa spent many hours at the computer in her chapel helping others to extend the branches of their family trees. She invited them—adults and youth—to find five deceased family members who needed proxy baptisms. Branch members caught her enthusiasm and found two hundred ancestors!
As for Basilisa, there is no doubt that her love for the temple and family history work—even at this busy stage of her life—will continue to bless her. She said: “I feel the same joy doing this [work] that I felt when I served my mission.” She and her branch now keep their eyes fixed firmly on the holy temple.

“I am now a complete man. I have an eternal family!” exclaimed Brother Vincent Quashigah. “There are no words to explain the joy that I feel,” added Sister Esinam Quashigah. It was Aug. 25, 2022, and they had just exited the temple, where the two of them had been endowed and sealed with their children as an eternal family.
Brother Quashigah joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on June 15, 2021, with Sister Quashigah and their four oldest children joining him in baptism two months later. They then patiently waited the required 12 months of church membership until they could travel to the Accra Ghana Temple for their temple work and sealing. However, they did not stand idly by during that time. Shortly after his baptism, Brother Quashigah was called as the first counselor in the elders quorum presidency. Three months later, he was called as the Aflao Branch president. Sister Quashigah served as a counselor in the Young Women’s presidency.
Now, after a beautiful experience in the temple, President Quashigah was grateful that he could finally testify to his branch members of the amazing blessings of temple ordinances and covenants.

Some years ago I returned home to find our little children had discovered some newly hatched chicks under the manger in the barn. As our little girl held one of them, I said in a teasing way, “That will make a nice watchdog when it grows up, won’t it?” She looked at me quizzically, as if I didn’t know much.
So I changed my approach: “It won’t be a watchdog, will it?” She shook her head, “No, Daddy.” Then I added, “It will be a nice riding horse.”
She wrinkled up her nose and gave me that “Oh, Dad!” look. Even though she was only four years old, she knew that the little chick would grow up to be either a hen or a rooster—much like its mother or father.
All animal life produces after its own kind, and little ones grow up to look and to be like their parents. That is true of people too. Small boys and girls grow up to be big boys and girls, then men and women.
I testify that God is indeed our Father. When we reach our full growth and destiny, we have the promise that we may be like Him. Just as all life follows the pattern of its parents, so can we grow toward the image of our Heavenly Father if we will live righteously and be obedient to His commandments.

The Rockland California Stake youth choir gave two performances for their friends, families, and teachers. Jason sang in three special numbers and joined with the whole choir for the larger numbers. These performances, with 121 young people participating, were something that grew from simple beginnings.
It all started at a fireside in the Loomis Second Ward. “The fireside was at my house,” said Amanda Groth. “Everyone was taking a break. Sister Wentzel started playing the piano, and people started singing. Everyone just liked it.”
Danée Call was also at that fireside. “A couple of us girls had a song we were practicing for a sacrament meeting. A couple of the guys came over and tried to pick out their parts. Everybody just came around and was trying to sing. Sister Wentzel said, ‘I think we’ve got a youth choir on our hands.’ We said we would love to do it. Sister Wentzel talked to the bishop, and from then on it was choir practice every Sunday evening.”
The first practice was small. Eric Harms remembers, “It started with seven guys and three or four girls. We liked to sing, but none of us were that talented. We got some of the younger kids to come.”
Those younger kids are growing up and, in turn, are inviting the new Beehives and deacons to join. First the youth choir was just Loomis Second Ward. Then the Loomis First Ward joined to perform at youth conference. Then the choir expanded to take in all the wards of the stake for four months as they prepared to give a concert. Some were worried that the big choir wouldn’t be as good or as close. Anson Call tells about what it was like to take the choir from just their ward to include the stake. “It was like a family when it was our ward. I was afraid it wouldn’t be like that anymore. But it’s exactly the same. The same message and the same spirit, just with a lot more volume.”
At first the ward youth choir sang occasionally in sacrament meeting. Then they performed at missionary farewells and funerals. Expanded to the stake, they decided to give a concert, two performances, where they would invite everyone from their families to neighbors and teachers at school. With 121 singers who were pulling every note from their hearts, the choir was great. “It was so powerful,” said Heather Wentzel, “I almost started crying. I felt like the people in the audience were going to say, ‘Oh, this must be the right church,’ because they must be able to feel the Spirit.”
When the choir is together, singing a song that means something to them, the singers talk about the chills racing up and down their backbones. “Your hair feels like it’s standing up,” said Jadon Andersen. “You feel great.” And now they love that feeling and want more.

