Gospel Story Finder

The scriptures can also be a source of comfort in times of trial. Hazel Hunt’s husband, Bill, died shortly after he received a blessing that he would be healed if he and Hazel had faith. After his death, Hazel worried that she hadn’t had enough faith.
“Please tell me why my husband was taken,” she asked her home teacher. He turned to Doctrine and Covenants 42:48: “He that hath faith in me to be healed, and is not appointed unto death, shall be healed.”
“There was the answer to my question,” Hazel says. “I could accept Bill’s appointed time to return to his Heavenly Father.”

I’ve spent quite a bit of time as a visitor at the Utah State Prison. Some of the best friends I have ever made were made there. I like to go there because every time I go, I learn something. I learn about personal pride. I learn something about performance. I learn something about people.
One day, when I was talking with the warden at the prison, I asked, “How many prisoners do you have here in the prison who might be classified as ‘impossible’?” I knew that the prison was over-crowded—over 800 prisoners in buildings large enough for only 600, and I knew also that there were a lot of prisoners who presented problems for the prison officials. I remember one day being in the prison yard with some of them and seeing a tattoo across the chest of one man that said “A Born Loser,” and he was out to prove it. So I was impressed when the warden said that, of all the prisoners at the Utah State Prison, there was only one whom he would classify as being really impossible or unreformable.
I asked him to tell me about the man. He said that that prisoner has to remain in his cell 23 hours and 40 minutes every day. He cannot be with anyone else. He isn’t insane; he’s just hardened. “We can’t give him any freedom,” the warden told me. “His meals are served in his cell through iron bars. He has toilet facilities and a bed, and that is where he stays all but about 20 minutes of the day, when he is taken out for a shower. The last time he was allowed to be with other prisoners he put a knife through another prisoner. He would do the same again if he were allowed any freedom.”
No personal pride. No worthy performance. No patience. The only thing he is accomplishing in his life is being number one—number one in impossibility.

My stake was excited that the Palmyra New York Temple dedication was going to be broadcast at our stake center. The members seemed abuzz with anticipation. I was looking forward to it too, but for some reason I kept procrastinating getting my ticket.
Finally, on the day of the dedication, I talked to one of the counselors in the bishopric to get my ticket. He handed me a ticket, and without looking at it, I put it in my purse. During sacrament meeting, announcements were made about the dedication, but I tuned them out because I already had my ticket.
I went home that day and got lost in other activities. About 15 minutes before the dedication was to begin, I decided I should probably leave. I felt prepared as I put my white handkerchief in my purse and even double-checked to make sure my ticket was still there.
My family had left earlier to get good seats, warning me that I should come soon. I had planned to drive with them but hadn’t been ready, so I decided to go separately.
As I pulled into the church parking lot, I was surprised at how full it was. It was packed with cars, but there wasn’t a person in sight. At first I feared I was late, but I looked at my watch and I had five minutes before the dedication was to start.
I walked up the steps to the church and tried the door. It was locked. I was puzzled but remembered hearing somewhere that they were letting people in only through certain doors. I wasn’t sure which doors, so I decided to try them all. I went around the church, pulling at the doors, rattling them slightly, trying in frustration to open them.
As I approached the last set of doors, I felt my heart quicken. I tried the door, but it too was locked. I peered into the lobby, which was empty. The doors to the chapel were closed. I realized sadly that everyone was already inside, and I was alone outside—looking in.
As I walked dejectedly back to the car, I decided to double-check the time of the dedication. I fished through my purse until I found the ticket and saw that I had the time right. Anger ran through me at being locked out. Why wasn’t I able to go inside? I was missing this historic event!
I turned over the ticket and was surprised to see writing on the back. I read it with curiosity. Clearly printed was the instruction to be seated 30 minutes before the dedication started.
Why hadn’t I seen that before? I had never read the back of my ticket. I had placed it in my purse as soon as I received it. I hadn’t prepared in one of the simplest ways possible. As I sat in the car, too sad to move, I realized I was like one of the five foolish virgins in the parable of the ten virgins. I was left outside the wedding ceremony with a lamp that was out of oil, while the others were inside with the bridegroom.
Whenever I had read that story in Matthew 25, I wondered how the five women had been so foolish. I always thought that purchasing enough oil was such a simple thing to do. I knew the oil and lamps represented our testimonies and the Holy Spirit’s guidance (see D&C 45:57). I had thought I was prepared to attend the temple dedication, yet I wasn’t inside listening to the prophet.
Alone in the parking lot, I realized that having a ticket wasn’t enough. We have more to do than simply be present on the day Christ comes. We need to be prepared in every way, constantly filling our lamps, not just thinking we have enough oil.
As I drove back home, tears stung my eyes. It hurt to be alone, knowing that family and friends were inside being uplifted and I wasn’t able to go in with them. I promised myself that from then on I would do all I could to be prepared with plenty of oil. I want to be part of the joyful wedding party instead of being one of the unprepared locked outside.

