Gospel Story Finder

I was baptized and became a member of Pacdal Ward, Baguio Philippines Stake, on 12 July 1992, one month before my seventeenth birthday. My baptism was the greatest birthday gift I have ever received.
Although I had a testimony when I was baptized, my heart desired a deeper understanding of the gospel and a stronger testimony of the Church. But this was a difficult time in my life. It seemed my testimony was under assault from many directions.
My grandmother often tried to discourage me from observing the Sabbath day. She disliked the fact that my sister Mila and I had to spend so much money to get to church. Our house was far from the meetinghouse, and transportation was expensive. But for me, the value of the word of God I received at church was worth millions of times more than the money we spent getting there!
I also had a difficult time in my peer group. Among my friends were four young men who were members of another religious group. They often shared with us teachings from the Bible. When they learned that I was a Mormon, they gave me a pamphlet that argued that ours is not a Christian religion. In giving me the pamphlet, they sincerely believed they were helping me.
I was interested, so I began reading the pamphlet. It included a lot of discouraging, negative comments about our church. As I read, confusion and doubt about the Church filled my heart. I still wanted to believe the Church was true—I had had some wonderful experiences while learning the gospel and attending church. But now my feelings were so confused that I began to doubt. I felt as though my soul were wandering. I stopped going to church and quit reading the Book of Mormon. I was frightened.
Finally I decided that I could not clear up this confusion on my own. I went to Joey, one of my friends who had given me the pamphlet, and shared my feelings with him. Being a Christian, he suggested that we pray. In his prayer, he asked God to help me know the truth and to give me peace of mind.
After he finished, I felt inspired to pray for help myself. Joey had taught me a valuable lesson: During my confusion, I had not bothered to pray. How ashamed I felt! Why hadn’t I prayed? I was a Latter-day Saint—but a very emotional one, one who had been easily overcome by this adversity. I went home that day with my heart filled with a prayer that God would tell me the truth.
He answered me. I can’t tell you exactly how, for what I felt came from the deepest part of my soul. But I knew, and boldly declare to the world, that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints contains the fulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ. It is true!
To the youth of the Church around the world who may be confused, I say, Don’t forget to pray! God will answer you.

Attention Scouts! All that time spent in first-aid workshops can really pay off. It has for Rhyan Donahoe of the Tuckahoe Ward, Richmond Virginia Stake. At 15, he’s already been able to save two lives by using the Heimlich maneuver.
Rhyan works at Ginter Hall, a retirement/convalescent center. That’s where he had the opportunity to save two elderly patients’ lives. The nurses there are impressed with Rhyan’s quick-thinking, take-charge attitude. Rhyan says humbly, “I’m glad I was able to help.”

Sometimes service can actually save the lives and the spirits of others. While I was in Sweden last summer, I had a sister tell me of a story of service she and others had performed for an orphanage in Russia. The story has been written in the book entitled To Rejoice as Women, written by Veronika Ekelund. I would like to tell a very short version.

When the Relief Society had its sesquicentennial anniversary not long ago, sisters from all over the world were challenged to do significant acts of service for their community. When they found how much the children were in need, the Handen Ward in Stockholm, Sweden, decided to direct their attention to the plight of the poor in a Russian orphanage in Syktyvkar. It was far from Stockholm. To get there from Moscow took 26 hours on a train. Bishop Rydgren approved the project just as long as all ward members participated. They found that the children in the orphanage had to take shifts going to school because they lacked the warm clothing necessary. When the Swedish ward learned this, everyone in the ward wanted to donate warm clothing and any other items that would benefit the children. The response of the Saints was overwhelming. They gave a refrigerator, two sewing machines, clothes, tools, dishes, shoes, skis, ice skates, toys, and more. There was so much that they wondered how they could transport all of the items. The estimated cost of $30,000 was too high for chartering a plane and the drive was too far (about as far as from Salt Lake City to Mexico City). It would also have been dangerous, due to off-limits military regions and bandits who would do anything to gain the goods. It looked as if the project would die after all.