I did not appreciate fully memories and self until I, with the help of others, compiled my oral history. I gave my wife a rough copy of my life story and asked her to edit it. My instructions were: “You know me better than I know myself, so please read it carefully and polish the manuscript.” A half hour later, when I returned to see how she was doing, she was crying. I said, “My goodness, is it that bad?” “No,” she answered. “It is that good!” “Have you made any changes?” I asked. “No,” she replied. “It is you speaking, and I don’t want to erase or edit you out of the record.”

Later, we gave bound copies of my history to our children. Both of us knew that the thing would probably be placed on a shelf and read only sometime. A few weeks ago, however, one of our daughters said to me: “Dad, I love you so very much.” I wondered what was wrong and I asked: “What brought this on?” She explained, “It was your oral history; I have been reading about your life.” She added: “I did not realize that you had done. … I didn’t know that you had experiences such as. …”

What a pity it would be if your children and grandchildren were denied that part of you that really should be recorded. Make certain that you are transmitting to your posterity, along with other graces of life, your innermost thoughts, your poignant feelings, and your sincere testimonies. You owe the rising generation this blessing and more.

I try to be like Jesus Christ by helping other people. When I went to Kibben-Kuster School, some of the children in my class had special needs. I helped them by talking to them and giving them hugs when they felt left out—I even learned some sign language. One of the children got hurt at recess, and I went to him and took him to the nurse. Another child lost something she had brought to class, and I helped her to find it. Now I go to a different school, but I still remember my friends from Kibben-Kuster.

On 5 October 1856 at general conference, the commanding figure of Brigham Young, 55-year-old prophet of God, stood at the pulpit in the Tabernacle. Said he—and I’d like to have you think about our day, about the General Authorities who have their talks prepared—to the congregation:
I will now give this people the subject and the text for the Elders who may speak to-day and during the Conference, it is this, on the 5th day of October, 1856, many of our brethren and sisters are on the Plains with hand-carts, and probably many are now seven hundred miles from this place, and they must be brought here, we must send assistance to them. The text will be—to get them here! I want the brethren who may speak to understand that their text is the people on the Plains, and the subject matter for this community is to send for them and bring them in before the winter sets in.
That is my religion; that is the dictation of the Holy Ghost that I possess, it is to save the people. . . . This is the salvation I am now seeking for, to save our brethren that would be apt to perish, or suffer extremely, if we do not send them assistance. [JD 4:113]
He then called on the bishops for sixty good mule teams, twelve or fifteen wagons, forty teamsters, twelve tons of flour, and other supplies; then he said:
I will tell you all that your faith, religion, and profession of religion, will never save one soul of you in the celestial kingdom of our God, unless you carry out just such principles as I am now teaching you. [And then I believe he must have said this with all the fervor of a prophet:] GO AND BRING IN THOSE PEOPLE NOW ON THE PLAINS. [JD 4:113]

At that time, Samuel and Margaret Pucell, husband and wife, were out on the plains with their two daughters: Maggie, 14, and Ellen, 10. Listen to their circumstances:
Margaret became ill, so had to ride in the handcart part of the way. [So Brother Pucell was then pulling not only the 500 pounds but also his wife who was on top of the handcart.] Her husband grew so weary and weakened from the lack of food that this additional burden caused him to slip and fall one day as he crossed the river. Having to travel in the cold, wintry weather with wet clothing he, too, became ill and died from hunger and exposure. His wife died five days later, leaving ten-year-old Ellen and fourteen-year-old Maggie orphans. . . . Many died and many others suffered from frozen limbs, among them the Pucell girls, both having badly frozen feet and legs. . . . When shoes and stockings were removed from the girls’ feet, the skin came off. Although Maggie’s legs were frozen, she would not allow them to do more than scrape the flesh off the bones, but Ellen’s were so bad they had to be amputated just below the knees. [Hafen, Handcarts, p. 138]