Each summer, Henrik and his family take a vacation and visit their mormor (grandmother) who lives in Ålesund, on the west coast of Norway. Here the country looks very different from the rolling hills and farmlands near Lillestrøm. This coastal area of Norway has towering cliffs and deep fjords (narrow inlets of the sea). “One of our favorite things to do while we are there is to catch crabs at the seacoast,” says Henrik. “We like to go to two special places where the water is very cold and clear. We look under the stones and find the crabs, but then we let them go!” (Henrik’s dad says that the same crabs have probably been caught at least 10 times each summer!)

As a child in Virginia, Kevin took an immediate interest in piano. “Before I studied piano I’d go up to the piano and fool around on it, just make some noise,” he said. When Kevin was five, his nine-year-old sister started lessons, and he decided to follow her example. “My mother thought I’d grow tired of it, sitting on the hard bench for a couple of hours. But I didn’t. And that’s when they discovered I had some talent and should continue. My parents have always encouraged me but never forced me. Sometimes when you’re very young your parents have to give you a little push, because you haven’t developed a lot of self-discipline. You really want to practice, but other things seem more important at the moment. Parents can look ahead for you and help you see the road you want to take.”
When Kevin was 10, his family moved back home to California. “By the time I was 12, I had no question I wanted to continue,” he said. “But at 13, I almost stopped when my teacher left on a concert tour and we had to find someone new.” Kevin finally became a student of Krzysztof Brzuza in San Diego and has attended the San Francisco Conservatory. He has also studied under Leon Fleischer at the Peabody Conservatory in Baltimore, Maryland, the oldest conservatory in the U.S.

Here I was, 18 years old, approaching graduation from Troy High School, just another boy from a southern California city who loved to have fun without damaging my physical body or dusting up my mind and soul. Little did I know I was about to make one of the hardest decisions I would ever face.
I was a high school senior. The time was approaching when I would be the right age to serve a full-time mission, and the prophet had said all worthy young men should serve. I knew that. But for some reason I wondered about when I should go.
It wasn’t much later that I was sitting in an interview.
“What are your feelings about accepting a mission call?” the bishop said.
I looked down at the patterned floor and replied, “I think I’d like to go.”
His mouth formed a smile as he opened his calendar. “Well, let’s see. You turn 19 in September, so if we filled out your papers three months before, then it …”
Before he could finish, I jumped in.
“Bishop, I don’t know when I want to leave. Yes, I turn 19 in September. But I guess I need some time to think it over.” I felt myself get tense as I sank deeper into my chair. I didn’t know what to say. Maybe I just needed time to ponder and pray.
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to support you,” he concluded, as he walked me to the door. “I’m behind you 100 percent of the way,” he added.
Wandering back to the car, I began to realize how important my serving a mission was to my Heavenly Father. I also thought how important my example could be for my family. I was the second oldest of six children, and I felt I had to set an example for the four younger ones. But most of all, I thought about how accepting the call was the right thing to do, that I should listen and obey.
As I drove home, however, I felt a strong impression that when I should go was very important.
The next few weeks were incredibly spiritual for me as I pondered and prayed about my decision of when I’d leave. Praying for guidance from my Heavenly Father was not easy. I had never been one to rely so greatly on prayer. But I knew that through prayer, if I had faith, he would answer me.
After weeks of patience and prayer, I could feel the influence of my Heavenly Father’s spirit wrap around me. I began to feel that in January of 1996 I would be available to be called into the mission field.
I had never felt such a feeling of comfort and joy as I did that day. There was no doubt in my mind that when January rolled around I would be ready and willing to go. And I knew that within the next seven months I would have to work hard and prepare myself to serve an uplifting, spiritual mission.
Four months before I was to leave, my older brother, David, was in an accident that left him in a coma. A few days later he died.
The spirit that filled our house that day was something I had never felt before. It was as if our home was floating on heaven. Although I missed my brother terribly, I knew that was why I had wondered about when I should serve. His death brought my family closer together, and I will cherish for all eternity those few months I had with my family before I left for the mission field.
Now I’m teaching people about the true gospel of Jesus Christ, and I know that serving a mission is one of the most important things I could ever experience.
And to know that my Heavenly Father actually cared enough to answer my prayer about when I should leave made me feel like someone special. It gave me something to hold on to and helped my faith in him increase. My Heavenly Father knew exactly what was going on. I could see his footsteps beside me every step of the way.
Editor’s Note: Elder Goodman served a mission in the Colorado Denver North Mission. He was released in January of this year.