After much prayer and searching, a friend, Svetlana, was found in Moscow, and the goods were shipped to her in 258 boxes. They needed to be guarded, and as is usually the case, the right forms releasing them to her were not there. After managing to obtain the signed forms, she finally persuaded the customs office to let her take the boxes. Then began the difficult work of transporting the goods by train to Syktyvkar.

What an ordeal! The Swedish Relief Society president and her husband, Ingrid and Mats, who went with Svetlana, were overjoyed when they saw the 65 children and 15 leaders at the orphanage receive the boxes. Many of the children had no parents, or their parents were ill, mentally disabled, or imprisoned or had abandoned them. The donated items brought great pleasure to all the recipients.

The children in turn presented a special program of dance, song, and drama. In Russia the arts are an established part of their culture, and this was their way of saying “Thank you.” That reunion had brought much happiness. The husband and wife returned to Sweden with loving stories to tell all of the ward. The joy did not stop there, however. The ward decided to bring all the children and leaders to Stockholm for Christmas. What an undertaking! They needed visas, transportation, and special care. All was worked out after much preparation, and the children arrived on December 26. The Saints were able to share their homes and testimonies with their newly found friends. The Spirit brought all closer together. A local hospital donated its services to help 10 of the children with eye exams. They found that two of the children who were wearing glasses didn’t need them, and others needed stronger lenses. Some had bleeding sores on the bridges of their noses because of the heavy glasses they had been wearing. What a difference the lightweight glasses made.

After the children left, there was a great deal of joy. The members knew that the children would be much better off for the experience. Jekaterina, one of the leaders at the orphanage, said upon their return:

When we have dark days here . . . and I can assure you, at times it feels like we cannot go on, I gather the children around me and we talk about our friends in Sweden. We talk about all you have done for us, and in particular, the joy that radiates when you smile. We believe that joy comes from your faith. Please, give us your smiles. And your faith. [Veronika Ekelund, “From Nauvoo to Russia: The Reach of Relief Society,” in To Rejoice as Women: Talks from the 1994 Women’s Conference [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1994], p. 175]

This ward in Sweden did truly perform a miracle, one that will be remembered by many for years to come. Those members are an example to all of us when it comes to unselfish service and filling others’ spiritual and physical wells.

And I remember hearing in New Zealand many years ago the testimony of a man from the far side of Australia who, having been previously sealed by civil authority and then joined the Church with his wife and children, had traveled all the way across that wide continent, then across the Tasman Sea to Auckland, and down to the temple in the beautiful valley of the Waikato. As I remember his words, he said, “We could not afford to come. Our worldly possessions consisted of an old car, our furniture, and our dishes. I said to my family, ‘We cannot afford to go.’ Then I looked into the faces of my beautiful wife and our beautiful children, and I said, ‘We cannot afford not to go. If the Lord will give me strength, I can work and earn enough for another car and furniture and dishes, but if I should lose these my loved ones, I would be poor indeed in both life and in eternity.’”

As the funeral procession of cars turned onto the small road leading to the cemetery, memories ran through my mind. In my sadness over the untimely death of my father, I sought comfort in the gospel and the scriptures. Ecclesiastes 3:1 came to mind: “To every thing there is a season.”
My family did not attend a church regularly when I was young, but my parents manifested their faith in the Christlike way they helped those in need and in the way they let each of us children know we were loved. My parents had been a part of every season of my life except one, and that season brought great sorrow to them because they did not understand and would not listen to my testimony of what I had found.
When I was 17, some good friends introduced me to the Church. The restored gospel answered questions I had had for years, but my parents would have nothing to do with it. When I joined the Church at 18, only my grandmother attended my baptism. She was not a Latter-day Saint, but she seemed to understand my spiritual need, and she assured me that someday my parents would accept my decision.
I married shortly after my baptism and moved away with my husband. I shared news of my temple sealing a few years later in a letter to my parents, telling them of my joy and newfound faith. But I was unable to interest them in the gospel. Now my father was gone, and my mother and little sister were left alone.
My thoughts were interrupted as the cars came to a stop. Immediately to our left I noticed a monument covered with foliage. An engraving on the stone seemed to beckon us, but we went to the graveside service without inspecting it.
After the service had ended, we expressed our gratitude to friends and relatives and said our good-byes. My husband, mother, and I then walked to the monument. Inscribed on it was a scripture that would change my family forever: “For behold, this is my work and my glory—to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man” (Moses 1:39).
For the first time, 14 years after my baptism and confirmation, my mother asked questions. Because of the restored gospel, I could provide answers. She and my sister were baptized and confirmed shortly thereafter. A little more than a year later, my father’s temple work was completed.
More than 30 years have passed since that day at the cemetery. During that time, members of our extended family have been sealed together in the temple. My mother became a Relief Society president and gave several years of devoted service. My sister married, had children, and served many years as a Laurel leader, president of the Young Women, and worker for LDS Family Services.
To everything there is a season—including a time of joy and a time of sorrow. I am thankful for the knowledge that prayers are answered in God’s own season and that the scriptures offer us words of life as we search, ponder, and share them with one another.