On 30 November, a Sunday (now think about the weather and the time and season and how cold it is—oftentimes we’re skiing after Thanksgiving), the Saints were assembled in the Tabernacle again with President Brigham Young presiding. Having been apprised of the imminent arrival of the immigrants, the Martin Handcart Company, he spoke to the congregation:
When those persons arrive I do not want to see them put into houses by themselves; I want to have them distributed in the city among the families that have good and comfortable houses; and I wish all the sisters now before me, and all who know how and can, to nurse and wait upon the new comers and prudently administer medicine and food to them. To speak upon these things is a part of my religion, for it pertains to taking care of the Saints. . . .
As soon as this meeting is dismissed I want the brethren and sisters to repair to their homes, where their Bishops will call on them to take in some of this company; the Bishops will distribute them as the people can receive them. . . .
The afternoon meeting will be omitted, for I wish the sisters to go home and prepare to give those who have just arrived a mouthful of something to eat, and to wash them and nurse them up. You know that I would give more for a dish of pudding and milk, or a baked potato and salt, were I in the situation of those persons who have just come in, than I would for all your prayers, though you were to stay here all the afternoon and pray. Prayer is good, but when baked potatoes and pudding and milk are needed, prayer will not supply their place on this occasion; give every duty its proper time and place. . . .
Some you will find with their feet frozen to their ankles; some are frozen to their knees and some have their hands frosted. . . . We want you to receive them as your own children, and to have the same feeling for them. [Hafen, Handcarts, p. 139]

Then in a way of the prophets, this great man, Brigham Young, told the bishops to send all of the immigrants for whom accommodations were lacking to his home.

Of those who died outside the faith, none was more famous than John Farnham Boynton. Once a faithful apostle, John choose a different road. In 1837 he lashed out against Joseph Smith, calling him a fallen prophet. By 1838, he had turned his energy to the study of science, and had become known as a pioneer in the field of popular science. He invented a fluid and light apparatus for the rapid generation of carbonic acid gas that could be carried by one man to extinguish small fires. He also invented a soda fountain, a method for extracting gold from ore by a vacuum process, various electrical appliances, the process for converting cast iron into malleable steel, and a method for coloring buttons and glassware. Over thirty patents are credited to John Boynton and at least three partnerships, the manufacturing of coarse salt, tar roofing and wall plaster. As he neared the end of his life John’s interest turned to collecting and compiling historic records of the Boynton family. He was President of the Boynton Association with over 600 members organized for the purpose of gathering, collecting and preserving family history.

In 1872 he visited with Brigham Young in Utah. As he mingled with his former friends he was warmly greeted and referred to as “Brother John.” Elder Erastus Snow, whom he had ordained a teacher, told him he had taught the same gospel ever since his ordination. John said, “Stick to it, for it is good” (Forace Green, Testimonies of Our Leaders.[16] John, however, did not stick to it. He died at his home on 20 October 1890 at age 79 outside the faith. He once had the “pearl of great price” but not at the end. He failed to endure.

