Gospel Story Finder

New Era: Was there ever a time in your life when you were discouraged and felt that baseball wasn’t for you?
Brother Killibrew: Yes, I’ve had setbacks. I think everyone at some point in life experiences disappointments, no matter what field he is in. I’m no exception. In the early years of my career, I was moved around quite a bit, and I got really discouraged.
I was really down. I told my wife that I was convinced I could play major league baseball, but that I had to prove it to everyone else. I had two choices: give up and quit right there or try to prove to them that I could play major league ball. This was the low point in my career. The next year I had a good year in Chattanooga. Then I played for Washington, and I have stayed in the major leagues since then.
I learned a lot through all of this. There is a statement that every baseball player hears a lot: “Just try to meet the ball.” Well, for me that is not the way to do it. I feel that you’ve got to really attack the ball and swing with some authority—and that is what I try to do. When I’m up, I try to hit the ball hard and let it go where it will. And I think life is a little like that. There is no use taking a half-hearted swing at anything.

At the rear of the sun-drenched chapel, behind the last row of chairs, a man squats on the floor happily bottle-feeding a baby. It’s not his baby. He’s just “borrowed” it from its mother. It gives her a chance to concentrate on the Gospel Doctrine lesson and gives him the pleasure of cradling a baby in his arms.
The man is Wisit Khanakam, president of the Chiang Mai District, Thailand, and the loving care he gives the baby is typical of the loving care he gives the five hundred members in the three branches he serves.
The members know that President Khanakam lives the gospel principles he teaches. In his home the day before, he said, “If there is one thing that helps me and my family stay active in the Church, it is living the gospel. That’s not just praying, not just studying the scriptures, not just serving in a calling, but applying all the gospel principles to our daily lives.
“For example, the Church teaches us how to build love and unity in the family—mother and father and the children helping each other. Just like today,” he says, “my wife had to go to work this afternoon. I had to work in the morning, but I came home in the afternoon to care for our two children, do some laundry, and wash the dishes.”
As he speaks, his seven-year-old daughter, Wisuchalak (nicknamed Buang), sleepily walks into the room from an afternoon nap. Seeing her father is busy, she turns on the television. Although she chooses a children’s program, it contains some rather frightening animation. Her father walks over to her, puts his arm around her, quietly explains that the program really isn’t suitable for her to watch, and successfully encourages her to go outside and play with her eight-year-old brother, Wisoodthiporn, or Ben. “We call him Ben after King Benjamin in the Book of Mormon,” explains President Khanakam.
“There are many things to do in the home,” he says. “It is the activities we do together as a family that help build our testimonies and strengthen us spiritually. For example, my wife is very good at preserving the oranges and mangoes we grow. We get the children involved in gathering the fruit and preparing it for storage. We also work together to keep family records—individual journals, as well as a family history.”
Teachers by profession, President and Sister Khanakam used family prayer and their training to help their son overcome what appeared to be a learning disability. “His teachers said he was very slow intellectually, and so we first thought of providing him with a tutor at home. But then we prayed about the problem, and we realized that the best teachers for our son were his mother and father. Our decision, based on the answer to our prayers, is turning out well. Ben is happy that his mother and father understand his needs and want to help him. As we help him with his school work, he is improving and learning faster. And it gives us the opportunity to grow closer together.”
The closeness of the family now is in contrast to the separation that employment forced upon Brother and Sister Khanakam after they were married in 1981. “A month after our marriage, we were sealed in the Tokyo Temple. When we came home, I returned to Chiang Mai, where I had a good-paying teacher’s position, and my wife returned to her family home in Mahasarakham 830 kilometers away. We lived that way for about a year. But the full-time missionaries would keep asking me, ‘Wisit, do you have the faith the Lord will bless you if you keep your temple covenants? You need to be with your wife.’
“So I quit my job in Chiang Mai and found one in Mahasarakham. I was earning less than half what I had made in Chiang Mai. That’s when we learned to apply welfare principles in our family. We learned how to budget our income, to work with our hands, and to raise a family in the gospel.
“I was called as president of the Mahasarakham branch, and my wife was called as Relief Society president. I was the only male member in the branch. It took a couple of years for the membership to grow. Now they have a chapel of their own—not because of anything we did, but because of the love and unity that the people there have.”
Before moving to Mahasarakham, Brother Khanakam served as Chiang Mai District President, a calling he received again when he returned to Chiang Mai three years ago to teach at the local high school.