My father also taught me a great lesson about tithing. For many years, we worked together at the same office. We traveled to work together in the car—a father and three sons. It gave us a chance to stay close and talk about the gospel. When we arrived at the office, our father always made certain that each of us began the day by reading the scriptures.
One day as we were traveling home, he surprised us with these words: “My sons, I paid my tithing today. I wrote ‘thank you’ on the tithing check. I am so grateful to the Lord for the blessings he has given to our family.” As sons, we were grateful for a father who not only taught us how to obey, but also that there is great joy in keeping the commandments. Many times while paying my own tithing, I have remembered my father and followed his example by adding the words thank you to the tithing check.

Our seminary class has always exchanged presents at Christmastime. Last year, as usual, we held a meeting to determine how we would go about sharing gifts.
“We could draw names as always,” someone said, “but let’s set a price limit.”
“How about instead of buying a gift, we write a letter?” Amy suggested. “We could secretly watch the person whose name we get, notice his or her good qualities, and then write a letter to the person, telling what we’ve learned.”
After some discussion we all agreed, though most people didn’t appear very enthusiastic—just glad they wouldn’t have to spend any money.
I drew the name of a girl I barely knew. Michelle had been in some of my classes, but I had never taken the time to talk with her. I began to watch her, both in seminary and in our history class.
Michelle was shy, but I noticed she always had a warm smile when she would pass strangers in the hall. I learned that she was intelligent when she gave a marvelous presentation in our history class. I was most impressed, however, when I saw her love for people—when she put her arm around a tearful girl on her way out of seminary, when she befriended a lonely handicapped student. She became a real person to me instead of just another face at school. I began to love her.
The day we were to exchange letters finally arrived. As I stood and read my letter, I found it easy to express my feelings to Michelle. Other students experiences similar reactions.
John said, “I grew closer to Glenn when I attended a performance of a play he was in. I didn’t even know he was an actor until I called his mom to find out more about him. I felt proud to see that someone from our class had the lead in the play. I couldn’t wait to write him a letter telling him how much I admired his acting ability.”
Over the next hour it became obvious that we were no longer concerned with what we would receive, but with being able to make someone else feel good. Angie found that by expressing her love for Patrick, whom she had never gotten along with, she was better able to dispense with grudges and learn to love.
The Christmas gifts our seminary class exchanged that day meant more to me than anything money could buy. Many students’ spirits were lifted, and we felt a closeness that unified our class for the rest of the year.
We learned there is something positive in everyone and that, when we share our love for them, we are giving a true gift.

Here is a quick backstory to, “The White Company.” It was written by the British novelist Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, who is best remembered for creating the famous detective Sherlock Holmes. It is an account of a young orphan named Alleyne whose humble ambition is to someday return to the abbey where he was raised and become a monk. Before doing so, he is required to leave his sheltered upbringing and learn about the outside world.

The scene I wish to match with the mural is an encounter between Alleyne and Lady Maude. She is the young daughter of a famous knight, who has hired Alleyne to be her tutor. However, it is the graceful but outspoken Lady Maude who will be the teacher in this instance.