But falsehoods about the Saints continued to spread. Joseph did his best to combat the mounting prejudice until October 1838, when he and other Church leaders were betrayed at Far West, Missouri, into the hands of government officials.
Joseph and his brethren were eventually tried at Richmond, Missouri, then imprisoned in Liberty Jail for four months. Finally, early in April 1839, Joseph was taken to Gallatin for another trial. A fellow prisoner, Alexander McRae, wrote that during one adjournment of the court, Joseph made a gesture of friendship toward the guards.
“From that time until we got away,” McRae’s account continues, “they could not put a guard over us who would not become so friendly that they dare not trust them, and the guard was very frequently changed. We were seated at the first table with the judge, lawyers, etc., and had the best the country afforded, with feather beds to sleep on—a privilege we had not before enjoyed in all our imprisonment.”6
Peter H. Burnett, a legal counselor for the prisoners, wrote: ‘[Joseph] had great influence over others. … Just before I left to return to Liberty, I saw him out among the crowd, conversing freely with every one, and seeming to be perfectly at ease. In the short space of five days he had managed so to mollify his enemies that he could go unprotected among them without the slightest danger.”7
After the legal proceedings at Gallatin, the lawmen (who apparently believed in the innocence of the prisoners) gave Joseph and his companions the opportunity to escape. They seized the chance and crossed the state border into Illinois.8

Little did we know, another miracle was in store for us.
When Kahn turned 4, we holidayed in our homeland of Samoa, where we reconnected with Kahn’s birth family. They welcomed us with open arms, and Kahn’s birth grandmother wept when she recognised him. “Your son is gorgeous,” she said. “He’s so active, and he looks like he enjoys his food, too.”
It was an emotional reunion. They thanked us for loving and nurturing Kahn—and then they asked if we had room in our lives for another child.
My husband and I were astonished.
We discovered that Kahn’s birth mother had another baby. Naree Alalafaga was 5 months old at the time and, again, her family wanted more for this child than they were able to offer.
My mother’s words echoed softly in my mind: you reap what you sow.
It wasn’t by chance we met our miracle daughter this way. The Lord knows our deepest desires, and what is best for us. So, when our reunion with Kahn’s birth family brought a precious addition—his baby sister—to our home, it just felt right.

The night before the martyrdom of Joseph and Hyrum Smith, their friends in the Carthage Jail with them heard Hyrum read from the Book of Mormon and Joseph bear testimony of its divinity to the prison guards.
There was only one bed in the room, and the prisoners took turns resting on it or stretching out on dirty mattresses on the floor. After the others were all asleep, there came the sound of a gun discharging in the courtyard below. The Prophet, who lay beside Dan Jones on the floor, turned to him and asked, “Are you afraid to die?”
“Has that time come, think you?” asked Dan. He paused only a moment and then said, “Engaged in such a cause, I do not think death would have many terrors.”
“Before you die, you will yet see Wales and fill the mission appointed you,” the Prophet promised.
And that is exactly what Dan Jones did!
The next morning he was sent to take a note from Joseph Smith to the governor. Upon his return, Dan was not permitted to enter the jail. He tried to force his way inside to be with the Prophet but was prevented from doing so and thus escaped probable death. The next year he left for a mission in the British Isles and was assigned to Wales. He met with such success there, converting thousands, that he is often called the “Father of the Welsh Mission.” A company of 250 Welsh Saints immigrated to Utah in 1849 under his direction.

