Gospel Story Finder

My son Dallin has always loved reptiles. I, on the other hand, have never liked them. He was allowed to own a reptile on the condition that whatever he chose was able to fit in the hose of a vacuum, just in case it got out of its cage while he was at school. We went through several options, from frogs to iguanas, before settling on two velvety leopard geckos named Fuzz and Diane.

Dallin’s new buddies joined our family when he was seven years old. One aspect of owning geckos that I did not anticipate was the need to feed them crickets—live crickets—once a week. For years Dallin and I made “cricket runs.” They were rarely convenient, usually happening late at night while trying to beat the clock before the pet store closed.

Diane only lived for three years, but Fuzz lived for many years, healthy and happy. Toward the end of Dallin’s senior year in high school, he was assigned to give a demonstration for his public speaking class. He prodded my husband and me for ideas. We suggested he discuss leopard geckos because he already knew so much about them and could bring Fuzz in as a prop. Dallin then told us that Fuzz had died.

“Are you serious? When did he die?” I asked in disbelief.

Dallin told us that Fuzz had died a week before.

“He’s in my room, but don’t worry. He won’t stink. He’s double-bagged.”

After seeing our astonishment, Dallin explained, “I’m doing an experiment—I want to watch him decay.”

Dallin’s experiment turned out to be more than watching him decay. He would stall the process by putting Fuzz in the freezer for a couple of weeks and then bring him out to thaw and decay some more.

A year later, when Dallin was on his mission, I was cleaning out the freezer and found Fuzz, still double-bagged, in the back. Since I was preparing a package to send to Dallin, I thought it would be funny to pass on his little experiment. I carefully put Fuzz in a box, wrapped it in beautiful black and white polka-dot paper, and tucked it neatly into Dallin’s care package with a note that read, “There is a surprise in your package.” Then I anxiously waited for his response.

“I’ve thought about that gecko since getting it back,” he wrote. “Not so much about the actual gecko, but about all of the time spent on car rides every week to get crickets and run other errands, listening to your ideas, stories, and your testimony while in the car. It was a good excuse to have to go and get to talk to you (not that I talked much, but I did listen).”

Buying crickets. Who knew? As parents we can’t always plan the timing of our influence. It often just happens. It may be when we are tucking our kids in bed at night, riding a ski lift together, or just running errands in the car. We have to take time to be with our children.