Occasionally, we are given a reminder of how precious a gift it is to understand the plan of salvation. While serving as missionaries in the Philippines, my companion and I were given a referral for a man named Johnny Sajonas. He was about 75 years old and had become frustrated with religion. The investigator who gave us the referral said he was afraid Johnny was almost ready to completely abandon his belief in God.
After we knocked on the fence just outside his door, a partially bearded old man with a cane in his hand and a frown on his face appeared and asked what we wanted. We told him we were missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and that we wanted to share a message with him about the gospel.
He stood silent, examining us from head to toe for a moment and then observed, “You’re very young. I doubt you can teach me anything.”
Smiling, I responded, “Oh, sir, we have great confidence in our message. Please let us share it with you.”
He took a minute to think about it and finally mumbled, “You come back tomorrow at ten o’clock.” Then he turned and walked in the house.
At ten o’clock sharp we arrived at Brother Sajonas’s house. He invited us inside and seated us in front of a small table. We began, as was customary at that time, with a discussion about the Restoration. As we began to teach, we noticed that our investigator was rather anxious and fidgety. He’d look at the floor, then at the ceiling, then off to the side. We tried desperately to follow his eyes with our flip-charts to keep his attention. To make things even more challenging, he didn’t seem to be listening to what we were saying. After a few moments, he interrupted us in midsentence, looked straight at me, and asked almost angrily, “Who created evil?”
We sat for a moment in shock. I cleared my throat and responded like any good senior companion, “Well … uh … you see, it’s uh … uh … Elder Warren, you want to take that one?” After a few seconds, I finally began to understand Brother Sajonas’s real question: Did God create evil?
I picked up my Bible, and we began to tell Brother Sajonas about the premortal existence. I doubt he’d ever heard anything like this before, since the belief in a pre-earth life is unique to our faith. We referred to Isaiah and told him about Lucifer, who, by his own choice, rebelled against God and fell from heaven, becoming the father of evil.
He paused, then nodded slowly as if to say, “Okay, I’ll buy that for now.”
Hoping we had answered him adequately, we tried to continue where we had left off in the discussion. But again our investigator was off in another world.
Again he stopped us, loudly demanding, “Why are there so many wars?”
“Uh … well, you see, it’s uh … Elder Warren, you want to … uh.” Then the answer came to me again. “You see, sir, it has to do with something we received in the premortal existence. It’s called moral agency.” We explained how people seem to have a hard time getting along. Often they are selfish. Occasionally, a leader will send his country to war for selfish reasons, and the countries attacked must defend themselves. We said that God helps us a lot, but He wants us to learn to solve our own problems so we can learn and grow, which is what life is for. Our response seemed to start him thinking, and we continued with the discussion. After another minute, he stopped us a third time and asked, “Why do so many children starve?” What a good question. I had asked myself similar questions on many occasions.
In silent prayer, I begged the Spirit to teach us what to say. “Heavenly Father has a different perspective than we do,” I began. “When we see a child die, that’s how we see it—a child dying. I believe that Heavenly Father, on the other hand, sees one of His own spirit children being set free and coming home to Him. Of course, we need to do all we can to prevent suffering. God expects us to. But when death comes, we return to the peace and love we knew in God’s presence before this life.”
It was at this point we realized we were teaching the wrong lesson. Every question he asked was answered in the Purpose of Life discussion. The introductory visual aid for this discussion listed three questions. I opened my flip-chart and began to explain. A change of expression came over Brother Sajonas’s face, and we watched him in silence as he read and reread each question on the flip-chart:
Where did I come from?
Why am I here?
Where will I go when I die?
His eyes moistened, and tears fell from his face. I had never had this reaction with this picture or any other in our flip-chart, and I wasn’t sure what was happening. I looked at Elder Warren, looked back at Brother Sajonas, and then the Spirit spoke to my mind: “Elder, testify.”
Sitting up on the edge of my chair, I testified that we knew where we came from, why we are here, and where we are going.
He sat sobbing for a moment, then he stood up and walked slowly to the back of the room. Picking a little red book from the shelf, he returned to where we were sitting. He opened the book to the back inside cover, held it up in front of our faces, and said tearfully, “You are so young!” Written in old man’s shaky handwriting, I read:
My Eternal Questions
Where did I come from?
Why am I here?
What do I need to accomplish?
Where will I go when I die?
After we read the words, I looked back into Brother Sajonas’s teary eyes as he marveled, “You are so young, and you’ve come from so far to teach me these things.”
The next day we explained the entire plan of salvation to him with little cardboard visual aids. In the middle of the lesson, Brother Sajonas bowed his head, covered his face with his hands, and cried: “I have been looking for this for 40 years.” Who would have guessed that three little questions on a flip-chart could bring a 75-year-old man to tears? He was an educated man who only wanted answers to three simple questions: who was he, where was he from, and what did God expect him to do? And one day a couple of 19-year-old elders walked in and taught him simple gospel truths.
Elder Warren and I walked back to our apartment in silence that day, struck with the power of the tremendous knowledge we possessed and had possessed since we were in Primary. I had taken that knowledge for granted. I felt the joy of sharing the plan of salvation and a profound awareness that in every country we have brothers and sisters who are “only kept from the truth because they know not where to find it” (D&C 123:12).

A Laurel from Arizona writes: “It was October and our high school homecoming was fast approaching, but I was only 15 and a half when a guy asked me to the dance. I thought about saying yes and meeting him at the dance. My parents wouldn’t know. But then I realized it didn’t matter that my parents didn’t know—Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ always know, and they are the ones who really count. I didn’t go to the dance. Instead I had my girlfriends over. I felt so happy and free and full of life” (letter in possession of Young Women office).