Two years later the Prophet came out of Liberty Jail and planned a winter trip to Washington, D.C. to seek federal help for the Latter-day Saints who had lost their homes and property in Missouri. Not far from the nation’s capital, the stagecoach team ran uncontrolled downhill without a driver for three miles. Joseph decisively assured the other passengers, then carefully opened the door of the careening coach, pulled himself up over the side to the driver’s seat, where he “got the lines, and stopped the horses, and also saved the life of a lady and child” (History of the Church, 4:23, 42). An anonymous letter of appreciation appeared in a Philadelphia paper at the time, with full confirmation of the above events.

This is how I felt for a long time. When I was younger, I loved everything about Christmas, from wearing silly leggings and ugly sweaters to celebrating the birth of the Savior and sharing my testimony in every hymn I sang in church.
As I got older, though, Christmastime lost some of its inherent joy for me. I found myself having to put more and more effort into choosing to be joyful during that time of the year.
I used to wonder why, if I was worshipping the Savior and celebrating His birth, I had to try so hard to experience the joy that used to come so naturally to me. I asked myself: Have I ever celebrated Christmas for the right reasons, or has my joy always been tied to worldly things?
Then one year, as I awaited another Christmas, I strengthened my relationship with Christ, and it completely changed my perspective.
As Christmas approached, I was invited to ask Heavenly Father how He felt about me, with a promise that He would respond with love.
Well, I had never struggled to believe that Heavenly Father loved me. But I did struggle to believe that Jesus Christ loved me; I worried that after all He had sacrificed for me, I wasn’t good enough to deserve His love.
I decided to ask Heavenly Father to tell me how Jesus felt about me instead. Though I thought I already knew the answer, I wanted to believe I was loved in spite of my flaws.
I received my answer on Christmas Eve.
My mom and I went to a neighbor’s house to deliver cookies. These neighbors always make us feel welcomed, loved, and listened to. They are the kind of people who make everyone around them feel important, seen, and loved.
As I spent time with them, it hit me: these people are Christlike.
While on the earth, Jesus Christ treated everyone around him like they were everything to Him. Because He loves each of us perfectly.
In that moment, I realized that of course Jesus Christ loved me. He was willing to sacrifice so much because He saw me and everyone else as worth living, suffering, dying, and being resurrected for.
Knowing that Jesus Christ truly does love me changed the way I celebrate Christmas. I know now that the joy of Christmastime comes from not just His birth but the joy and gratitude I feel for my Savior, Jesus Christ, who atoned for my sins. It is in Him that I will be able to find the best and most lasting joy.

When President Henry B. Eyring, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, studied physics and mathematics in college, he felt overwhelmed. His discouragement led him to stop studying and to think about quitting school.

But one night, he recounted that “help came as a voice, an actual voice in my mind. It was not my voice. It was a soft and loving voice—but firm. The words voiced were these: ‘When you realize who you really are, you will be sorry that you didn’t try harder.’”1

This insight led President Eyring to finish college, pursue graduate school, and later become a teacher. We may be content with where we are in our education or career, but God can see a potential in us that even we can’t always see. We lose nothing and gain everything by engaging in lifelong learning.