Once upon a time, in a very small village, there lived two brothers. Peter, the older brother, was very smart and strong. He did everything well.
He planted his garden in nice straight rows.
He gathered his hay and straw into neat bundles.
He fed his chickens and cow well.
He chopped wood exactly the right size and piled it neatly by his little stove.
He kept his little cottage and the shelters for his animals clean and dry.
Yes, Peter did everything well.
Putter, the younger brother, was also smart and strong, but he did very little well. He played his guitar very nicely, and he sang beautifully, but that is all he did well. People thought Putter was lazy. Peter loved his brother and his brother’s music, so he was content to do most of the work for both of them.
When Putter was little, he followed Peter around as he did his chores.
“Let me help you,” Putter would beg.
Peter would hand him seeds to drop into the straight rows that Peter had plowed. But soon he would yell, “Putter, stop! Your seeds are not exactly the same distance apart. You don’t know how to do this.”
“I can learn,” Putter said.
“I can do it better myself,” said Peter.
When he was a little bigger, Putter got some hay to feed the cow. “Stop!” said Peter. “You’re not taking the right amount, and you’re dropping some on the ground.”
“Show me the right way, and I’ll do it,” cried Putter.
“No, I’ll do it myself. Why don’t you try feeding the chickens.”
Putter scattered corn for the chickens and laughed as they clucked around him. But no sooner had he started than Peter came rushing over to the chicken coop. “Stop!” he yelled. “You’re feeding them too much. They’ll grow swollen and sick, and I’ll run out of chicken feed.”
“Just tell me how much to give them, Brother. I want to help,” said Putter.
“No, you can sing and play, but stay out of my way while I’m working.”
Putter and his cat, Matilda, walked to the oak tree. He sat under it and played his guitar. He sang sweet songs, but he was not happy.
When he grew to be a young man, Putter decided that he must help his brother more, so while Peter was out working, he made a meal for him. He sang while he cooked, and he served Peter a dinner of soup, fresh bread, milk, and apples.
“This soup has too little salt,” said Peter, “and the bread is not crusty enough. My bread isn’t, either, but it’s better than yours. You had best let me do the cooking.”
One day Putter said, “Brother, I am too big and strong to allow you to do all the work and take care of me. I will move to the cottage down the road and have my own little farm.”
“How will you manage?” asked Peter.
“I will learn,” said Putter. He packed his things, picked up his guitar, and set out down the road with Matilda following. He got a cow, some chickens, some seeds, and an ax. He sang while he worked, and he worked very hard. He played his guitar and waited for his garden to grow.
When the green shoots came out of the ground, they were weak and straggly and the rows were very crooked. Some seeds had been planted too deep and didn’t come up at all. Some had been planted too shallow and were washed away by the rain or eaten by the birds.
“Oh dear,” said Putter. “I won’t have enough corn for my chickens. But I see now what I did wrong.”
The hay he planted grew a little, but Putter did not know how to tie and stack it properly or when to bring it in. One night, rain soaked it and made it moldy. “Oh dear,” Putter said. “I worked hard, but now there won’t be enough hay for the cow. However, I see now what I should have done.”
Winter was coming, so Putter chopped wood for his fire. When the snows came, he put some of the wood into his little potbellied stove. But the pieces were too long, and he could not close the door, so the fire burned too quickly, and soon his supply of wood was gone.
Matilda sat beside him while he played a sad song on his guitar. “I’m sorry, Matilda,” he said. “I’m a failure. I must admit my faults and take you and the cow and the chickens to my brother’s home, or we will all starve.”
He knocked on Peter’s door, but his brother did not open it. He knocked again. A weak voice called, “Come in.”
Putter found his brother in bed, looking very ill. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I was chopping wood. One piece was not exactly the right size, and when I trimmed it, the ax slipped, and I cut my foot deeply.”
“How glad I am that I came. I’ll do your chores and care for you until you’re well.”
“Oh dear,” Peter moaned as soon as Putter had gone out to the barn.
Putter tied his thin cow in the stall next to Peter’s fat cow. He looked to see how much hay Peter had set out for his cow, then gave both cows that same amount.
He put his chickens in the yard with Peter’s chickens. He looked at the corn Peter had measured out to feed the chickens, then added another measure just like it to feed all of them.
The sky looked a little stormy, so he gathered the neat piles of hay and straw and put them under shelter.
While Peter slept, Putter made dinner. “This time I will taste the soup so I will use enough salt. And I will butter the top before I bake the bread. That will make it crustier.”
While the soup simmered and the bread baked, Putter gathered apples and milked the cows. He chopped wood, too, remembering to make the pieces smaller.
When Peter awoke, the cottage was warm and cozy and smelled of good things. He heard sweet music and smiled. “I’m very hungry, Brother,” he said.
Peter tasted the meal that Putter had made. “Why, this is fine food, Brother. How did you do it?” Putter just smiled and strummed his guitar.
Peter tried to climb out of bed. “I must feed our cows and the chickens,” he said.
“I have done that already,” said Putter, gently pushing him back into bed.
“But you don’t know how!” Peter exclaimed. “And it’s raining! The hay will be wet—the firewood too.”
“They are dry, and the wood is chopped and stacked by the stove.”
Peter scratched his head. “How did you learn so much so quickly, Brother?”
Putter smiled again. “By my mistakes, I suppose. When I first played my guitar, I made many mistakes. Then I learned what I did wrong, and I improved. But when I made mistakes helping you, you never let me try again. In my little house, I did everything wrong. But God has blessed me with the brains to see my mistakes, and I am learning. Did you never make mistakes before you got so smart, Brother?”
“I suppose I did.” Peter thought a while. “Come to think of it, I’m still making mistakes. I kept my strong, smart brother from helping me, and I cut my own foot trying to be perfect. I’ll probably make more mistakes, but I hope you’ll stay here and help me.”
Putter played a happy tune on his guitar, Matilda curled up by the stove, and Peter smiled and tapped the floor with the foot that didn’t hurt.
“Perhaps you will show me how to make that delicious crusty bread, Brother,” said Peter.
“Of course I will.” Putter’s eyes twinkled as he added, “And if it doesn’t turn out well, I’ll let you try again until you get it right.”

“You got a dog?” he finally asked Steve.
“No.”
“Well, let me tell you something. You get yourself a dog before your wife gets too set in her ways.”
“You like dogs?” he asked Cathy.
“They’re okay.”
“They’re a lot better than okay,” the man said. “A dog’ll never let you down, never complains when you don’t get home on time.” Fumbling for his wallet, he pulled out a picture and handed it to Steve. “Ain’t she something? She’s real pretty, huh?”
“Yes,” Steve answered.
“She’s part German shepherd and part wolf. But you know what?” the man continued. “My wife hates that dog. It’s her own fault, too.”
He bent the empty can in two and tossed it into the already full wastepaper basket. He wiped his mouth and continued his story. “My wife’s got false teeth. When the dog was just a pup, my wife left the teeth on the kitchen table overnight. Well, you know how pups are when they’re young. When we got up next morning, there were pieces of false teeth all over the place. That pup chewed up my wife’s teeth! Ain’t that something?” He reared back in his chair, laughing crazily.
The laughing brought Oscar from the garage; he added some other details about how long it took to get another set of false teeth and how his friend’s wife wouldn’t go out in public until they came. That started them both laughing again.