In the fall of 1935 Amelia took a position with Purdue University as counselor in careers for women. The young people loved her and she became the idol of the campus.
Purdue honored Amelia with a variety of special gifts, including a Lockheed Electra, a plane that would seat ten passengers.
“I’m so overwhelmed with all this,” Amelia exclaimed. “It doesn’t seem possible! I’ll have to repay you for all of these gifts.”
Amelia soon decided that the logical way to repay everyone was to make a truly spectacular flight. She began making plans to fly completely around the globe, following an equatorial route. By March of 1937 all was ready. Amelia took off with Captain Manning as navigator. But trouble with the landing gear sent the Lockheed Electra back to California for repairs after the second stop. When the plane was repaired, Amelia and a different navigator, Fred Noonan, flew across the continent to Miami, Florida. Meeting with reporters, she said, “I have a feeling that there is just about one more good flight left in my system, and I hope this is it. After it is over, I plan to give up major long-distance flights.”
At about six o’clock on the morning of June 1, 1937, Amelia climbed into the Electra at Miami Airport. The plane zoomed across South America, over Africa, and on over Asia. Amelia and Noonan were eagerly welcomed everywhere they landed.
Setting down at Lae, New Guinea, Amelia and Noonan prepared for their final long flight. Their route was to take them to Howland Island, twenty-five hundred miles away in the Pacific, back to Honolulu, and then on to California. America was planning a gala homecoming.
The first few hours after takeoff from Lae were ideal. Then trouble began. It seemed as though nature threw all her obstacles at the two fliers—rains, fogs, and squalls pelted the aircraft.
Then, when the Lockheed should have been close to Howland Island, the Coast Guard picked up Amelia’s frantic message. “Cannot hear you. … Please take a bearing on us and answer. …” The small aircraft was having radio trouble and could not hear the Coast Guard. A final message came. “Circling … cannot see island. … Gas is running low … running north and south. …”
Then silence.
A nation mourned the loss of a brave lady and her copilot whose watery grave and its location still remain a mystery. But Amelia would have chuckled at the numerous earthbound monuments built in her honor since her disappearance. For her true monument is the sky.

It may have happened several months ago, but being part of the Masskara opening number for the cultural show we staged during the welcome dinner for the Tabernacle Choir in February and during the area broadcast with Elder and Sister Stevenson in May still inspires me.
Looking back, I had to sacrifice my weekends to attend the practices. There were times when I felt so tired, especially since I had to juggle family, a ton of school work, and practices while also waking up early, traveling, dealing with sore muscles, and more.
Despite this, I knew that I was doing it for the Lord and that all of my efforts would be worth it. I felt the Lord’s hand every step of the way. On top of that, I got to know so many people, built unexpected friendships, and had so much fun!
We were only given less than two months to practice compared to previous cultural presentations which had several months of preparation, so I was amazed that we were able to learn the steps quickly. I was also inspired by the hard work of those around me, especially the trainers and those who arranged the show.
They were sacrificing so much of their time and effort (to the point that some even sacrificed their sleep), and they were so patient with us. They cared for each one of us. I felt this the most when our trainers gave each of us awards that were well thought out and personalized, which deeply touched my heart. Our trainers also pushed for us to bond with one another, and I think this bond we have with our fellow dancers would not exist without them.
On the day of the performance, we all gave our best. When I saw how the Tabernacle Choir members enjoyed our performances so much, and how they were moved to tears, it made me feel that all of the efforts and sacrifices we made were worth it. I was also surprised and moved to tears when they sang a song for us. It was such a memorable experience for me. That moment felt like we were Zion—of one heart and of one mind, all worshipping the Lord, all united by music. Nothing can replace the sacredness and joy that I felt that night.
Three months later, we performed our Masskara dance again, this time with Elder and Sister Stevenson, the Area Presidency and their wives, and the entire country as the show and the devotional were broadcast live! We experienced the same high, this time brought about by the inspiring words of Elder and Sister Stevenson. They counseled us to P.R.O. every day: Pray over and over, Read time after time, and Obey again and again.
My Masskara co-dancers and I have been trying to apply the things we learned during our rehearsal period and our recent performances, and today I am happy to note that among the Masskara dancers, three are already serving their missions, and two have received their call.
Those who are serving include Sister Alcantara, a service missionary serving in the Quezon City North Mission, and Sister Russel Bañaga and Sister Krizzia Arpellida, both serving in the Philippines, Urdaneta Mission (they entered the MTC on July 19, 2024). Meanwhile, Brother James Ejercito’s mission in Seoul, South Korea started on September 27, 2024, and Sister Maren Rivera will serve in the Philippines Baguio Mission on November 1, 2024.
Sister Alcantara and Sister Bañaga were part of the previous generation of Masskara dancers who volunteered to train and teach the current batch of Masskara dancers. They showed patience and charity as they developed close relationships with the youth and taught those who had difficulty with the steps. Their example not just as dancers but as servants of the Lord is such a blessing to all of us.
Sister Arpellida, Brother James, and Sister Maren were all part of the current generation of Masskara dancers. The three of them developed a close friendship during the practices, and shared their progress along the covenant path, encouraging and inspiring each other. They showed resilience and perseverance despite having sore bodies as they continued to practice every Saturday from 8:00 am to 5:00 pm.
I can’t remember how many generations of Masskara dancers there have been since it started 14 years ago when they performed it during the Church Jubilee celebration at the Araneta Coliseum. As a primary child back then, I was amazed by the colorful and energetic number. I was also inspired by the many dancers and trainers who have served missions through the years. The legacy continues, and I hope more of the dancers from my generation will go and serve.
These missionaries and soon-to-be missionaries inspire all of us fellow dancers. They sacrificed their time and talents to the Lord to serve him through performing for the Tabernacle Choir and Elder and Sister Stevenson, now they are sacrificing their time and talents to invite others to come unto Christ and help them receive the gospel of Jesus Christ.

