Gospel Story Finder

There is something of the spirit of the priesthood there. When I was a little fellow, I can remember once having an evening meal at home. Father was having a conversation with Mother. Mother had been shopping in town that day. Father said, “Did you get the things you wanted in town?”
“Yes,” she said, “I got everything I wanted.”
And he asked, “Well, did anything special happen to you in town?”
And my mother said, “Oh, yes. I met the bishop!”
Mother had met the bishop. Now she saw him every week. And it was just Brother Dredge who ran the seed store. But he was the bishop.
Now the conversation didn’t go like this:
“Anything special in town?”
“No, nothing.”
“See anybody you know?”
“Oh, nobody special. Oh, I did see the bishop.”
No, not with my mother. She hadn’t just seen the bishop. She had seen the Bishop.

When I was eight years old, our family went on a vacation to the state of New York. I learned that many important events in Church history took place there.
My parents had taught us about Joseph Smith and his prayer to seek wisdom from God. They taught us about Joseph’s experience in the Sacred Grove. They also taught us about the gold plates that were buried in the Hill Cumorah. We had heard these stories many times before in family home evening, in Primary, and in our church meetings.
When we got to New York, we visited the site where Joseph Smith lived with his parents and brothers and sisters. We were reminded that the Smith family loved the Bible and often read from it and prayed together. Then we went down the lane to the grove of trees where Joseph went to ask Heavenly Father which church was His true church.
As our family walked into the Sacred Grove, my heart began to pound. There was a peaceful, wonderful feeling there. I felt something very special as I thought about Joseph Smith and his prayer for wisdom. He actually saw our Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ. I knew it was true. My parents later explained that the special feeling I felt was the Holy Ghost.

Recently, while enjoying a family vacation, Sister Eyring, several of our children, and I attended Church meetings away from Rexburg. We were among many visitors. I was impressed by the inspiring sacrament meeting addresses and an engaging Sunday School lesson.

During that lesson, there was mention made of a family who were among the founders of what had been a small branch of the Church there. This family had deep roots in the area, dating back to the 1880s. After the Sunday School lesson, I wanted to know more.

From longtime members of what is now a ward, I learned that this family made a decent living thanks to a lumber and sawmill business. By the turn of the twentieth century, the family had the good fortune to be granted a homestead by then-president Woodrow Wilson. Their 150-acre operation had a log cabin that served as their headquarters. They also grazed cattle on the property.

The father was blessed with two hard-working sons, and their operations expanded. With the profits of the businesses, as well as property acquisition in the growing town, the brothers could have cashed out. In fact, they were tempted, but they wisely let their holdings grow in value.

Then, many years later, when the family sold the business, the surviving brother walked into his bishop’s office. Without explanation, he presented a tithing check to a member of the bishopric. This bishopric member looked at the check and said, “You have too many zeroes.” The assumption was that the last two zeroes on the check should have had a decimal point ahead of them.

But the donor clarified that his donation stood. There were not too many zeroes—only several lifetimes of hard work, thrift, and good financial investment. The beneficiaries would be countless needy Saints.

Sasha is a young single woman in a family ward, which isn’t always easy. She feels happy and fulfilled but often very different—and a little conspicuous—around other ward members. Like most of us, she longs for acceptance and belonging.
Thomas, an older man in the ward, was assigned as her ministering brother and stopped by with his wife one day to get to know Sasha. The visit was a little awkward as the conversation turned to her single status. But as they talked, Sasha could tell that Thomas and his wife were just trying to understand her situation and how they could help.
At one point, Thomas said, “I noticed your yard might need a little love. I’d love to help you with that.”
Sasha’s profession keeps her so busy that taking care of her yard isn’t her top priority. And besides, she doesn’t enjoy it. She knows how to do yard work, and she knows she could do it. But that doesn’t change the fact that she loathes it.
There was a time that his question might have hurt her feelings. But Thomas mentioned that he’d been in the military and understood what a woman often has to do on her own when her husband is not around. She recognized that Thomas was simply looking for a way to deepen their friendship. He was trying to combine his life experience with hers and find common ground.
Both sides of this ministering relationship learned to love and accept each other from where they were, and a close, genuine friendship developed.
And Sasha’s lawn never looked better.