I loved my mission. But when I came back home to the Philippines, I faced lot of anxiety because of something I call “spiritual burnout.”
To me, spiritual burnout means feeling completely drained after giving all you can. This affected my life to the point where I would stay in my room all day because I was so exhausted.
As a returned missionary, I felt pressure from my family, friends, and community regarding my life decisions. I felt like the people around me had a lot of thoughts about the choices I was making and what I should be doing—it was overwhelming. I hid how I was feeling from everyone because I didn’t want to disappoint them.
Over time, the pressure became too much for me to bear.
Even though I felt this way, I was able to find peace as I turned to Heavenly Father for guidance. Here are three ways I did it:
The expectations of others made it hard for me to find the peace I needed to transition back to life at home as a returned missionary.
So I prayed about what direction I should take for my future and told Heavenly Father about the pressure I was feeling. As I worked to invite the Spirit into my life, I felt prompted to take a leap of faith and move to the United Arab Emirates to work. This inspiration was super unexpected, and a lot of people in my community were shocked when I followed this prompting.
I suddenly felt so much hope! I felt that through the Spirit, God was leading me in a direction that would bring me the healing I needed.
Learning to let go of expectations other people had for me and focusing on Heavenly Father’s guidance allowed me to move forward with hope and faith.
Moving to Dubai taught me the importance of being proactive. Whatever our circumstances, we can be proactive about making changes and seeking Christ wherever we may be.

Young: I could go on for an hour if you want. At the beginning of my mission, I remember praying and praying that I would feel like I was doing something worthwhile. After about two weeks, we started teaching a little family out in a village. Most of the conversation was going right by me, because I was just starting to get hold of the language. The mother started crying, and my companion asked her what was wrong. She wanted to explain that she’d had a dream. In the dream she had seen a great white building. Down in Honduras there aren’t too many of those. People were dressed in white and they were going in and out of this beautiful building. Then she said, “Outside that building, waiting to take us in, was Elder Young.”
I realized she was talking about the temple, even though she didn’t know it. And I said, “Look what I’m involved with, helping people to be eternal families.” And it happened. The family was baptized a couple of weeks later and I got a letter last summer telling me they were sealed in the Guatemala Temple.
That’s something more important than any football success I might have. That’s something I can say for myself later, that I was involved in something like that.

When I was seven years old I made my performing debut in a Primary operetta in the Douglas Ward in Salt Lake City. I played Raggedy Andy, and the night of our performance is one of my first truly vivid memories. I remember the costume my mother made out of white wool with red, green, and yellow stripes and the large buttons covered with the same material. (Patches of that costume are now in a well-worn quilt in my closet.) I remember the smell of the lipstick making large round circles on my cheeks. I remember the duet I sang with a little friend, “I’m Raggedy Andy—and I’m Little Anne. We’re sewed together, you see. If some little girl chooses one of us, she’ll have to take both you and me.” (We were separated, of course, and the story hung on our getting back together again. It was a sad story with a happy ending, as many stories are.) I remember walking home on that summer night, thrilled with the adventure of performing. And from then on, whenever being in a play was suggested, no hand shot up faster than mine.

I often think back to my time with President Kimball. He would invite me to his family camping trips, picnics, and Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. Even then I knew that he truly was an Apostle and prophet of the Lord Jesus Christ.
I met President Kimball one last time while he was very ill. But he still smiled at me and hugged me. He was my first LDS contact, and I knew he would never let go of me.

A third fundamental in this exciting challenge of reclaiming the inactive is that of timing. The scripture rightly says:
“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
“A time to be born, … a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted.” (Eccl. 3:1–2.)
My stake missionary friend had another convincing experience that taught him never to regard people as unchanging or unchangeable. They are neither stones nor stars. They are in constant motion.
A doctor rebuffed my friend in his attempts to serve as a home teacher. This doctor was a Church member in name only. His door seemed to be permanently and tightly closed to representatives of the Church. Then one evening my friend was visiting the hospital and was surprised and saddened to find in one bed the intractable doctor. He humbly and courageously asked, “Wouldn’t you like us to give you a blessing?”
“That, above all things right now, would help me most,” affirmed the doctor, weak and dispirited. And that, said my friend, was what it took to reactivate this heretofore inactive brother. It seems that for everyone there is a time—if only the Spirit of God sensitizes our hearts to the action we should take!