When Francesca Morelli met the missionaries three years ago in northern Germany, she was 16 years old and facing harmful pressures from peers. “Two weeks before I met the missionaries,” she says, “I had friends who wanted me to start using drugs. Then I met the missionaries, and everything changed.”
After several weeks of discussions, Francesca wanted to be baptized, but her mother was vehemently opposed to the Church. Only after much pleading and heartache did Francesca finally receive her mother’s permission. She was baptized on 23 November 1997. Members of the Altona Ward, Hamburg Germany Stake, welcomed her with love and fellowship. The other young women have been especially supportive. “My closest friends who have never left me alone are from the Church,” says Francesca.
Since her baptism, Francesca’s mother has followed her example and joined the Church, and her younger brother is hearing the discussions and looking forward to his own baptism. “I’m just thankful I met the missionaries when I was so young,” says Francesca. “I don’t know what would have happened to me if I had not found the gospel.”

Several years ago, a young man named James traveled internationally with a group of athletes. He was listening to a conversation that another athlete, Tom, was having about a beautiful young woman whom he was interested in—you. Most people considered Tom to be a very good-looking and well-accomplished athlete.
Tom admitted his disappointment that you had such high standards. In order for him to date you, you asked that Tom seriously consider the teachings of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Tom said the standards of sexual purity were more than he had expected. James was deeply impressed that there was a Church with young people who were so serious about their religion and standards, and he asked for the name of the Church.
On returning to the United States, James decided to go to a Church meeting and see what inspired such dedication. He surprised the missionaries by showing up at church one Sunday. Soon afterward, after receiving the missionary lessons, James was baptized. Years later, I met James at a single-adult activity, and we were eventually married for time and all eternity in the temple.
I often think of you. It may have been uncomfortable for you to hold up high standards to a good-looking athlete, but I’m grateful you did. There is no way you could know how your dedication to high moral standards changed our lives. We just celebrated our 16th anniversary. I wish I could meet you. I would like to show you our lovely children and our happy home.
I hope you understand that even when you simply live your standards, you can have a profound effect on the lives of others. Being morally clean is a path to more than just personal happiness.

Ivor, my third son, was still living in the village. He was destined not to be with me long. He had been born two months early and was so tiny that his mother carried him on a pillow. He grew to manhood but suffered from a heart disease. He was the poet in the family, and even though his health was poor he was always happy. I can hear him yet as he sang to the trees in the woods that bordered our home. I remember that day only a few days before his heart failed him that we walked together up into the meadow and we looked across the valley. He took my hand in his and spoke softly. “Listen Tad” (that’s Welsh for Father), and across the valley came the plaintive call of the cuckoo. “Isn’t it lovely? The cuckoo tells of the coming spring, and soon the meadow will be white with daisies, and the thrush will sing a joyful tune. Aye, my Tad, it’s a grand world that God has given us.”
He died in his sleep and was buried beside his mother in the little cemetery on the hill.
The funeral was quite an event in our village. It was the first LDS funeral ever conducted there. Many people came out of curiosity, but most came because Ivor was loved and respected. Jones, the undertaker, in his black suit and top hat drove the hearse with a pair of black horses.
It was less than a mile to the cemetery, and the mourners walked behind the hearse. Soon the villagers started to sing. At first their voices were quiet like the summer breeze on Rhysog Mountain. Then as the words came, “Feed me till I want no more,” their voices raised in a great crescendo like waves breaking on a rocky shore. Oh, my people from whom I came, your songs of mourning are still in my heart, and I know that my son and my Bess heard.