Joseph and Hyrum Smith’s martyrdom shocked every Latter-day Saint, including the youth of the Church.
One hundred and fifty years ago this month on June 27, 1844, Joseph and Hyrum Smith were murdered by a mob of angry men. The events of that tragic afternoon at Carthage, Illinois, have usually been seen through the eyes of adults. Yet there were many young men and women who knew the Prophet and the patriarch and who felt great grief at their passing. While we don’t have a great deal of information about young people who were affected by the deaths of their leaders, a few records do give us a view of the martyrdom through teenage eyes.
Fifteen-year-old Mary Ann Phelps told of being asked to help the Prophet. “When [Joseph] found he had to go to Carthage [to meet with Thomas Ford, governor of Illinois], he wanted a man by the name of Rosecrantz, who was well acquainted with the governor, to go with him.”
At the time, Mr. Rosecrantz’s wife was ill. The Prophet thought that if someone could be found to take care of her, Mr. Rosecrantz would be more likely to make the trip. He asked Mary to stay with Mrs. Rosecrantz.
“I went to stay with Mrs. Rosecrantz,” Mary recalled. “As [the Prophet and Hyrum] were going, they called at the gate with their company of about twenty men, and Joseph Smith asked me if I would bring them out a drink of water.” Mary took them a glass and a pitcher. Joseph leaned over and said to her, “Lord bless you.”1
Another young person, William Hamilton, met Joseph and Hyrum when, on their first night in Carthage, they stayed at his father’s inn. They arrived at the Hamilton House hotel five minutes before midnight on June 24. Early the next morning, the Smith brothers voluntarily surrendered to a constable. After a court hearing during the day, they met with Governor Ford. During the interview a justice of the peace appeared with a paper from a judge authorizing the jailing of Joseph and Hyrum Smith until they could be tried for treason—which was a change from the original charge of rioting.
Despite protests from their attorneys, Joseph and Hyrum were hurried off to Carthage jail, only a few blocks away. Several friends and associates were allowed to stay with the Prophet and the patriarch that evening. On the next day, June 26, the treason hearing was held. No witnesses appeared, so Joseph and Hyrum were required to stay in jail until another hearing could be held, this one scheduled for June 29. But the conspiracy to murder the Prophet and his brother was already in motion.
On June 27, 1844, William stood as lookout on the roof of the county courthouse. It was hot and humid. Sometime near five o’clock, William noticed a group of about 100 men with blackened faces going toward the jail. He hurried to report the movement, but it was already too late. The soldiers assigned to protect the prisoners were outnumbered by the mob. They stormed the jail, rushed up the stairs, and fired shot after shot after shot. Then a yell that the Mormons were coming caught everyone’s attention, and the mob fled.
William went into the jail, where he saw the body of Hyrum Smith. Outside the jail, the Prophet Joseph also lay dead in a pool of blood. John Taylor was severely wounded. Willard Richards was only grazed on his ear by a bullet.2
Fourteen-year-old Eliza Clayton also entered the jail. The doors were still open. She said it looked “as though the people had left in great haste.” When she went upstairs, she saw “some Church books on the table and the portraits of Joseph’s and Hyrum’s families on the fireplace mantel.” But when she saw the “blood in pools on the floor and spattered on the walls,” Eliza started to cry.3
Fifteen-year-old Henry Sanderson was one of the first in Nauvoo to hear the tragic news, “when a runner went past our house shouting that the Prophet was killed.” Henry recalled how “sad a blow” it was to him and his family.4
The news spread quickly. At Hyrum’s home on Water Street, not far from Joseph and Emma’s home, George D. Grant knocked at the door and delivered the sad tale to the family.
“The news flew like wild-fire through the house, and the anguish and sorrow … can be easier felt than described. But that will never be forgotten by those who were called to go through it,” recalled Mary Ann Smith, one of Hyrum’s children.5
On the morning of June 28, the bodies of Joseph and Hyrum were gently placed on two different wagons, covered with branches to shade them from the hot summer sun. William Hamilton and his father Artois accompanied Samuel Smith and Willard Richards to Nauvoo with the bodies of the slain Church leaders.
They left Carthage about 8:00 A.M. and arrived in Nauvoo about 3:00 P.M., where they were met by a great assemblage. When the bodies were returned to Nauvoo, they were washed and dressed. Then family and friends were ushered in to see them.
When young Joseph Smith III entered the room, he dropped upon his knees, laid his cheek against his father’s, and kissed him. He was heard saying, “Oh, my father, my father!” Other children of the Prophet and the patriarch crowded around to see their slain fathers. It was an almost unbearable scene.6
On the following day, June 29, the bodies lay in state in the Mansion House while thousands of Saints silently filed past the coffins, grateful but sobered to see their beloved leaders one last time. Mary Ann Phelps’s father took her to the Mansion House early in the morning, before the bodies were prepared for the public viewing.
“I went down, saw them, and laid my hand on Joseph’s forehead,” she said. “The sheet that was around him was stained with blood. Still he looked very natural.”7
Slowly, life in Nauvoo got back to normal. Missionaries left to serve missions; new converts arrived. Work continued on homes, shops, and most importantly, the temple. Young people fell in love and were married. Parties and sporting contests were held.
Yet the memory of Joseph and Hyrum did not fade. For example, one young woman made a sampler, a common activity at the time. She embroidered:
“Sacred to the Memory of Joseph and Hyrum Smith, Who fell as Martyrs for the Gospel of Jesus Christ, June 27th, 1844. Aged 38, and 44, years.
“Zion’s noblest sons are weeping,
See her daughters bathed in tears,
Where the prophets now are sleeping,
Nature’s sleep—sleep of years.
When the earth shall be restored,
They will come with Christ the Lord.”
She signed it: “Mary Ann Broomhead’s work, 1844, Age 13 years.”8
Following a short period of peace, dark clouds cast their long shadow on Nauvoo again. Eventually the Saints were driven out, leaving their beautiful temple and the graves of their Prophet and his brother behind. Yet these young people who lived in the days of Joseph and Hyrum remembered them throughout their lives. They passed on their personal stories and experiences to a new generation. By doing so they kept alive their own faith and the testimony of two great witnesses of the Restoration.