Some years ago in our meetinghouse in Darmstadt, Germany, a group of brethren was asked to move a grand piano from the chapel to the adjoining cultural hall, where it was needed for a musical event. None were professional movers, and the task of getting that gravity-friendly instrument through the chapel and into the cultural hall seemed nearly impossible. Everybody knew that this task required not only physical strength but also careful coordination. There were plenty of ideas, but not one could keep the piano balanced correctly. They repositioned the brethren by strength, height, and age over and over again—nothing worked.
As they stood around the piano, uncertain of what to do next, a good friend of mine, Brother Hanno Luschin, spoke up. He said, “Brethren, stand close together and lift where you stand.”
It seemed too simple. Nevertheless, each lifted where he stood, and the piano rose from the ground and moved into the cultural hall as if on its own power. That was the answer to the challenge. They merely needed to stand close together and lift where they stood.

In Alaska, LDS teenagers who live in the towns of Wasilla, Palmer, and Eagle River look at the Anchorage Alaska Temple and know that something of theirs is safe inside. They were fortunate enough to be in the right place at the right time to make a promise, sign their names to it, then have those pledges sealed inside the cornerstone of the temple at the dedication.
The promise they signed was quite short. It said simply: “As I prepare for marriage and a mission, I will live the standards of worthiness for entrance into the house of the Lord.” It was a promise that many of them were willing to make, but now that the promise is literally encased in stone in the temple and sealed with mortar, these young people have taken it very seriously.
“This was a goal I had previously made,” says Katie Green of the Eagle River Second Ward, “but had never put on paper. When I was given the opportunity to do so, I jumped at it. I didn’t just sign it; I pondered it. To me a promise is a promise and cannot be broken, especially with our Father in Heaven. Living the standards of worthiness doesn’t mean just not crossing the line. It means that we must live as far away from that line as possible.”
For Amie Uscola of the Wasilla First Ward, making a promise like this one is very personal. “Having my name in the cornerstone of the temple is like an agreement on a personal basis with the Lord. It is like a possession of His, and if you broke it, it is more personal. I actually do think about it every time I come here.”
These teens are thrilled to have a temple so close to their hometowns. Before the Anchorage Alaska Temple was built, these teens only rarely, if ever, had the opportunity to travel to a temple. The trips were expensive and often a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Now they have many more opportunities to do baptisms and to go through the temple for their own endowments before leaving on missions or being married. Ryan Rampton of the Eagle River Second Ward said, “With something as sacred as doing temple ordinances, now I won’t have to go to another state. I can do it in the place I grew up. That actually means a lot to me.”
Having signed a pledge that is now permanently in the temple’s cornerstone makes coming to the temple even better. “The feelings I get whenever I enter the temple,” says ShaLene Grover of the Palmer First Ward, “make the desires of my heart stronger to be a better person. This makes a difference in my life, to always be worthy to go to the temple, so I can always feel the peace I feel when going there.”
Just exactly what can these teens do to keep the promise they signed?
Katie Green’s friends know she has standards that she lives. They even know about the For the Strength of Youth pamphlet that outlines and explains just what those standards are. And they like it that when they are with Katie, they have a friend who will help them be a little bit better instead of a little bit worse.
Attending Church meetings and seminary makes it easier. Christy Kendall of the Eagle River First Ward explained how she received an answer as to how she was supposed to act. “It was a lesson when I was a Mia Maid that said you need to make a decision now so that when evil things confront you, you will have a definite answer ready. From then on, For the Strength of Youth became my handbook. It wasn’t just words to me because now I knew that was how I needed to act. Those were my answers that I needed to say when confronted.”
And staying worthy of a temple recommend also prepares these young people to serve the Lord. “The promise I made with my Heavenly Father,” says Austin Wallace of the Eagle River Second Ward, “has influenced my life. I strive to live worthy to enter the temple. I know that if I am temple worthy I am also mission worthy.”
Austin has always followed the good examples set by his friends. He says, “My friends are still the people I look up to. Their testimonies shine through me because I’ve emulated them in all they’ve done.” Austin’s best friend is serving a full-time mission, and Austin is preparing to serve also. “I’ve just loved the Church so much. Now that I’ve seen the choices my friends have made, it’s part of my own personal choice to do the same.”
The Anchorage Alaska Temple is not large, but its light-gray granite walls catch the light. It’s easy to see from one of the main highways. Tim Miner of the Palmer First Ward sees the temple when he has to go that way to get to work. And he remembers his promise.
And Tisha Harman of the Wasilla Second Ward remembers her pledge. She even remembers where her name was among the dozens of other signatures on the sheet.
Dené Christensen of the Eagle River Second Ward says, “When you really think about it, having your name sealed in a cornerstone in the house of the Lord is just amazing. You don’t want to do anything wrong. You don’t want to tarnish or damage any part of that temple. Then I remember that my name’s in there.”
Even though these teens were the right age and at the right place to sign a pledge to remain worthy to enter the temple, Emerson Fry of the Palmer Second Ward reminds us all, “Whether or not you sign a paper, I hope that everyone makes the same promise to themselves and to God.”
“We committed ourselves to our Heavenly Father, that if He would send us to the earth and give us bodies and give to us the priceless opportunities that earth life afforded, we would keep our lives clean and would marry in the holy temple and would rear a family and teach them righteousness. This was a solemn oath, a solemn promise” (Salt Lake Institute of Religion Devotional, 10 Jan. 1975, 2).—President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985)
“Signing this promise was simply a unique way of recommitting ourselves on a more personal level, much like renewing covenants every Sunday in sacrament meeting. This promise offered me a new chance to recommit myself to the standards I may have faltered in obeying. It redefined the covenants I’ve made and gave me renewed purpose to become prepared to enter the temple, go on my mission, and get married.”—Ryan Rampton, 16, Eagle River Second Ward, Wasilla Alaska Stake
“I was able to sign the pledge that is placed in the cornerstone of the temple. By signing I was able to make a promise that I will always be worthy to enter the temple. Just to think that one day I will be able to enter the temple knowing that I have been worthy brings me joy and happiness.”—Crystal Eriksson, 17, Wasilla Second Ward, Wasilla Alaska Stake