I was 13 or 14 years old, living with my father and two of my older brothers. My oldest brother was living in a group home in Provo, Utah, and we were going to meet him at church. He was mentally disabled, and he was going to pass the sacrament that day. I was nervous. I was always nervous around the people in the group home. I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t know how to act. Arnol, my brother, was okay, because I grew up with him and he would make me laugh with his silly jokes. He always called me “dog eyes” because my eyes were brown and they looked like the eyes of our dog.
My dad was wearing his suit, and he looked very distinguished. We didn’t talk much in the car. It was a two-hour drive, and I think we were all a little nervous. We were all wondering how Arnol was going to handle this big responsibility.
The church was crowded, and we were sitting in the very back of the chapel in the overflow area. I could see Arnol sitting by the sacrament table. He kept looking around to see if he could spot us. He looked good. His hair was combed, his tie was on, and his jacket hid his stooped shoulders. I could tell he was nervous and hesitating, looking for reassuring nods from the other boys.
The boys stood up for the prayer, then took their trays and started down the aisles. Arnol tipped his tray as he shuffled along, but nothing fell off. He took it to the correct row, and he managed to pass it to the first person. People in the audience smiled at him and gave him encouraging nods. He was grinning. I could tell that he was pleased with himself. He was doing this all by himself. He was doing a good job. I heard a sigh of relief pass from my dad’s lips. Inwardly, I started to relax a little too. It was going to work out fine.
After the sacrament, the boys stood up to join their families. My dad stood up straight and tall in the back of the chapel so that Arnol could see him. Arnol looked around and saw Dad; then while half running down the aisle, he said, “Did you see me, Dad? Here I come, Dad; did you see me?”
I was embarrassed, and I could feel my face grow red. What would everyone think? But no one was frowning; they were smiling as they watched Arnol head towards his dad. And my dad stood tall and proud, ready to welcome his son after a job well done.
I think of this instance often. I reflect on the poise and pride in my dad’s stance and the love he felt for Arnol. Arnol accomplished what he was able to do. He would never be a football star or a great musician or an A student, but he could pass the sacrament and my dad was proud of that.
I think this must be similar to how our Heavenly Father is. He knows each of our capabilities and each of our limitations. He knows the burdens that we are called upon to bear. And whether we are physically disabled or have any other kind of disability, when we go to meet Him, He will greet us with love for accomplishing the things He knows we are capable of.

1 Isn’t your little brother getting baptized next week, Ramón?
Yeah, I envy him.
How come?
2 Because he’ll be a hundred percent sin-free, and I’ve made my share of goofs since I was baptized.
Yeah, like that last shot you took. But don’t you remember what Sister Simon told us about the sacrament?
3 I guess not. What’d she say?
She said that if we have faith in Christ and repent of our sins, then when we take the sacrament each Sunday, it’s like being baptized again.
4 That’s right—I remember now. She said that we renew the covenants we made when we were baptized.
Wow! If I repent I can be as squeaky clean as my little brother.
5 The next Sunday
6 In Primary Class
You’re right, Ramón. And if you keep the covenants you renewed today, you’ll continue to have his Spirit to be with you.

Mary Jane took a deep breath and smiled as she hurried along the muddy path on the way home from school. It was springtime in the year 1852, and a soft, cool breeze was blowing over the Irish Sea.
She was remembering that warm feeling when a gust of wind blew a strand of her long black hair across her face. Mary Jane pushed it back. “I wish I had a pretty blue ribbon to tie my hair back,” she thought.
Just then, Mary Jane almost stepped in a puddle on the path. As she started to walk around it, she saw something bright in the water. She stopped and looked closely. It looked like a coin.
Finding a long stick, Mary Jane carefully raked out the coin. And it was a valuable one. “Lucky me!” she thought. “What should I buy with it?” Then the wind reminded her. “A long blue ribbon,” she thought. “That is what I will buy.” Slipping the coin into her pocket, she hurried home.
When she opened the front door, Mary Jane saw that the missionaries were visiting her family. The younger children were sitting quietly, and a reverent feeling filled the room. Mary Jane’s family loved the missionaries, who had come all the way to Ireland to bring them the gospel. Father said the missionaries came without purse or scrip. That meant they came without money and with only the clothes they were wearing. Today they had brought good news. Some other families in the village were going to join the Church!
Mary Jane’s father invited the elders to stay for supper. As they gathered around the table, everyone was smiling. Mary Jane liked to hear the elders ask for a blessing on the food. It gave her a “Sunday feeling.”
After dinner, Mama served dessert in the parlor. She had baked a cake and made candy frosting. As one of the elders sat down and stretched out his long legs with his shoes turned upward, Mary Jane and her father looked at each other in surprise. The soles of the elder’s shoes were worn through with large holes.
Father went to the kitchen, and Mary Jane followed him. Father reached to the top shelf of the cupboard where they kept money. But as he looked at the coins in his hand, he had a sad face. It was not enough to buy a new pair of shoes for the elder.
Mary Jane reached her hand into her pocket and placed her coin in Father’s hand. “Now is there enough?” she asked softly.
Father looked surprised. He was silent for a long moment. Then in a husky voice he answered, “Yes, dear. That is just right.” Father put his arm around Mary Jane, and she had the same warm feeling she had felt at her baptism.