Lady Maude is teasing Alleyne and challenging his reasons to become a monk. This is not the first time she has provoked him, and he reacts with frustration:

“I am the weakest of the weak,” he [groans]. “I pray that I may have more strength.”

“And to what end?” she ask[s] sharply. “If you are, as I understand, to shut yourself forever in your [room] within the four walls of an abbey, then of what use would it be were your prayer to be answered?”

“The use of my own salvation.” [he replies].

“Your own, you own, ever your own!” “Why…should you, who are soldiers of the Spirit, be ever moping or hiding, …with minds full of your own concerns, while the world, which you should be mending, is going on its way, and neither sees nor hears you?”

At this point, Alleyne can only offer a weak defense:

“There is [truth] in what you say...and yet I scarce can see what you would have [us] to do.”

With “eloquence and conviction” Lady Maude concludes: “I would have them...preaching by their lives rather than their words...I have asked myself if the best which can be done with virtue is to shut it within high walls as though it were some savage creature. If the good will lock themselves up, and if the wicked will still wander free, then alas for the world." [5]

Lady Maude is disappointed with the example of the monks who are absentee “soldiers of the Spirit”. They are caught up in their own projects and interests while neglecting the critical needs of others. There is so much they could do to offer compassion and Godly influence. Alleyne is left to ponder this dilemma and demonstrate his true character. Lady Maude was not mocking Alleyne’s desire to live a life for God. Rather she wanted him to see more clearly God's desires for the life of Alleyne, to live in His service.

As a quick epilogue to the story, I should share that after spending more time with him, Lady Maude grew quite fond of the genuine and kind-hearted Alleyne. But he has gone off to war with her father. As time passes, she fears that he has been killed in battle. Ironically, she decides to turn her back on the world and take shelter from her grief by becoming a nun. She does not know that Alleyne has recovered from grave injuries and has distinguished himself through several noble deeds and rescues. He returns with honor and has been knighted, Sir Alleyne. He has also inherited wealth and property, which makes his conversion from fumbling tutor to brave hero complete. He arrives in time to rescue her at the convent's threshold with a marriage proposal.

Let me be clear this is not a romance novel. It is a serious action and adventure tale that happens to have a happy ending. Alleyne never becomes a monk nor Lady Maude a nun. Nevertheless, they both teach us through their devotion to God, their concern for others, and their hope for the future.

In addition to temples, surely another holy place on earth ought to be our homes. The feelings of holiness in my home prepared me for feelings of holiness in the temple. Before I went on my first mission to Brazil, my mother lovingly hand made a piece of temple clothing for me to wear when I went to the temple. It is now old and frayed, but it is a special, sacred symbol of Mother’s love for that which is holy.

The Scouts and their leaders arrived in the town of Green River on a Monday morning and started building the rafts at a state park where a boat ramp provides easy access to the river. It took a little longer than expected to assemble everything. In fact, launching was delayed until the following morning. But once underway it didn’t take long for the fun to begin.

“It was like a moving summer camp,” said Brother Ivie’s 13-year-old son, Brian. “You didn’t have to worry about getting bored. The scenery was always changing.”

The Green River Canyon is a place where the earth gets down to basics. Rock and water, water and sand, sometimes some red rock to add brightness to the land. The Missouri-wide water twists through curve after wandering curve, past side canyons where Indian petroglyphs and explorer’s signatures are etched in the stone of thousand-foot cliffs reaching to a cloudless blue sky.

“It’s such a big place,” said Adam Pitcher, 13. “A massive river, massive canyons, huge rocks. How could there ever be so much rock in one place? It’s strange to imagine a place so big, but so empty.”

“It’s kind of nice to watch the world’s history book open up as you go down the different layers,” said Brother Ivie’s other son, 14-year-old Richard. “Those rocks must be some of the oldest rocks in the world. It makes you think back to the creation. You look from the beginning back up to the tops of the cliffs.”

And then there was always the water. If you got hot or bored you just jumped in the river.