In the early days of the Church, missionaries traveled without purse or scrip. That means they did not take with them any money or other usual items. Instead, they depended upon the Lord to furnish them with food, a place to sleep, and clothes to wear.
While my father was on his mission, he always had a place to sleep and plenty of food to eat. Once, however, he was discouraged because of his shabby appearance and the condition of his clothes. He had walked so far that his shoes had worn through; he had torn his coat and trousers; his shirt was ragged and faded; and low-hanging tree branches had poked holes in his hat. He prayed as he had never prayed before for the Lord to somehow help him get new clothing.
Soon afterward my father arrived in the town that was the county seat. When he went to pick up his mail, he found three letters waiting for him, each containing money. He also met two or three individuals who gave him money. So he went to the store and purchased the things he needed. As the clerk totaled the purchases, the bill came to exactly the amount of money he had received. Father always said, “This was truly an answer to prayer.”

Faith in Jesus Christ and good works shine like beacons in the lives of the Indonesian Saints. Brother Suwarno of Solo faced a challenge to his newly found faith when he lost a seven-year-old daughter to a tragic accident just two weeks after he joined the Church in December 1977.

“In those days I was a tailor. I was always very busy and couldn’t spend time with my family. On the day of the accident, I was busy getting something ready for a customer, and had left my daughter unattended. Somehow she tipped over a small kerosene burner that was alight on the table. The spilled oil caught fire, and flames spread to her hair and then down her dress. I burned my hands as I frantically removed her dress. I took her to the hospital, where she died eight days later.

“The missionaries and the members of the branch came to the hospital and to our home to offer their help. One of the members spent many hours with me at the hospital every night. I could not forget nor disregard what he and the other members did for me. It was their support and strength that helped me in those early days of my membership.

“The fellowshipping and the genuine concern of the members eventually helped my wife decide to join the Church. She was baptized in 1979. Our children have been baptized as they have become old enough.

“At the time I came into the Church, I was trying to decide how I could improve myself and the life of my family. I started taking English-language classes that the missionaries offered, and eventually I was able to pass a government test. Now I have a better position as a tourist guide.”

Sometimes, says Brother Suwarno, being a Latter-day Saint in an Islamic society is not easy. “When my son was in junior high school, his teacher was very strict and told him not to follow the teachings of the Church. But my son conducted himself the way he should, and everything was all right. I tell my family, ‘Regardless of what happens, remember who you are and live up to the standards of the Church.’”

To help maintain those standards, two of Brother and Sister Suwarno’s children attended an early morning seminary class taught by Sister Endang Prihatini. Sister Endang, now thirty-five, was one of the missionaries who visited the Suwarnos at the time they lost their daughter. She had been introduced to the Church by Latter-day Saint friends. When Sister Endang asked for something to read, “They gave me a pamphlet that outlined the plan of salvation. I became very interested. I asked my friends if I could join the Church. Of course, they were very happy to hear that. They said if I wanted to learn about the Church, they would have the elders come to my home. I first got permission from my father, and the missionaries came and presented the gospel to us.

“My father and my brother also listened to the discussions. I was baptized in March 1974. A month later, my father was baptized; and a month after that, two of my brothers were baptized. Later on, my mother was baptized, and my other brothers and sisters were baptized when they reached the age of eight. Out of nine children, five of us so far have served missions in Indonesia.

“I was one of the first native sister missionaries to be called. I served eighteen months as a welfare missionary. One of my companions was Mary Ellen Edmunds, who is now associate director of training at the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah. She would teach me English every morning by saying such things as ‘This is a wall,’ ‘Drop your pen,’ ‘Pick it up.’”