One day my father, who was bishop of our ward, left my brother and me to do some work. We thought he would be gone for a long time doing his church work. But he returned sooner than we had expected and found us riding calves.
When he called us over, I will never forget how he looked at me and said, “My boy, I thought I could depend on you!”
That was a great lesson, a severe punishment, to me. I decided then that neither he nor anyone else would ever have reason to say that again to me as long as I lived.

Some years ago, while living in Arizona, the company that I worked for gave me the responsibility to organize and direct a week-long high school youth tour of Washington, D.C. This became an annual event that required months of planning and organization. It was no small task to bring 30 to 40 students and chaperones to our nation's capital for a week-long tour.
The hard part was to make all the preliminary arrangements for flights, hotel rooms, tour busses and other accommodations. Once that was accomplished, the actual trip itself was always enjoyable and rewarding. Many of the students had never been to Washington, D.C. before and it was a real pleasure to take them there and enjoy the wonderful and interesting sights the capital city has to offer.
One of the highlights of the tour was to visit the impressive monuments located along the National Mall. It was always an inspiring sight to see the Washington, Jefferson and Lincoln Memorials and to reflect on the remarkable accomplishments of these men. There were many other monuments to visit. All of them brought deep feelings of gratitude and veneration for the founders and protectors of our nation.
Out of all the monuments, one in particular stood out to me. This was the Vietnam Veteran's memorial which honors the men and women who served in the Vietnam War. The Memorial is made up of two massive rock walls more than 200 feet long. The smooth, black, stone walls have been polished to the point that they appear as giant mirrors sunk into the ground with the earth behind them. Engraved on these reflective walls are the names of fellow Americans who gave their lives in service to their country. More than 58,200 names are permanently chiseled in the gleaming stone.
When I visited this memorial for the first time, I noticed a distinctive change in the way the tourists approached it and viewed it. The normal chatter from visitors diminished and the whole area seemed to invoke a quiet reverence as each visitor began to move down the slightly sloping path along this wall.
Some of the visitors left notes, flowers and other sentimental items near this wall. Others placed small pieces of paper over specific names and with the use of pencils carefully produced rubbings of the names of loved ones and friends. Although the wall was designed in a simplistic style, it seemed to have a remarkable capacity to beckoned each visitor to stop, reflect and examine it closely. I have never forgotten my first visit to the Vietnam Memorial. I have been privileged to return many times over the years. Each time I visit, it always invokes the same attitude of reverence, honor and gratitude.
A question came to my mind. Why? Why did this particular memorial invoke such powerful feelings of respect and veneration from the visitors? Certainly it was because these were common ordinary people who were willing to do uncommon things and lay down their lives in valor and service for their country. But perhaps it was something else. The Wall gives tribute to each name individually. For me the names became more powerful than the artwork or canvas they were written on. There is a reverence that comes when each individual name is distinguished, respected and valued.

This summer I was invited to speak on the subject of the family to a gathering of United Nations diplomats. I agonized over what to say to such a diverse group. In the end I simply shared my personal experience. I explained that my parents had taught me as a child that personal virtue was essential for a happy marriage and family and that in my youth I had made promises to God that I would live a chaste life.

I then acknowledged that I was about to turn 50 and that, though I had not yet married, I had kept my promise. “It hasn’t always been easy to stay morally clean,” I admitted, “but it has been far easier than the alternative. I have never spent one second worrying about an unwanted pregnancy or disease. I have never had a moment’s anguish because a man used and then discarded me. And when I do marry, I will do so without regret. So you see,” I concluded, “I believe a moral life is actually an easier and a happier life.”