“My dad, my brother Richard, and I would all go floating at the same time,” said Chris Higbee, 12. “At night, Dad and I would sleep next to each other on the deck and Richard would sleep up on the second level. We’d just lie there and talk to each other. It was neat. I’ll tell my kids about it some day.”

“I couldn’t believe it when I saw my Scoutmaster dive off the second deck,” said Andrew Owens, 12. “I didn’t know he could be crazy like that. But he got right in there and did the same things we did. He likes to have fun, too.”

Jim Oldroyd, 12, told of running across flat places on the bank where silt had accumulated.

“At first it was solid, but then we’d keep running on it and it turned into mud,” he said.

“The mud’s buoyant, so you can’t sink, and it’s a lot warmer than the water, because it’s been out in the sun. A warm mud bath was just the thing to get rid of mosquitoes,” Richard Ivie said. “Of course, when you got out you looked like a chocolate statue.”

Mosquitoes were a constant plague to the adventurers. “They were the worst where there were plants and bushes,” said Scott Hafen, 14. “When we tried to pull in to shore and tie up, they’d mob us. And they’d buzz and bite all night long while we were trying to sleep.”

But despite the whining attacks of buzzbombing mosquitoes, everyone who floated the Green would return home enchanted. They’d tell of visiting Geyser Springs and Anvil Bottom, of renaming Trinity Alcove “Cobra Swamp,” in honor of the shape of a nearby rock formation. They’d brag of their climb up the steep sides of Bowknot Bend, where fast winds snatched some of their hats and tossed them thousands of feet down the canyon. And they’d tell how the river makes a nine-mile elbow to come back within 600 yards of where it started.

Jason Von Zomeren, 16, would remember how he cooled off watermelons by floating them next to him in the river. Scott Hanson, assistant adviser to the teachers quorum in the 27th Ward, would remember demonstrating his black powder rifle, teaching the young men how to load and shoot it. Months later he would still be talking about how the river trip had taught everyone to reach out to others.

“It’s a lot easier to get your boat to shore if there’s someone there to throw a line to,” he said.

Even though the Green River seems to meander, the current at the center is an express lane. At the end of four days, the rafts had traveled 68 miles. It was time for the Friday night campfire, the closing ceremony of the trip.

Each boy’s parents had sent a letter for him to read.

“We read the letters and then just thought for a few minutes. Then we bore our testimonies to each other and said how much we’d grown closer by working together,” said Jeff Barrett, 14. “People don’t always tell you how they feel right at the time, but we all did. You told everybody how you felt.”

He remembered one special incident from the trip:

“When we were coming in the last night, there was a storm and it was blowing. We all tried to row against the current and the wind. Our two leaders, the Scoutmaster and my dad, were wearing themselves out trying to get the boat in. We had to take everything down that would prevent us from getting to shore. If we missed the landing, we’d be gone down river for 70 miles more. So we said a prayer for help. After that, the wind died down for a minute and the rain stopped. We made it in before it started up again.”

The next morning, as tubes were deflated and lashings untied, as rafts became mere piles of poles to be loaded onto trucks, Brother Ivie said the journey down the Green could not have been better.