Sister Endang now works full-time for the Church Educational System, teaching three seminary classes with a total of forty-five students from four branches. She also teaches three institute classes for young married couples, returned missionaries, and college students. She also serves as the district’s Single Adult president.

As with many young women in the Church, Sister Endang has faced the challenge of being single. “It’s not a challenge for me now,” she says. “You see, a few years ago, when I was about thirty, I was unhappy that I was not married. One day I said to my Heavenly Father, ‘Lord, I do everything I am supposed to do. Why am I not married to a good man, a priesthood holder?’ Deep in my heart I felt him say to me something like, ‘Endang, you have a lot of things to be thankful for.’ And then he reminded me of the many blessings that I have received, especially the knowledge of the gospel.

“In addition to that experience, I have been comforted by my patriarchal blessing, which tells me I will meet the man who will ask me to go to the temple to be married. I am sure that the Lord will give me that chance if I will always stay close to him. So I don’t worry about being single anymore.

“I just know the Lord will watch over me if I live according to the standards of the Church.”

Upholding the standards of the Church is a daily goal for Sister Hermin of the Djakarta Selatan Branch, who has had to support her three boys alone. She was an inactive member of a Protestant church when a Latter-day Saint relative asked her if she would like to hear the gospel message.

“Her question reminded me of something that had happened ten years earlier when I was twenty years old,” says Sister Hermin. “I had asked my mother then where I could learn of the gospel of Jesus Christ. My mother had told me to be patient because the day would come, she said, when one or two people would come to my home to teach me the gospel.

“I was baptized a member of the Church in December 1985, three months after I first met the missionaries. I was married by then and had one son, Mindo. He and my husband later joined the Church.”

Eventually, a second son, Nando, was born, who joined the Church when he was old enough. Their third child, a daughter, died when she was a year old.

Losing a struggle with alcohol, Sister Hermin’s husband was unable to support his family and fell away from the Church. Sister Hermin became the family provider by selling watermelon from a street cart—something she still does. Her husband died in 1989, while she was expecting their third son, Martin.

With her three boys, she lives in a small, two-room shack sandwiched between some dilapidated shops at the edge of a busy road. She supplements her income by renting out her small home in another part of the neighborhood.

Striving to make the shack livable and a haven from the noisy world outside is a challenge. Once, a section of the shack collapsed, but her branch president helped her make repairs.

“The branch members are always available to help me if I need it,” she says. “But my greatest help comes from being active in the Church. I enjoy the lesson material, and I appreciate the spiritual education that the boys receive. My boys have been through some hard times, but their attitude toward life is good because of our activity in the Church. And family home evening isn’t just one day a week with us. We get together almost every night and read the scriptures and sing together.

“I know from experience that whenever I feel sad or troubled, if I read the scriptures and sing some hymns, my burden will be lifted, and I will be happy again.”

The gospel and the happiness it can bring are shared by President and Sister Yohanes Depalangga and their family in Bandung.

Brother Dapalangga was born into a Christian family. His father was a minister in a Protestant church. His grandfather had been the first native minister on their home island of Sumba. But his family’s religious beliefs did not fit “with my inner feelings, my conscience. Consequently, I was considered an unruly boy as I constantly challenged those beliefs. I attended a Christian university, and later a Muslim university, but I found no satisfaction when it came to religion.”

Many years later, as a married man living in Bandung, he saw two Latter-day Saint missionaries walking along the street.

“I was impressed with their appearance and especially with their name tags, which publicly declared they represented a Christian church. Most Christians I knew were reluctant to publicize their faith.”

After questioning the missionaries, he invited them to his home. Over the next few weeks, the missionaries taught Brother Dapalangga and his wife.

“Some of the things they taught were so new to us,” says Brother Dapalangga. “It was the first time we had heard of the Savior appearing on the American continent, the first time we had heard of the plan of salvation. For a time, I decided to avoid seeing the missionaries because I was afraid they were teaching false doctrine. But they persisted, even waiting hours for me to come home.

“Eventually, I decided that I should listen to all that the missionaries had to say and then make up my mind if it was the truth. They gave me a copy of the Book of Mormon, and I spent the best part of a week doing nothing but reading and pondering its contents.

“As I began to read, there seemed to be some kind of force telling me it was not true. But I fought against that feeling and prayed that I might be able to complete the book.

“Over a period of time, I prayed often that I might know if the Book of Mormon was true and if the missionaries were the Lord’s servants.

“One night, as I slept, I felt the Lord tell me to delay no longer. He told me the Book of Mormon was true and the missionaries were truly his servants. He told me I should take my wife and family to church, something we hadn’t done because we didn’t feel worthy to go.

“This was a special spiritual moment for me. Even now I want to cry as I remember feeling the love of God for me. I felt he cared for me, a man who had nothing, a man who had no great hope for the future. But I know now that the Lord has always taken care of me and my family. He has always watched over us, as he watches over all his children.