It took me seven years to qualify to serve a full-time mission. When I first spoke with my bishop, Bishop Tapueluelu, about it, he gave me some guidelines to strive to live by. He said if I followed them and learned to be obedient, I would be blessed. The first few guidelines—daily scripture study and weekly church attendance—were pretty doable. “This is easy,” I thought. But I got offended when I was told to change certain “worldly” things in my life, and my pride and stubbornness got the best of me.
Hoping for an easier way out, I moved to four different wards and spoke with four different bishops. I even went back to school to pursue a medical degree. Then I felt prompted to drop everything and prepare once again to serve a mission. So I did. I went back to Bishop Tapueluelu and humbly asked for his help. I was told that there was a weight requirement for missionaries—and I realized that I weighed over the limit. Immediately, feelings of discouragement and embarrassment cluttered my mind, but my bishop encouraged me. He expressed his love and faith in me and said, “My door is always open. We can work on it together! One weakness, one week at a time.”
So I visited with my bishop every week, working out one weakness at a time. I had no idea that I’d have to wait another four years, just trying to qualify to serve a mission.
During those years, I strived to come closer to Christ and apply His teachings in my life. As challenges came, His Atonement became real to me. I relied on the power, comfort, and strength He gave me through His Atonement when my best friend passed away, when our family lost our home, and when I got into a car accident. When circumstances caused me to lose many of my friends, I fell into depression, but the Savior pulled me out. My Friday nights with friends were replaced with working out at the gym and studying about the Atonement of Jesus Christ.
I prayed every night for the people whom I would one day serve and even for my future companions!
I eventually qualified and was called to serve in the New Zealand Auckland Mission, Tongan-speaking.
When I entered the missionary training center, I realized that there was more to learn about Jesus Christ and His Atonement and myself. Even though I’m of Tongan descent, I had never been to the South Pacific islands, and I struggled with the Tongan language. When I got to New Zealand, I had no idea what people were saying to me in Tongan. I had so much to say, but because I couldn’t speak the language, my words were few, simple, and broken. I nodded my head when people asked me questions. They laughed at me, and I laughed with them, but behind closed doors the laughter turned into tears of frustration and discouragement. I thought to myself, “I worked seven years to come out here for this?”
So I prayed to Heavenly Father. In Ether 12:27 we learn that our weaknesses can become strengths if we trust in Him. I told Him about my weaknesses and my trust in Him, and I got back up again … and again … and again. I started to rely even more on Christ and also on my strengths.
I love this gospel and I love street art, so I decided to combine the two. I packed my scriptures, a sketchbook, charcoal pencils, permanent markers, and cans of spray paint in my backpack. My companions laughed and asked, “What are you doing with spray paint?” I explained, “I may not speak the language yet, but I can show others my testimony.”
For the remainder of my mission, I used street art—on paper, not on buildings—and the Spirit to teach others about Christ. And as crazy as it sounds, it worked. Many people didn’t want to hear my message, so I sketched it. Doors and eyes opened when I told them that I did graffiti. They didn’t believe me. They timed me for three minutes, and I sketched the word faith while teaching them about it. Among them were many who felt judged and unloved. I could testify that with faith in Christ we can feel of His love and forgiveness, and He can help us change for the better. He did for me.
Seven years of preparation for my mission helped me find myself. That time allowed me to gain a testimony of Christ’s Atonement and His power to help me overcome my weaknesses and use my strengths to share what I knew with others. In the end it was worth the seven years.