I was eight years old when my parents divorced. I remember the day my dad moved out. It seemed like everything I knew about life fell to pieces after that. I was confused, lonely, and sad. It felt like a big part of me had been ripped out. While the other members of my family seemed to move past the divorce, I still felt empty inside.
Being so young, I couldn’t understand why my family had to be broken up. I came to believe that I must have been deficient. I figured I wasn’t worthy of an intact family. I thought that if I had had enough faith, God would have put my family back together.
As I got older, the hole inside me became a deep pit of sadness. I tried to fill it with all sorts of things: relationships, school, rebellion, even too much food. None of those things worked. I had read the scripture where the Apostle Paul tells a man who has been healed that “Jesus Christ maketh thee whole” (Acts 9:34). But I doubted that Christ could fill the hole inside me. After all, if I was not worthy enough for Him to fix my family, why should I expect Him to fix the hole in me? I thought those types of miracles were only for happy, faithful people who came from intact families.
Still, I had nowhere left to turn except to Christ. Night after night I knelt in prayer and asked my Heavenly Father, in the name of Jesus Christ, to heal my emptiness.
I cannot point to an exact day when it happened, but little by little Heavenly Father intervened in my life to show me that Christ’s love was healing me. Heavenly Father also let me know He loves me, He knows me, and He wants me to have an eternal family.
I know, unmistakably now, that my Savior was aware of my pain and sadness. He never gave up on me. I can see now that He strengthened me and carried me through those difficult times. Christ is the only one who can heal our pain. It was Christ who healed my heart.

Second, prior to the creation of the Toronto Ontario Stake in 1960, Elder ElRay L. Christiansen, then an Assistant to the Council of the Twelve, recounted for the benefit of priesthood leaders a lesson from his own life when he was called to preside over the East Cache Stake in Logan, Utah. He mentioned that he and his counselors met to discuss what the stake members most needed and which principles of the gospel the stake presidency should stress. Their opinions varied from sacrament meeting attendance to observance of the Sabbath day, with a lot of territory in between. At length they agreed that the principle most needed was spirituality. They appreciated the truth found in the observation: When one deals in generalities, he will rarely have a success; but when he deals in specifics, he will rarely have a failure.
The four-year plan of President Christiansen and his counselors was refined in a splendid fashion. Year one: We shall increase the spirituality of the membership of the East Cache Stake by every family having family prayer. Year two: We shall increase the spirituality of the membership of the East Cache Stake by every member attending sacrament meeting weekly. Year three: We shall increase the spirituality of the membership of the East Cache Stake by each member paying an honest tithing. Year four: We shall increase the spirituality of the membership of the East Cache Stake by each member honoring the Sabbath day and keeping it holy. Each was the theme for the entire year; emphasis was given constantly.
After the four-year program was concluded, all four of the specific objectives had been attained, but of even greater significance, the spirituality of the membership of the East Cache Stake had shown marked improvement.