“I woke my wife and told her of my experience. She was impressed, as I was, that this was the answer to our prayers.”

From that moment on, the Dapalangga family absorbed the gospel teachings and attended church—but there was a six-month delay before their baptism in 1984. “We had lost our marriage certificate, and the missionaries would not baptize us without proof of our marriage in 1973. Finally we got a copy from a government office.”

President Dapalangga’s family in Sumba has welcomed his involvement in a Christian church. “My father came to visit me and asked me lots of questions. Finally, he told me that he believed the Church was true, but he could not bring himself to break away from his church or his congregation. He took home with him a Book of Mormon, and he uses it to teach the youth. He has sent a number of boys to stay with us so that we can teach them the gospel. Some of the boys have been baptized.”

From the time they accepted the gospel, the Dapalanggas have been active in the Bandung Branch. Within a year of his baptism, Brother Dapalangga was called to serve as second counselor in the branch presidency. He was called to be branch president in 1987. Sister Tini Dapalangga has been active in Relief Society as president and as a counselor in another presidency.

Through their various callings, President and Sister Dapalangga have had the opportunity to share in the challenges and problems that branch members have experienced. “But,” they agree, “even the most difficult problem can be overcome through prayer and a willingness to do the Lord’s work.”

President Dapalangga shares spiritual advice and scriptural knowledge not only with the branch members, but also with everyone who buys products from his sidewalk medicine stall. He tells his customers that the medicine may help them, but the Lord and his ways are the best “medicine” of all.

In addition to medicines, President Dapalangga also sells snakes—live ones. “I get the snakes from snake catchers or farmers in the central part of Java, where there are many cobras. People like to eat the meat and use the skins. They also like the snake oil as a salve for aches and pains.”

Even though they handle snakes, the Dapalanggas are wise enough to stay away from the poisonous fangs. In the same way, says President Dapalangga, “we strive to stay away from iniquity by living the gospel and building our spiritual strength.

“We should believe in the Lord with our whole heart and not depend upon our own understanding. If we accept the Lord and all his ways, he will lead us in the path we should go. I know from personal experience that this church is led by revelation, and we can have revelation in our own lives, too.”

Jessica P. and Nory A., two young women who live on Santa Cruz, know this personally. They are both converts and have both seen the difference keeping the commandments makes. There aren’t very many members in the Galápagos Islands (only 125 members in their branch out of around 25,000 people on their island). It can be difficult to stay on the strait and narrow path (see 1 Nephi 8:20; 2 Nephi 4:33; 31:17–19; Alma 7:19) with temptations such as alcohol and drugs all around.
Nory has seen the challenges in her own family. A year after her family was baptized, they were sealed in the Guayaquil Ecuador Temple. Not long after, however, several members of her family fell away. For a time she and her mom were the only ones who participated in church. How did she stay strong?
“Family home evening,” she says. “For a while, just my mom and I would hold it. Later my older brother and my dad started coming. And every time we study the gospel, my dad says, ‘This is for me.’ Now he is getting stronger and my brother too.”

I know that the healing power is in the Church and that numerous people are healed or improved or restored through the blessings of the Lord, sometimes with and without the skill of men.

We should do all we can for ourselves first: dieting, resting, taking simple herbs known to be effective, and applying common sense, especially to minor trouble. Then we could send for the elders, the home teachers, the neighbors or friends in whom we have confidence. Frequently this is all that is required, and numerous healings can be effected. In serious cases where the problem is not solved, we turn to our skilled and helpful men who can help so wonderfully. One young woman who was sent to the hospital for serious surgery, and who was very nervous and afraid, stated that when the doctor came to see her the night before the early morning surgery, he indicated he had been to the temple. She relaxed and felt at peace, realizing that she was in the hands of a righteous, skilled man of faith and the Lord was watching.

I was baptized in 2012 and attended a branch in the Ipoméia Brazil District. Since 2014, I have been really engaged in family history. It started with the invitation from Elder Neil L. Andersen of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles at RootsTech to do baptisms for my own family names. I felt really committed to do family history, knowing that if I “knocked,” it would be “opened” (see Matthew 7:7).
Now I have many more generations, pictures, documents, and, most important, more family stories, which is awesome. Having this information, I wrote a book with pictures and dates from my family history. This project helped me contact my nonmember family members and gave me the opportunity to share my testimony that families can be eternal.
This work has helped me stand in holy places, stay active in the Church, and accept the calling to serve the Lord on a mission.
I have a testimony that the work of salvation done by this Church on both sides of the veil is true and inspired by our Heavenly Father. Before my mission, I had the opportunity to do baptisms for my ancestors, and now as a missionary I have the opportunity to baptize people who are alive and want to change their lives forever.
Elder Claudio Klaus Jr., Arizona Mesa Mission