I worried about how this sophisticated audience would respond to a message about virtue and abstinence, but much to my surprise they leapt to their feet in applause—not because of me but because the Spirit had borne witness of the truth of that message.

I’ve found this principle to be true in my own life. I recently found a note on my phone and was transported back to 2018. I was 29-years-old and single. My sister who is five years younger than me had just given birth to her first child, my first niece and while I was so happy for her and thrilled to be an aunt, I struggled to understand why I wasn’t married and having children of my own. I’d poured myself for three years into a job I loved at the Deseret News in an attempt to compensate for these other hopes and dreams that didn’t seem to be working out, but even that had taken a negative turn and I’d switched jobs to work at Deseret Book in a role that didn’t seem to have a clear direction. I’d briefly dated someone that seemed promising which only led to more heartbreak and discouragement. I remember very clearly one day working my brand-new job surrounded by strangers trying to cover up the tears that were dripping onto my computer keyboard.
Two months into that job though, we had an idea for a podcast called “All In.” That podcast changed my life. Among other things, it gave me greater professional purpose than I’d experienced previously, filled my life with the wisdom of dedicated disciples of Jesus Christ, and ultimately led to my meeting my husband.

“A few weeks after my family tried out for the pageant, we each got letters telling us that we all made it. My dad was assigned to be Joseph in the scene of 12-year-old Jesus in the temple, my mom got to be Mary, and I played Jesus. When I looked at our letters again, I couldn’t believe it! I know Jesus lives and the Church is true, and I’m glad I got to be a missionary by being in the Easter pageant.”–Tyler Starr, 12

I was born in Fontana, California. Both my mother and father struggled with substance abuse, and they divorced when I was 18 months old. As I grew up, I found fellowship and safety in each of the four Christian churches within walking distance of my home. When I was 13, I watched an advertisement for a free Book of Mormon and decided to order it. This eventually led to my baptism in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My parents didn’t seem to care one way or the other about my joining the Church.
About a year later, I attended a special youth fireside where the stake patriarch spoke about patriarchal blessings. I had never heard of them. I was only 14 at the time, and I figured it would at least be another two years before I was mature enough to even think about getting mine.
Two weeks later, Brother Clark, my neighbor, was driving me to early-morning seminary and said, “Thomas, Sister Clark and I have been thinking about you and wonder how you felt about the patriarchal blessing fireside.”
“Getting a patriarchal blessing sounds wonderful,” I said. “I hope to get one when I’m mature and ready!”
“You could start thinking about getting one sooner,” he said. “It can really help you through difficult circumstances.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” I replied, “but I’m afraid if I got it too soon, it wouldn’t be everything I wanted it to be.”
A few days passed, and Brother Clark brought it up again. “I know we’re only your neighbors and don’t have the right to receive revelation for you, but we believe you should get your blessing.”
Though I was touched by his thoughtfulness, I was still unsure. However, the following Sunday, my bishop called me into his office and said, “Thomas, Brother Clark has told me his feelings about your blessing. I have prayed about it, and I agree with him. I feel very strongly that you should get your patriarchal blessing. Please reconsider.”
With all the courage I could muster, I said, “OK, I’ll do it. I hope I’m ready.”
“I’m glad,” the bishop replied, “because I made you an appointment with the patriarch this evening.”
The blessing was a sacred experience, and Heavenly Father exceeded my desires that day. But this isn’t where my story ends.
Five days later, I received the hard copy of my blessing in the mail. That same day, my mother and stepfather sat me down and informed me that they had made some decisions. In the time since my baptism, they had built up a great dislike toward my membership in the Church. They told me they were sending me to my dad’s house in Las Vegas and handed me a bus ticket.
The following day, I arrived at my dad’s. The first thing I did was look up the nearest meetinghouse for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. But my dad yelled, “You are no longer a Mormon! Got that? John Smith was not a prophet, and the bronze plates are a hoax!” He then took my scriptures and Church magazines and wouldn’t allow me to talk to anyone from the Church.
I went to my room devastated. But I suddenly remembered the envelope I had tucked into my jacket pocket the day before. My patriarchal blessing! My parents had taken a lot of things, but they didn’t know anything about patriarchal blessings. I was overjoyed.
For the next three and a half years, I wasn’t allowed to set foot in a Latter-day Saint building. Having my patriarchal blessing was crucial for me during this time.
I know that God could foresee the struggle I would have in the coming years in high school and beyond. I am so glad I did not put off receiving my blessing because of my fears and assumptions. My patriarchal blessing truly is a great blessing from my Father in Heaven.
The author lives in Virginia, USA.