The day that changed everything for the Quashigah family was the day that Vincent attended a funeral in Kpong for a relative. The funeral was held at The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Vincent was not familiar with the Church and did not recognize it as the same church that Esinam’s Book of Mormon had come from. However, he was deeply impressed with the dignity, peace, and simplicity of the funeral service, and he promised himself that he would find out more.
The following week he searched online for anything he could learn about the Church. His search was directed by the Spirit, and he felt a peaceful satisfaction as he learned exciting teachings and principles. He felt the Spirit bear witness to him of these things, found the location of the nearest chapel, and attended church meetings the first Sunday following the funeral. After asking for membership, he met with the full-time missionaries (Elders Tameklo and Ntambwe) and was baptized three weeks later. His family attended the baptism and Sabbath meetings the following day.
Brother Quashigah subsequently received the priesthood and was able to baptize Sister Quashigah and the eligible children after they had met with the missionaries. Sister Quashigah is quick to point out, with a smile, that the family became members of the same church that she attempted to introduce to them when she was given that first Book of Mormon several months earlier.

Finding and following Jesus Christ sometimes takes us through difficult waters. Tamton’s journey to Christ has been like that. “I was serving as a deacon in the Protestant church when the missionaries first came to Abaiang from Tarawa,” he says. “Their coming was strongly opposed, and they had difficulty getting land on which to build a bata [traditional grass house]. I felt sorry for them and invited them to stay with me. They taught me the gospel, and I felt what they were teaching was true. So I was baptized.”
That was in 1984. Tamton and Taake were among the first on Abaiang to join the Church. Amid suspicion and persecution, they immediately began helping the missionaries find others to teach.
Tamton and Taake feel they have been richly blessed by the Lord. Several years ago, Tamton wanted to build a large fish trap to support his family. But to build one, he needed to take thousands of rocks out into the ocean. The task seemed impossible. He had only a small canoe and just his sons to help.
“I prayed hard about the problem,” he says. “The next day I saw a float [a tangle of debris] beached on my land. In the float were some large pieces of styrofoam. With them, I built a raft, and with the raft, my sons and I built our fish trap. In fact, we built two.” The traps have been valuable family assets. When the traps catch more fish than the family can use, they sell the extra.
As their faith in Jesus Christ sustains Tamton and his family in times of need, it also comforts them in times of sorrow. Several years ago one of their sons died while fishing for octopus. He was only 22, but he suffered a heart attack alone out in the ocean.
Tamton’s eyes get moist as he speaks of his son. “The news broke our hearts,” he says. But then his eyes brighten. “We want him sealed to us.” When Tune was their district president, he taught Tamton and Taake about the priesthood and its power to seal families together forever in the temple. They are eager to go.
But with few resources, they have yet to see a temple let alone visit one. Still, Tamton and Taake are trying to find a way. Tune says that if they die before they go to the temple, he will make sure their work is done for them. He encourages them to fill out the necessary family records. Perhaps their children will be able to do the temple work they cannot.
With the meal and the singing and the stories over, Tune and Moretekai take their leave of Tamton and Taake. They have others on the island to visit.
The Saints in Kiribati have great respect for the priesthood, and wherever Tune goes on Abaiang, he is received with gladness. It soon becomes apparent it wasn’t whim that brought him to Abaiang. He was drawn to the island by prayer—reeled in like one of his tuna. He thought he was just visiting, perhaps finding an excuse to go fishing. But the real reason he came was to give Aritaake Moutu a priesthood blessing.
“Ever since I joined the Church, I’ve depended on priesthood blessings,” Sister Moutu says. “I had a problem with one of my legs before I joined the Church. Now whenever it gives me trouble, I ask for a blessing, and I’m always healed. This morning I was praying for someone to come and give me a blessing because my husband is not on the island to give me one.” She smiles at Tune. “That’s why you came.”
“It’s always like that,” Tune says. “She lives on this isolated island in the middle of nowhere. She and her family have their challenges. There are few jobs; most people live off what they can grow and get from the sea. There are no doctors or nurses on Abaiang. The Saints here depend a lot on the Lord. And the Lord takes care of them.”
“Yes, we have our challenges,” Sister Moutu says, “even after joining the Church. But we don’t notice them as much now.”
When the missionaries first contacted her family, Aritaake would run away—or chase the missionaries away. “Our minister told us there would be false prophets, and we thought that was them,” she remembers. “But one time an elder by the name of Jones came to visit us. When I turned him away, he stood outside the house and prayed for us. While he was praying, I felt something in my heart change. I asked the missionaries to forgive me and teach my family.
“One thing the elders did changed me completely. They asked me to pray. When I said my prayer, I became a different person. I started liking the Church, and it was no problem believing the Church’s teachings.”
What impressed her most in all the missionaries taught? “The Spirit they brought. And the teachings about the family—how we can be happy as a family and remain together forever.”
It is time to return to Tarawa. Tune knows he needs to get back before the tide pulls too much water out of Tarawa’s lagoon, leaving parts of it too shallow for his outboard motor. But before he and Moretekai leave, Tune gives Aritaake the priesthood blessing she prayed for.