The Khanakams live in a house outside the city of Chiang Mai on family property that contains fruit trees and about three acres of rice paddy. “We hire some people to grow the rice and then give the crop to my mother.”
His relationship with his mother is greatly improved from the days twenty years ago when he first made contact with Latter-day Saint missionaries.
He was introduced by a friend to the English language classes the missionaries presented. That led to the discussions and an invitation to attend Church.
“I attended the investigators’ class. What I heard there made little sense to me at first. I was an active Buddhist in a family of active Buddhists. But the name of Jesus touched my heart. I remember as a boy hearing Protestant missionaries talk of Jesus and Christianity. My parents and relatives did not like Christians and they said harsh things about them and about Jesus. I couldn’t help but wonder about this man Jesus. What happened to him? Why did my family talk only of bad things about him?
“So when the missionaries talked to me of Jesus, I decided to invite them to my cousin’s home where I was living while going to school. He and his family listened to some of the discussions, but then stopped.
“I continued with the discussions and with attending church, and I finally gained a testimony.
“I was baptized when I was eighteen years old.
“When I told my mother that I had been baptized, she became very upset, and she cut me from the family. I was the ‘baby’ in the family, with three older brothers and an older sister. From that time on, I suffered a great deal of persecution from my family, and I left home.
“Knowing of my situation, the branch president wisely counseled me that if I loved God I would want to obey his commandments and show love and respect for my parents. The Lord would bless me, the president said, if I would return home and be an example of Christian living to my family.
“When I went home, my mother said, ‘What do you need? A mattress, pillows, or anything? I’ll give them to you, but you can’t stay here with us.’
“But I told her I loved her and my father and my brothers and my sister, and I wanted to stay. The family was very upset, and no one would talk to me. But apart from going to school, I stayed home and worked very hard doing whatever I could around the house, or around the property.
“When I completed high school I wanted to go to the university. My mother said, ‘Tell me you are not a Mormon and I will let you go to the university. If you tell me you are a Mormon, you will never go to school.’ I said, ‘Mother, I am a Mormon.’ ‘That’s enough,’ she said.
“I didn’t even try to take the entrance examination.”
Instead, Brother Khanakam studied at the English Language Center in Chiang Mai, and eventually he successfully applied for a position with an American professor studying in Thailand. Later, with his mother’s approval, he attended the university in Bangkok for almost four years.
“Although my father died at this time, the university was a good experience for me. But I always made sure that the campus activities would not interfere with my church attendance. My friends urged me to serve a mission. Although I didn’t have a personal testimony of being a missionary, I encouraged others to go.
“After the university, I taught in public schools to earn some money and then decided I would go on a mission. When I told my mother, she was very, very angry with me. She contacted her attorney and had me cut from her will. She told me, ‘Choose what you want: your family or your church.’ I told her I wanted to serve a mission for the Lord. ‘All right,’ she said, ‘but you’ll get no support from the family.’”
Brother Khanakam served in the Thailand Bangkok Mission, where he had “many good experiences.” One of these experiences involved his mother and his sister. They were visiting in Bangkok, and Brother Khanakam invited them to a fireside where Elder Jacob de Jager of the Seventy was speaking.
“I was asked to be his interpreter. I knelt with him and prayed for my family. In his talk, Elder de Jager made some complimentary comments about my family. I looked at my mother, and she was crying. Even my sister, who had been so opposed to my joining the Church that she almost shot me, was crying, too. After the fireside my mother said if there was anything she could do to support me on my mission I was to let her know. I know that she was touched that day by the Spirit.
“My relationship with my family is good now. They love me, and they love my wife and children. My mother lives in a house close to us.”
While on his mission, Brother Khanakam first met a newly called lady missionary, Sumamaan Srisarakham. Three years after his mission, he made contact with her again through a mutual friend, and they began a correspondence. When they started talking of marriage, Sister Srisarakham prayed for guidance and felt as though “the Savior’s hand was on my head confirming my decision to marry and have a family.”
Currently, Sister Khanakam serves as the district Relief Society president and teaches a Primary class in the Chiang Mai Branch.
“What we do within the four walls of our home is most important to us and to those we can influence for good,” says President Khanakam. “For example, a neighboring couple has been taking the missionary discussions and now permits their son to attend church with us. This has come about because they liked what they saw in us as a family. As a family, as Latter-day Saints everywhere, we can perfect our lives through living the gospel.”