On 27 June 1854, Rosa Clara had her first baby, a little girl, named Annie Augusta after President Farnham. When little Annie Augusta was fourteen months old, the family sailed from Sydney with a company of Saints on the Julia Ann, bound for California. Disaster struck four weeks later.
On the evening of 3 October 1855, Rosa Clara put her baby to bed while some of the pioneering Church members sang hymns on the deck. Suddenly the vessel struck a coral reef. For a little while, confusion reigned. Then, one of the ship’s crew swam to the reef and managed to fasten a rope. With a sling, the captain prepared to ferry the women and children one at a time to the reef.
No one knew what lay ahead in the pitch-black night. The women were afraid. Finally Rosa Clara, not yet eighteen, volunteered to be the first. Hurriedly, she helped tie baby Ann securely to Charles’s back in a brown woolen shawl and readied herself to be taken to the reef. But then, before Rosa Clara’s horrified eyes, her husband and baby were swept overboard by the huge seas. One of the sailors rescued them unharmed.
With enormous courage, then, in leaving her family on the wreck, Rosa Clara climbed onto the captain’s lap and was pulled, hand over hand, to the reef. Here the captain left her standing barefoot on the sharp coral, chest-deep in the sea, with the surf breaking on the reef. She stayed alone and in darkness while he returned for the other women. Gradually, most of the company, including Charles and baby Ann, arrived safely. But not all were so fortunate. Two little girls were washed off the deck and were lost; two women and a small baby drowned in their cabin.
When daylight arrived, the crew made a raft from timber and nails salvaged from the wreck. They managed to get the passengers from the reef to a small island, which became their home for the next eight weeks.
A barrel of hard biscuits and a chest of tea retrieved from the ship, as well as coconuts, fish, turtle meat, and eggs sustained everyone. They formed coconut shells into drinking vessels. With a large silk skirt also salvaged from the wreck, Charles Loge fashioned a tent for Rosa Clara, who was ill, and baby Ann crawled around playing happily in the sand. After repairing the ship’s boat, some of the crew rowed more than 300 kilometers to the Society islands (Tahiti) for help.
The Loge family and others were taken off the island two months after the wreck, finally arriving in San Francisco. There, Elder George Q. Cannon presented Rosa Clara with a small pewter teapot in recognition of her bravery in being the first to go to the reef. The teapot is a treasured family heirloom today, together with a carved coconut-shell drinking vessel and a handmade nail from the Julia Ann.

Many people, though, are unsure of how to judge their own spiritual impressions. Recently, a friend reached out to me wanting to know whether I thought she should speak out about something that had been bothering her. She happened to contact me as I was writing this talk, so I asked her whether she had sought the Spirit to know what to do. She said that she had tried but that she sometimes felt confused as to whether her inspiration came from God or herself. I wondered whether my friend and God might work more seamlessly together rather than in opposition, so I asked her instead about her spiritual gifts. What are they? And might they serve as conduits for her to receive inspiration? She shared three of her gifts: discernment, love, and forgiveness. I replied that perhaps these beautiful gifts directed her not to the question of whether she should speak but how—that perhaps addressing the situation that was bothering her in a discerning, loving, and forgiving way would allow the Spirit to communicate with and also through her. This small suggestion that she trust her own spiritual gifts seemed to open in her a channel of inspiration and increase her spiritual confidence.

Tara was seven years old when her father moved out. She and her brother grew up with their mother. Staying active in the Church, she says, has brought tremendous blessings to her family.
Home teachers have given priesthood blessings and made special efforts to help around the house. One Church member even finished a bedroom in the basement for Tara’s family.
But the greatest blessing has been Tara’s spiritual growth. Through daily prayer, she has regained peace of mind. “I do have a testimony of the gospel. I know for a fact that I have a Heavenly Father who cares about me and answers my prayers,” she said.

Let me illustrate with an experience the Europe Central Area Presidency had while traveling by train to a meeting. We were taking advantage of the time together by discussing our assignment. A man seated across the aisle became curious about our conversation. He finally asked, “Are you Protestant or Catholic?” We replied, “Neither. We are members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” He acknowledged that he had heard of the Church but then went on to say, “You’ll never get very far in this country. The government only recognizes the Catholic and Protestant churches. They are the only ones who receive government financial support. A church cannot exist without government financial support.”

We tried to explain that our Church manages very well without government help—that we use the Lord’s system of tithing. He insisted our Church would not get very far in his country and suggested that perhaps we should place our efforts in some other part of the world. Of course we testified that the Lord’s system does work and told him about all the chapels and temples we are constructing throughout the world without having to resort to borrowed funds to build them. He seemed very surprised but still unconvinced.

Seeing that we could not persuade him that a church could exist without government support, we tried to change the subject. I asked, “What will happen in your country with the changes that are occurring? The declining population and the influx of an increasing number of immigrants will eventually make you a minority in your own land.”

With great national pride, he replied, “This will never happen.”

I countered, “How can you support such a position with immigration exceeding your country’s birthrate?” He kept insisting this would never happen in his country—“Why, they would close the borders of our land before they would allow it to occur.”