A youth group in Missouri, USA, decided to put their culinary prowess to the test on this tasty activity. All youth were separated into groups. Then each team was given a cake, some decorating supplies, and the task of decorating the cake to depict a specific scene from the Book of Mormon. In the end, before eating the cakes, everybody had to guess the scene on each cake. “The Spirit was so strong and we were having fun,” said one of the young women. “We all got along and helped each other out.”

When it was time to come up with some ideas for a song for the 2017 Mutual Theme album, I immediately knew what I wanted to write about: I basically gave up seeing my best friend so that I could focus on my mission. I wanted to write about how even though those were some sad, dark days, I knew it was what I was supposed to be doing.
I still had another decision to make. My first year of college was hard because pretty much all of my high school friends had already left on their missions. But the girl I’d known my senior year actually came to BYU too, and she and I became even closer. We started hanging out all the time. Even though I didn’t want to admit it, I could tell—we were slowing becoming boyfriend and girlfriend.
Part of the way through the semester, I started getting a prompting, “You’ve got to stop hanging out so much with this friend.” I knew a mission was on the horizon, and I could tell that because we were hanging out all the time, I wasn’t focusing on preparing for my mission. Actually, this was making it harder for me to go.
It was a really hard prompting to get, because she was my best friend—and one of my only friends. I prayed constantly to know if it was the Lord’s will, even telling Heavenly Father, “This is going to be really hard for me.”
One day I went to the temple and asked Him, and I just felt that that was what I needed to do. So I decided I needed to follow the Lord’s will. I finally talked with her about it, and she understood that I needed to focus on my mission. Still, it was a really difficult, emotional experience.
Over the next few days, I felt so much strength and peace from Heavenly Father. I was able to focus on my mission a lot more and started feeling myself progress spiritually much faster than I had before. Scriptures started standing out to me during my personal scripture study—like Isaiah 3:10, which says that the righteous will “eat the fruit of their doings,” which means that if you do the right things, you will reap the rewards. Once again, my testimony of following the Lord’s will was strengthened.

9. An International Holiday. Plan with three or four other couples to celebrate the Chinese New Year, Jewish Rosh Hashanah or Hanukkah, Hawaiian Kuhio Day, Irish St. Patrick’s Day, Mexican Cinco de Mayo, or any one of the many holidays from the nations of the world. Find out what the people do on their special holiday, what they traditionally eat, how they celebrate, and why. This may take a bit of study and planning, but it can be very rewarding and interesting. With so many returned missionaries to aid you, this shouldn’t be difficult. One young couple celebrated the Chinese New Year with firecrackers and a Chinese dinner served on a low table. Everyone ate while seated on cushions on the floor. After dinner each person was given a piece of paper and asked to think up an original Chinese proverb. The host couple gave a brief account of how the Chinese celebrate their new year. Background music and artwork from the country had been checked out of the local library, and for a few special hours, everyone enjoyed being part of a distant land.