Yearning to find the truth, Wilford Woodruff attended many religious meetings in the area around his home. At one such gathering, permission was given for anyone in the congregation to speak. Young Wilford stood, knowing that 40 or more ministers of various churches were in attendance. He stepped into the aisle and said:

“My friends, will you tell me why you don’t contend for the faith once delivered to the Saints? Will you tell me why you don’t contend for that Gospel that Jesus Christ taught, and that His Apostles taught? Why do you not contend for that religion that gives unto you power before God, power to heal the sick, to make the blind to see, the lame to walk, and that gives you the Holy Ghost and those gifts and graces that have been manifest from the creation of the world? Why do you not teach the people those principles that the ancient Patriarchs and Prophets taught while they were clothed with the revelations of God? They had the administrations of angels; they had dreams and visions, and constant revelation to guide and direct them in the path in which they should walk.”

The people at the meeting must have been surprised to hear such bold language from such a young man. Immediately, the presiding minister tried to discount the ideas Wilford Woodruff had shared. “My dear young man,” he said, “you would be a very smart man, and a very useful man in the earth, if you did not believe all those foolish things. These things were given to the children of men in the dark ages of the world. … Today we live in the blaze of the glorious gospel light, and we do not need those things.”

Unconvinced by this minister’s comments, Wilford replied, “Then give me the dark ages of the world; give me those ages when men received these principles.”3

We were so happy, every Sunday attending sacrament meeting and seeing the love the members of the Church showed us. My mom and I waited for my father who was working in Dubai to come and be baptized, and my brother was studying in Vijayawada where there is no Church. Fortunately, a home group was started in Vijayawada and missionaries from Rajahmundry went there and taught him. I baptized him. The day came that my father arrived from his work the missionaries met him, taught him, and invited him to be baptized, but he had an issue with the Word of Wisdom. Finally, he overcame it with the help of the missionaries and he also joined the Church. My brother baptized him. Now all four members in our family have joined the Church and have seen many miracles in our lives.

I have always loved the story of the son of King Louis XVI of France because he had an unshakable knowledge of his identity. As a young man, he was kidnapped by evil men who had dethroned his father, the king. These men knew that if they could destroy him morally, he would not be heir to the throne. For six months they subjected him to every vile thing life had to offer, and yet he never yielded under pressure. This puzzled his captors, and after doing everything they could think of, they asked him why he had such great moral strength. His reply was simple. He said, “I cannot do what you ask, for I was born to be a king.”

I was born in a tiny peninsula on an island south of India called Sri Lanka. Growing up there, I was fascinated with American football. I was five when I got my first football and learned how to play with the plushy ball. But my parents were not able to put me on a football team due to financial problems.
Years later, my family moved to New York, USA. Going into high school, I finally had a chance to get into an official team for free. There was one specific requirement: I had to go to football camp for a month, which meant no church for a month. On top of that, I had games on Sundays.
I was very upset and had no idea what to do. I prayed every day for an answer. One evening, I read a talk from President Ezra Taft Benson (1899–1994) where he said, “We must put God in the forefront of everything else in our lives” (“The Great Commandment: Love the Lord,” Apr. 1988 general conference). This struck me so hard that as soon as I read that, I knelt down and thanked the Lord for giving me an answer. I told my parents that I wasn’t going to play football. They supported me through everything. I still am grateful I made that decision.

The Balancing Girl and Margaret’s Moves Margaret always needs money. In The Balancing Girl, her booth at the school carnival brings in more money for her school than any other. In Margaret’s Moves, she needs money for a sportsmodel wheelchair so that she can move as fast as her brother. By the end of summer, she has earned only $33.30 (the chair costs $1,000) and has learned that even if she had the chair, she still couldn’t keep up with her brother. But in a surprising way, things work out.