Eliana Verges de Lerda, a member of the Church in Argentina, met her friend Anabel when they were both six years old. Their friendship grew as they went to school together. During that time, Eliana never hid the fact that she was a member of the Church.
“I felt very comfortable talking about the gospel with Anabel, even though we didn’t share the same beliefs,” she says.
When the girls were 14, Anabel agreed to listen to the missionaries, but she decided not to be baptized.
Eliana was disappointed, but this did not stop her from continuing their friendship; nor did it stop the gospel discussions. A few years later, Eliana invited Anabel to attend seminary with her. During the lesson, Anabel felt the Spirit very strongly. As Eliana prepared to go to the temple a few days later, Anabel told her, “I promise to go with you next time.” Anabel was baptized a short time after.
Anabel’s conversion did not take days; it took years. The process was possible because Eliana was her friend first—regardless of whether or not Anabel felt an interest in accepting the gospel.

Many years ago, as I began serving as head coach of the Ricks College men's and women's cross country teams, I reflected on my experience as a distance runner and assistant coach. I had observed runners--inferior in talent to their peers--often out-perform these peers in key races. I had also observed talented runners who ran well, race after race. What was it about these runners that enabled them to experience consistent success? In what ways did they focus internally to get the most from what they did physically? As a young coach I concluded if I could figure out what consistently successful runners focused their thoughts on as they prepared for and ran races and teach this in a way those I coached could learn and passionately apply, then as individuals, as teams, and as a program we would realize greater success and be happier with the results.

One of the most foundational of these success principles is to have a clear understanding of your purpose. Understanding a strong, well-defined purpose empowers you to succeed. It strengthens your resolve and commitment, energizes you to get through obstacles, and focuses your efforts as you proceed along your chosen path. The first step to understanding your purpose is to discover what it is.

At one of our team meetings at the first of each cross country season, I would invite then college president, Elder David Bednar, to speak to our athletes. One of the first questions he would ask them was, "What do you think is the purpose of our cross country program at Ricks College?" After listening to their responses, he would clarify, "There is really only one reason why we have athletics at Ricks College and that is so others may see Christ's image engraven in your countenances."[2] He would then invite each of our team members to embrace the Honor Code, to live by both the letter and spirit for which it was given. He would also promise our athletes that as they diligently strove to realize that purpose, the Lord would strengthen them to perform beyond their natural abilities.[3] Understanding that purpose, buying into it as if it was their own, and exercising faith to receive the promised blessings, our athletes and teams radiated the light of Christ and were empowered to experience great success.

Joseph Smith gave enthusiastic support to a “Young Gentlemen’s and Young Ladies Relief Society of Nauvoo,” which developed under Heber C. Kimball’s guiding hand. It began simply as a small and casual discussion gathering. But week by week more youth came and bigger and bigger meeting places were arranged. Once when the group met in the large room above the Prophet’s store, he came to speak to them. He praised Elder Kimball for helping organize this “good and glorious work,” complimented the youth on their good conduct, “and taught them how to behave in all places, explained to them their duties, and advised them to organize themselves into a society for the relief of the poor.” Specifically, he asked them to fund and then build a house for a brother who was lame. In response, the youth drew up a constitution, elected officers, called monthly meetings, and opened their membership to anyone under age thirty in Nauvoo, LDS or not, including young men and “the tender, lovely, and beautiful females of our city.”