I pressed on, “How can you prevent it with your current trends?”

His next statement shocked me: “I’m 82 years old. I will be long gone before we have to face that problem.”

A major problem we face in preaching the gospel in this area of the world is the general apathy toward religion, toward things spiritual. Too many are very comfortable with their present lifestyle and feel no need to do more than “eat, drink, and be merry” (Luke 12:19). They are not interested in anything but themselves—here and now.

A friend of mine related the following experience. His father and his father’s cousin lived in the same community and were competitors in the construction business. A bitter rivalry, started in the beginning by some contract bidding, grew up over the years and was eventually inherited by the immediate families, even after the death of my friend’s father. It was difficult for them to be civil to one another, even in their church callings, where my friend was the bishop of one ward and his cousin in another. The situation became worse.
Suddenly my friend found himself with a call to serve as a mission president. He and his family were thrilled with the prospect, but he had an uneasy feeling. He kept asking himself if he were really worthy for such an important call. He knew he was living the Word of Wisdom, was a full tithepayer, faithful in his Church activities, was morally clean, and so forth, but the uneasy feeling persisted. …
In the midst of his preparations he was returning from his office one afternoon when something said to him, “You must go to your father’s cousin and correct this situation that exists between you. You cannot go out to teach the gospel of love while this feeling exists between you.”
So he went to his cousin’s home, rang the doorbell, and waited fearfully, but there was no response. He turned away feeling that at least he had tried and that this attempt would conclude the matter. But the uneasy feeling did not go away.
The next day at a funeral service his cousin came in and sat across from him. He asked his cousin if he could talk to him after the service. I quote from my friend’s account:
“When I rang the doorbell he invited me into the living room and congratulated me on my mission call. We talked a few minutes about unimportant things and then it happened. I looked at him with a feeling of love which replaced all the old bitterness, and said: ‘I have come to ask forgiveness for anything I have ever said or done that has tended to divide us and our families.’
“At this point tears came into our eyes, and for a few minutes neither of us could say a word. This was one time when silence was more powerful than words. In a few minutes he said: ‘I wish I had come to you first.’ I replied, ‘The important thing is that it is done, not who initiated it.’
“At this moment we had a rich spiritual experience which caused us to purge our lives and our souls of those things which had separated us. That experience has resulted in our having proper family relationships. Now I could go on my mission and teach the true meaning of love because for the first time in my life I had experienced its deepest dimension. Now I could honestly say that there wasn’t a person in the world that I didn’t love and appreciate. Since that day my life has never been the same, for it was then that I learned in a most positive way, as I had never understood before, this injunction of the Master to his disciples: ‘A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another’” (John 13:34).

Bye, Molly! We love you!
Be a good helper for Grandma!
I miss Mom and Dad. When will they get home from the hospital?
After your sister is born. Then you’ll get to meet her!
I don’t know if I really want a sister.
Hey, I need your help with a special surprise.
Let’s make a treat for your parents. What should we make?
Brownies are Mom’s favorite!
Wow, you are a good assistant chef! You know something else your family needs help with?
Eating brownies?
Probably! But you can also help by being a kind big sister.
Really?
Yes! I can tell you know how to help your family.
I have an idea for another surprise.
I can’t wait until Mom and Dad AND the baby come home!

One warm, sunny afternoon, Nathan and Angie decided to go into the field and chase Gard’s sheep. At the time they thought it was great fun, but they soon changed their minds after Dad had a serious talk with them. Nathan and Angie felt very sorry about being unkind to Gard’s sheep. They humbly went to Gard and apologized. He was kind and understanding, and thanked them for their honesty and courage to make it right with him. From that day on, Nathan and Angie became assistant shepherds and did all that they could to help Gard take care of his sheep.

It was on Monday, December 20, 1852, when the first large company of 294 Saints left Copenhagen, Denmark. They boarded the ship Obotrit and sailed from the customhouse under the direction of Elder John E. Forsgren. A great many Danish people gathered at the dock as the ship left. The atmosphere was filled with hate because fellow countrymen were disgracing themselves by following a “Swedish Mormon priest” and departing for America.