Scott ran home from the bus stop. It was Friday! He could have friends over, play games, and—best of all—spend time with Dad.
Dad had been working long hours lately. He left before Scott woke up and didn’t come home until after bedtime. But Dad always saved the weekends for family and church.
“Mom!” Scott called as he came through the door. “Can I invite Cayden to come over and play?” Mom had just put down the phone, and Scott stopped when he saw the serious expression on her face.
“First I need to talk to you,” Mom said. “There’s been another hurricane, this time in Louisiana, and Dad’s been asked to help with cleanup again.”
“Can I go with him?” Scott asked. Dad always came back from cleanup trips with interesting stories about serving and working. He had promised that when Scott got old enough he could come along.
Mom closed her eyes and sighed. “I’m glad you want to help,” she said. “But you still aren’t quite old enough, and your dad might not be able to go after all.”
What would keep Dad from going? Scott wondered. More work? Was he sick?
“Actually, whether or not Dad can go depends a lot on you,” Mom said. Scott’s eyebrows shot up.
“Why would it depend on me?” he asked.
“Remember how my foot has been hurting the past few days?” Mom asked. Scott nodded. He and his sisters had helped her with the ice packs and pillows she needed to help her foot feel better.
“Well, today I found out that it’s probably broken. I need to stay completely off of it while it heals.”
She paused for a minute, but Scott was already ahead of her. “So you need me and the others to help while Dad is gone? Like making meals and cleaning the house?”
Mom nodded.
“Will I be in charge?”
Mom smiled. “I’ll be in charge. But you’d be the head helper.” Her face looked serious again. “If it’s too much, Dad can stay home. I told him I thought you could handle it, but we wanted to ask you first. It would be your way of doing hurricane help, because if you help here, you’ll make it so he can help there.”
Now it was Scott’s turn to be serious. “Mom,” he said. “I can totally do this. You can count on me!”
Mom smiled and gave Scott a big hug.
On Saturday morning, Dad was already gone when Scott woke up. Mom called out advice as Scott made pancakes for his four younger siblings. Scott even made a car-shaped pancake for Michael. Later, for lunch, Scott made sandwiches.
“Do you want jelly or honey on your sandwich?” Scott asked Allison. She wanted jelly.
At dinner Scott asked Abigail to get the peas to go with the macaroni and cheese. “We have to be healthy and eat our vegetables,” he told her.
After each meal, everyone helped clear the table and wash the dishes. Scott swept the floor and made sure everyone played quietly so Mom could rest. That night he got everyone together for family prayers.
When Dad came home the next day, Scott and his siblings had a surprise for him. They had their own stories to share about working to help others.

God expresses His love for us by helping us to progress and reach our potential. Perhaps a simple story will illustrate this point. A young man could not get his computer to work properly. Soon he became discouraged. His temper grew short, and he threatened to destroy the computer. His wise father intervened and took his son to a local vendor to get an instruction manual. After all, who would know more about a computer than the person or company that created it? By working within the guidelines given in the instruction book, the boy soon enjoyed the full potential of his computer.