May I take a few moments at this session of our conference to discuss what I believe is perhaps the most misunderstood meeting of all the meetings that convene in the Church. I refer to the bishop’s court. I would like to begin by relating a story.
The brief episode I am about to relate is true, and the facts are accurate because those who were present will never forget them.
The hour was very late; the room was quiet except for the audible sobs of a young man who had just received the verdict of a Church court. Justice had taken its true course. There was apparently no alternative. The unanimous decision, following serious deliberation, fasting, and prayer, was excommunication.
After several minutes, a weary face looked up, and the young man’s voice broke the silence as he said, “I have just lost the most precious thing in my life, and nothing will stand in my way until I have regained it.”
The process leading up to the court was not an easy one. Certainly, courage is a most important factor for every person who has seriously slipped but wants to get back on the Lord’s side.
After the meeting was finished, the communications that followed the young man’s dramatic statement of hope for the future were so reassuring. From some there were firm promises of help during the ensuing months of continuing repentance; from others a pat on the back and a handshake, with an eye-to-eye assurance that conveyed a feeling of confidence and the hand of fellowship. There was complete knowledge among all present at that meeting that all could be regained in the life of this young man if it were done in the Lord’s way.
This young man had just taken his first giant step back. As an excommunicated member of the Church and with his heart determined to make things right, he was far better off than just a few days before with his membership record intact but carrying deceit in his heart that seemed to shout the word hypocrite with every move he made toward doing something in the Church.
This episode took place a few years ago. The young man’s pledge has been fulfilled, and in my opinion, no member of the Church stands on ground more firm than the man who has had the courage to unburden himself to his priesthood authority and to set things in order with his Master. What a relief to have once again the peace of mind that “passeth all understanding.”

Barbara had lived in a new ward for only a few months when the pandemic began. Like so many, she discovered that her plans had been turned upside down. She thought meeting new friends would be a wonderful experience, but instead it became a struggle. During a time of isolation, patterns of ministering had to change. She didn’t have much of a chance to get to know the members of her new ward. She asked herself, “How do I visit, serve, help, and love sisters when visiting someone isn’t possible? Even sending a text is hard when sisters don’t recognize my name or number because I’m new.”
She found it even more important to pray and listen for promptings in such circumstances. Sometimes she felt prompted to simply drop off a note. Other times she sent a text to thank a sister for her prayer in sacrament meeting or to express appreciation for the testimony of another sister’s husband. An occasional socially distanced visit on someone’s front porch helped fill her need for seeing and talking in person. One prompting led her to think of a comforting, delicious bowl of butternut squash soup, so she dropped off the recipe and a butternut squash.
It’s not how she had hoped things would go when she moved in. Isolation made the process of getting to know her sisters slower. But as she followed President Nelson’s counsel to increase her spiritual capacity to receive revelation, she overcame challenges, became a better ministering sister, and formed some close friendships.

A true story from the USA.
Savannah pulled the blankets over her head. Today had been a really bad day.
During school today, Savannah couldn’t focus on anything. She had felt tired, frustrated, and sad. There was a heavy weight in her stomach that wouldn’t go away. By the end of the day, all she wanted to do was crawl under her desk and hide.
Lately, Savannah felt sad almost all of the time. Her friends had tried to cheer her up, but sometimes Savannah didn’t want to be with them. They always seemed so happy. Sometimes she thought they would be happier without her.
What’s wrong with me? Savannah wondered. Why can’t I be happy like everyone else?
She felt as cold and lonely as the gray clouds outside. And now she just wanted to sleep.
Savannah heard her bedroom door open.
“Savannah,” Mom said, sitting on the edge of the bed, “what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Savannah said. “I’m just tired.”
“Are you sure?” Mom asked. “I’m worried about you.”
“I’m OK,” Savannah said.
“All right.” Mom stood up. “Just remember that you can talk to me about anything. I love you.”
Savannah stayed in bed until dinner. That night, she couldn’t fall asleep. Her brain wouldn’t stop thinking about everything.
The next day she still felt worn out. It was another long day. Savannah got home from school and sat at the kitchen table. She sighed and looked out the window. It was snowing again.
“Savannah?”
Savannah turned and was surprised to see Grandma come into the room.
“Hi, Grandma,” Savannah said. “What are you doing here?”
Grandma sat down. “Your mom wanted me to come,” she said. “She’s worried about you.”
“I’ve just been really tired. I’m fine, though,” Savannah said.
Grandma smiled gently. “Did I ever tell you about the summer Grandpa and I moved?”
“I don’t think so,” Savannah said.
“I was sad all the time,” Grandma said. “I wanted to be happy, but I just didn’t care about anything. I felt so lonely.”
“But you had Grandpa and my mom.” Savannah looked down at her shoes. “Why would you feel lonely?”
“I couldn’t figure out what was happening,” Grandma said. “I had never felt that way before. I eventually went to the doctor.”
“What happened?”
Grandma put an arm around her. “I learned I have depression.”
“Oh, so you just felt sad?” Savannah asked.
“No, depression is more than just feeling sad,” Grandma explained. “My sadness didn’t seem to go away. I struggled to do all the things I normally did. And I had a hard time connecting with other people, even my own family. I really needed help.”
Savannah looked up. “What kind of help?”
“The doctor explained what was wrong, and we made a plan together to help me feel better,” Grandma said. “But sometimes I still felt sad. I spent a lot of time praying. When I was lonely, I imagined the Savior sitting beside me. I felt better thinking about Him.”
Savannah looked at the snow outside and shivered. “I feel sad a lot too. I try to feel happy, but sometimes I just can’t, and then I’m mad at myself for feeling that way.”
“I know, honey.” Grandma gave Savannah a hug. “That’s how I feel sometimes too. But you’re not alone. I love you, your parents love you, and Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ love you. They understand your pain and will never leave you.”
Maybe Grandma is right, Savannah thought. I’m not alone. The weight in Savannah’s stomach didn’t feel quite as heavy.
“I think I should talk to Mom,” Savannah said. “She wants to help me too.”
“That’s a great idea.” Grandma took Savannah’s hand.
Savannah smiled and leaned on Grandma’s shoulder. She didn’t feel quite so cold and lonely anymore.