My freshman year at university, I was sitting in Relief Society when someone shared an experience where she felt impressed to write down how she thought God felt about her.
This struck me.
When I got home, I felt impressed to do the same thing. But after 10 minutes of sitting there with nothing written down, I burst into tears. I felt like a fraud. So much of my testimony was based on God and His perfect love for us. And yet I couldn’t even write anything down.
I knew that God loves all His children, but for some reason I felt like the exception.
How could that be?
When I began attending therapy the following year, I was able to start working through my thoughts. My therapist pointed out that I had a tendency to be an all-or-nothing type of person. I believed that either I had to be perfect at keeping the commandments or I wasn’t strong enough. And I realized I had decided that because I couldn’t feel God in my life, He didn’t exist. But looking back on my life, I knew that couldn’t be true. And so I realized the issue was me, not God.
Ever since I was little, I had engraved into my mind this idea that if I wasn’t perfect, I would never be good enough. Of course, because no one is perfect, I found myself swimming in a sea of insecurities. I was uncomfortable with the idea that I could be worth something. It was because of this that I always felt like I didn’t measure up and didn’t deserve anyone’s love—including God’s.
For a while, I had tried to combat my loneliness and feelings of inadequacy by trying to be everything. I busied myself with every activity I could find to keep my mind off the real issues in my life. And I spent an excessive amount of time considering others’ needs as a way to avoid having to focus on my own. I tutored, played tennis, baked for all my friends and neighbors, and became a teaching assistant. I also worked part-time, took a lot of classes, and was the president of multiple clubs and groups on campus.
To those looking from the outside, I was the girl who had it all together. What they couldn’t see was that inside, I was desperately searching for something to make me feel good enough. But always trying to do more and more only brought added confusion into my life as to who I was and who I wanted to be.
Toward the end of my freshman year I realized how badly paralyzed I had become by my feelings of worthlessness. I had allowed myself to be so overwhelmingly insecure that I denied myself all the amazing things life offered and was becoming numb to my own life.
I stepped back and wondered why, despite doing so much, I still felt nothing. This sent me into a dark depression. What do you do when you feel absolutely abandoned by God?
Anxious to move forward but feeling empty as I wondered how God really felt about me, I realized that something inside of me needed to change. This realization started me on the path to feeling God’s love for me.
At first, I didn’t know how to start; that task alone felt daunting. But over the next year, I relied on the Lord and His infinite goodness to get me through each day. I found so much strength and peace of mind in reading the messages of prophets, pondering the temple covenants I had made, setting even just 10 minutes aside each night to read the scriptures, and communing with Heavenly Father in prayer throughout the day.
As I did these things, I began to see His hand in my life. I didn’t know who I was or what path in life to choose. I didn’t know what path could ever make me feel good enough. But I soon realized that what I really needed was to know who I was to God.
I am now in my last semester at university. Among all the stresses of being a student, employee, daughter, sister, and friend, I have realized that knowing my worth and understanding how God feels about me are vital to my success in all that I do.
There are still many unknowns about my future, and that’s OK.
For me, knowing that I don’t have to be perfect right now helps get me through each day. I know that God is aware of me. I also know that even when I can’t feel His love, He still is patiently working with me.
Over the past few years of this struggle, God has helped me discover qualities and talents in myself that I would have never noticed before. Most importantly, in time, through personal revelation and daily efforts to understand God’s will for me, I’ve learned how He feels about me. I’ve been able to draw liberally on the Savior’s power and the blessings of His Atonement in my life. This has helped me to feel God’s love and know that I am His beloved daughter.
In reading the messages of the prophets, I was touched when I read these words from President Russell M. Nelson: “Feelings of worth come when a woman follows the example of the Master. Her sense of infinite worth comes from her own Christlike yearning to reach out with love, as He does.”
He also noted, “[A woman’s] self-esteem is earned by individual righteousness and a close relationship with God.”1 From this, I have come to understand that who I am is more than the combination of the things I do or say. I am an eternal being with an extraordinary calling to lead with love and compassion, just as the Savior did. And that understanding transcends anything my depression may try to tell me.
Even now, I still find myself sometimes forgetting what God’s love feels like and what lasting joys there are in the smallest and most ordinary moments of life. But the miracle of Christ’s Atonement is that it is not only for repentance; His grace also enables us to get through each day and to love ourselves. I forget that fact a lot, but it is still true.
There is no escaping that we are prone to human nature and that these moments of divine clarity and inspiration may not always feel so true. So to help us, we can write down and look back on the times when we have felt God’s love. We can keep trying to seek ways to feel that love. Our daily worship and continued efforts to deepen our personal holiness will not only strengthen our relationship with our Heavenly Father but also increase our personal happiness and self-esteem. Christ can magnify these efforts to help us become who our Father in Heaven wants us to be.
I am determined to keep trying because I have hope in Christ. I know that life will continue to get better and that I will grow as I rely on Him. Once I discovered how infinite God’s love for me was, I was able to find greater strength each day to push past heartbreaks and overcome my feelings of inadequacy and my need for perfection.
When I find myself falling back into my insecurities, I remember that God thinks that I am funny, kind, giving, and beautiful. Most of all, I remember that He sees me trying.
President Thomas S. Monson (1927–2018) declared: “God’s love is there for you whether or not you feel you deserve [it]. It is simply always there.”2 I am so grateful for this truth. In our deepest struggles, we can see God’s glory in helping us move forward. He is always cheering us on.