The thought of coming home early was devastating. As soon as the counselor suggested it, I felt a very complicated mix of emotions: Shame. Relief. Guilt. Peace. Sorrow. All at the same time.
I know that God was supporting me because somehow I got through that first week home. And then I got through another week. And another. Until I was finally able to feel like myself again. My dad was my biggest support and really took me under his wing. He always wanted to talk and spend time with me. Not to pry into what “went wrong,” but just to see how I was doing.
When my dad passed away in a rock climbing accident a few months later, I knew without a doubt that God has a plan for me. Being able to be with my dad for the last months of his life strengthened my testimony of the plan of salvation. I still don’t understand all the reasons why I had to come home when I did, but I’ve also learned that if you spend too much time wondering why, then you miss the wonderful miracles God has provided for you every day.
Kristen Watabe, Ohio, USA

There is one last scene I would call up for you from my journal. The sobering realities of our present Middle East involvement, where many of our people are in threatening conditions, make this memory particularly pertinent and particularly appreciated. I read it as I wrote it in Nha Trang, Vietnam, in May 1967:
“There was a memorable meeting this morning, which began with a senior military chaplain of another church addressing us warmly as ‘My brothers in Christ.’ This touched me deeply, and the meeting that went along was consistent with his gentle beginning.
“It was a very special, tender meeting; the Spirit was strong.
“It was uncomfortably warm in the room where we met. There were two ancient air conditioners, but they were ineffective. In fact, we discovered when we finally opened the door that it was cooler outside than in. Notwithstanding this, a great spirit was felt and a sweet experience enjoyed.
“Outside the room after the meeting, I walked quietly down the passageway alongside the large room where we had met. As I passed the back door, I looked in and saw a kind of human barrier that had been set up to separate the many young men who were lingering in the front part of the room from a few who were in the back. Three men had their hands on the head of another who sat on a chair. All four were dressed in battle gear; two had returned from air strikes to the north just in time for the meeting, and one was shortly to go. The three members of the district presidency were giving a blessing to an officer senior to them all, setting him apart as a district missionary.”
For some reason this sweet scene affected me more deeply than any priesthood sermon I have heard. Priesthood to them meant the right and the power to serve, to act in the name of the Lord as his agents and in his interests with their fellowmen. This scene I hope I will never forget.

I have been a missionary for the past nine months and had many wonderful opportunities to serve within my local community. I saw firsthand what we can do when we work together with other faiths, just as the Saviour did.
My service mission leaders encouraged me to look for my own service opportunities in my community, and one I came across was with the RAF Manston History Museum, where I helped them to clean and get the museum ready for all the visitors. Another I found is at the Thanet Winter Shelter run by the Salvation Army where I cook meals for the residents on a Saturday night.

Embarking on my education with BYU-Pathway Worldwide presented daunting challenges—power outages and unreliable internet connectivity which threatened to derail my academic pursuits, threatening my ability to complete the one-year PathwayConnect program. Despite my fears, I persevered, relying on prayer and faith. Miraculously, I witnessed divine intervention, which bolstered my confidence as an online student. A job opportunity, facilitated by a friend, provided the means to provide backup electricity and secure reliable Wi-Fi. It felt like a miracle! With these basic necessities restored, I felt a renewed sense of hope and determination to pursue my educational goals. However, my journey was far from smooth sailing.
Upon graduation from PathwayConnect, acceptance into BYU-Idaho’s online bachelor’s program brought renewed concerns. The unexpected loss of my job caused some financial hardship, which left me with no means to afford tuition and essential course materials. Depleted savings increased my worries, yet I knew that quitting school was not an option. As President Dieter. F. Uchtdorf once said, “For members of the Church, education is not merely a good idea—it’s a commandment”.
Amidst fervent prayers and contemplation, I saw a post on LinkedIn by Matt Richards, who works at BYU-Pathway. He talked about the Hall Foundation Scholarship. It was like an answer to my prayers! This scholarship helped me pay for school and books, so I could keep studying. Its promise of financial support was a lifeline in my time of need. Securing the scholarship eased the burden of tuition and expenses, allowing me to focus on my academic pursuits. Even when things seemed tough, I learned to trust that help would come when I needed it most. With faith and help from above, I’m about to graduate. It’s been a journey full of ups and downs, but I know I’m not alone. There are miracles all around us, if we just keep believing.

As soon as Dad came home, I asked him, “How can wishes come true?”
“I can’t tell you,” he answered, “but I wish my good suit was cleaned and pressed. I need it tomorrow.” Looking at Mom’s note saying that she would be late, he started picking up the living room. “Hmmm … it needs the full treatment,” he said. He wheeled out the vacuum cleaner.
When Mom came home, she looked around with pleasure at the clean, inviting living room. And the next morning Dad was happy to find his freshly pressed suit in his closet.