In 2008, he met Fleur and fell deeply in love. Gabin remembers, “I found a girl!” Fleur had a daughter, Eve, and he fell in love with her, too. Fleur and Eve usually attended a local Protestant congregation, but throughout their courtship, he taught them missionary lessons. They started attending his Sunday meetings and family home evenings on Mondays. Gabin and Fleur were married in 2013 in a civil ceremony.

At the beginning of 2014, Gabin found an article online reporting that Elder David A. Bednar, of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, had a few months earlier been in Libreville. It was just after the Gabonese government had officially recognized the Church and had permitted the beginning of missionary activities. Elder Bednar had dedicated the country of Gabon for the preaching of the gospel and he had organized the Libreville Branch. Gabin was stunned. For more than eight years he had likely been the only endowed member of the Church living in Gabon and suddenly there was a branch organized in his home city.
Using an email address found in the article, Gabin wrote to the Africa Southeast Area office, asking questions about the Church situation in Libreville. Elie Monga, president of the Brazzaville mission in the Republic of Congo, was informed and a few days later, while at work, Gabin received a visit from Elder Michael Moody, the first senior missionary to serve in Gabon.
After their initial greeting, Gabin said to Elder Moody, “I have a few questions. First, where can I pay my tithing?” For more than eight years, Gabin had carefully kept his tithing money in a small box.
“Second,” he asked, “Where can I buy new temple garments? Eight years ago, I brought a few to Libreville, and every night since I have been carefully hand washing them.” Elder Moody went to the car, opened his suitcase, and gave Gabin a brand-new pair of garments that he had been prompted to pack in his travel case that morning.
The next Sunday, Gabin, Fleur, Eve, Gabin’s nephew Yann, plus Annaïck and Pauline, Fleur’s nieces were six of the ten people sitting in the Libreville Branch sacrament meeting. Fleur was taught the missionary lessons and shortly afterward was baptized and confirmed a member of the Church. And so were Eve, Yann, Annaïck, and Pauline.
In 2015, Gabin adopted Eve. And later that year the three of them—Gabin, Fleur, and Eve—flew to Johannesburg, South Africa, where this unlikely story concludes with significant eternal consequences. Fleur received her endowment, she and Gabin were sealed together, and Eve was sealed to them both in the Johannesburg South Africa Temple.
In 2016, Elie Monga, president of the Republic of Congo Brazzaville Mission, travelled to Libreville to preside over a division of the Libreville Branch. Gabin Mendene was called to serve as president of the Libreville 2nd Branch. Shortly afterward, while attending district conference, Elder Kevin S. Hamilton—former Brussels Belgium mission president and now a General Authority Seventy and president of the Africa Southeast Area—looked out from his seat on the rostrum. And sitting there in the middle of the congregation was someone he had not seen in ten years—a patient man with an extraordinary conversion story and a church pioneer in Africa—Gabin from Gabon.