The journey to Kiel, Holstein (now part of Germany), was stormy and unpleasant, but the ship arrived safely on December 22, 1852. The journey continued by rail to Hamburg. On December 24 the Saints boarded the steamship Lion, which proceeded down the River Elbe. Because of fog, the ship’s captain cast anchor and they celebrated Christmas Eve aboard ship.

On Christmas morning the ship sailed to the mouth of the river. Because of heavy headwinds the ship didn’t reach the open sea until midnight. A terrible storm ensued as the ship sailed the North Sea. The ship’s bridge was damaged, but the emigrants were not injured. On the evening of December 28 the ship steamed into the harbor of Hull, England. It was learned that about 150 vessels had been lost on the North Sea during the storm.

The Saints continued their journey by rail to Liverpool on December 29. On December 31 they boarded the packet ship Forest Monarch. Storms prevented the ship leaving port for about two weeks. One night the ship became entangled with another vessel and sustained some damage. A few days later, because of a storm, the anchors were pulled and the ship was set adrift. Two tugboats came to the rescue just before it ran aground.

Finally, on January 16, 1853, the Forest Monarch began its voyage to America. There were 297 souls onboard ship. Although very pleasant weather accompanied the voyage across the Atlantic Ocean, a perfect calm hindered the journey for several days. Also, provisions were poor and the supply of fresh water ran out.

After arriving in America at the mouth of the Mississippi River, the Saints took a steamboat from New Orleans to Saint Louis. After about a month in Saint Louis, where commodities were purchased, they traveled to Keokuk, Iowa, by steamboat. There they spent several weeks receiving their wagons and teams of oxen. They left Keokuk on May 21 and finally arrived in the Salt Lake Valley on September 30, 1853. As many as 20 emigrants had died during the journey, some children were born, and a few had lost their faith amid all the hardships.

Robert Keddington worked in emergency medicine in Utah and retired several years ago. In 2020 he got a call from a senior Church leader in Salt Lake City asking him if had ever thought about serving a medical mission.
“My wife, Sue, and I prayed sincerely to know if this was something we should do and got a lovely answer from our Father in Heaven that we should go.”
“I wasn’t too sure about getting back into practice after being away for so long,” Dr. Keddington says. “I was also concerned about seeing patients with conditions related to the tropics, something I had never seen in my practice in Utah. But before I left, my local church leader gave me a blessing and told me that I would be blessed with recall to help the people here. I found again and again that as I was examining a patient, I could recall something I learned in medical school more than 40 years ago that was just what this patient needed. Truly a blessing from the Lord.”
In July 2022, the Keddingtons completed two years of service in Pago Pago. They loved every minute of their time there.
In his final remarks, Dr. Keddington said, “I have seen the hand of the Lord in my service to the people here,” he says.
“It’s been a humbling, gratifying experience.”

Two such faithful members, James Ewudzie and Frederick Antwi, assisted me one day in the Accra Ghana Temple. Several years before Latter-day Saint missionaries arrived in Ghana, James had been part of a group of about 1,000 people who used the Book of Mormon and other Church materials in their church services. They prayed for the day that the Church would come to Ghana. He joined with other young men traveling around Ghana and teaching the gospel as found in our materials. Once missionaries arrived in 1978, he was baptized on the first day that Latter-day Saint baptisms were performed in Ghana.

Fred Antwi, a pioneer member of the Church in Ghana

Early in Fred’s time as a member, he attended the funeral of a relative who was a tribal chief. There he found out that the family plan was to make him the new chief. Knowing that such a position would cause him to do things contrary to his gospel beliefs, he sped away after the burial and turned his back on a position that would have brought him prominence and wealth.

Once the Accra Temple was dedicated, both James and Fred traveled over four hours, one way, every week so that they could be temple workers. As I performed ordinances with them, I was overcome with the sense of history that surrounded me. Realizing the Church history in Africa that the two of them represented, I felt like it was akin to having John Taylor or Wilford Woodruff or other early members of the Church with me doing those ordinances.