On Christmas Eve, 1997, I met a remarkable family. Each member of the family had an unshakable testimony of the truth and of the reality of the Resurrection. The family consisted of a mother and father and four children. Each of the children—three sons and a daughter—had been born with a rare form of muscular dystrophy, and each was handicapped. Mark, who was then 16 years old, had undergone spinal surgery in an effort to help him move about more freely. The other two boys—Christopher, age 13, and Jason, age 10—were to leave for California in a few days to undergo similar surgery. The only daughter, Shanna, was then five years old—a beautiful child. All of the children were intelligent and faith-filled, and it was obvious that their parents, Bill and Sherry, were proud of each one. We visited for a while, and the special spirit of that family filled my office and my heart. The father and I gave blessings to the two boys who were facing surgery, and then the parents asked if little Shanna could sing for me. Her father mentioned that she had diminished lung capacity and that it might be difficult for her, but that she wanted to try. To the accompaniment of a recorded cassette, and in a beautiful, clear voice—never missing a note—she sang of a brighter future:
On a beautiful day that I dream about
In a world I would love to see
Is a beautiful place where the sun comes out
And it shines in the sky for me.
On this beautiful winter’s morning,
If my wish could come true somehow,
Then the beautiful day that I dream about
Would be here and now.
The emotions of all of us were very near the surface as she finished. The spirituality of this visit set the tone for my Christmas that year.
I kept in touch with the family, and when the oldest son, Mark, turned 19, arrangements were made for him to serve a special mission at Church headquarters. Eventually, the other two brothers also had an opportunity to serve such missions.
Nearly a year ago, Christopher, who was then 22 years old, succumbed to the disease with which each of the children has been afflicted. And then, last September, I received word that little Shanna, now 14 years old, had passed away. At the funeral services, Shanna was honored by beautiful tributes. Leaning on the pulpit for support, each of her surviving brothers, Mark and Jason, shared poignant family experiences. Shanna’s mother sang a lovely musical number as part of a duet. Her father and grandfather gave touching sermons. Though their hearts were broken, each bore powerful and deep-felt testimony of the reality of the Resurrection and of the actuality that Shanna lives still, as does her brother Christopher, each awaiting a glorious reunion with their beloved family.
When it was my time to speak, I recounted that visit the family made to my office nearly nine years earlier and spoke of the lovely song Shanna sang on that occasion. I concluded with the thought: “Because our Savior died at Calvary, death has no hold upon any one of us. Shanna lives, whole and well, and for her that beautiful day she sang about on a special Christmas Eve in 1997, the day she dreamed about, is here and now.”

One morning several years ago I was driving with my family to Disney World in Florida. Our four young daughters were excited as we approached the turnoff to that famous park. The laughter and happy chatter stopped suddenly, however, as our rented station wagon sputtered and chugged to an unexpected stop on the exit ramp. Many cars sped by us in the rush-hour traffic as I tried to get the car running again. Finally, realizing there was nothing more we could do, we got out of the stalled car and huddled together off the road for a word of prayer.
As we looked up from our prayer, we saw a smiling, handsome man and his son maneuver their bright red sports car through the lanes of traffic and pull off the road beside us. For the rest of the morning and into the afternoon these men cared for our needs in many kind and helpful ways. They took us to the park. They helped me locate a tow truck; they drove me to the rental agency to get a replacement vehicle. They bought refreshments for my family and waited with them until I returned several hours later.
We felt that these men were truly an answer to our prayer, and we told them so as we thanked them. The father responded, “Every morning I tell the good Lord that if there is anyone in need of help today, please guide me to them.”

Shortly after my mission, while a student at Brigham Young University, I received a phone call from my dad. He told me that he had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and that although his chances of survival were not good, he was determined to be healed and return to his normal life activities. That phone call was a sobering moment for me. My dad had been my bishop, my friend, and my adviser. As my mother, my siblings, and I contemplated the future, it appeared bleak. My younger brother, Dave, was serving a mission in New York and participated long-distance in these difficult family events.
The medical providers of the day suggested surgery to try and curtail the spread of the cancer. Our family earnestly fasted and prayed for a miracle. I felt that we had sufficient faith that my father could be healed. Just prior to the surgery, my older brother, Norm, and I gave my dad a blessing. With all the faith we could muster, we prayed that he would be healed.
The surgery was scheduled to last many hours, but after just a short time, the doctor came to the waiting room to meet with our family. He told us that as they began the surgery, they could see that the cancer had spread throughout my father’s body. Based upon what they observed, my father had just a few months to live. We were devastated.
As my father awakened from the surgery, he was anxious to learn if the procedure had been successful. We shared with him the grim news.
We continued to fast and pray for a miracle. As my father’s health quickly declined, we began to pray that he could be free of pain. Eventually, as his condition worsened, we asked the Lord to allow him to pass quickly. Just a few months after the surgery, as predicted by the surgeon, my father did pass away.
Much love and care were poured out upon our family by ward members and family friends. We had a beautiful funeral that honored the life of my father. As time passed, however, and we experienced the pain of my father’s absence, I began to wonder why my father had not been healed. I wondered if my faith was not strong enough. Why did some families receive a miracle, but our family did not? I had learned on my mission to turn to the scriptures for answers, so I began to search the scriptures.
But here is the greater lesson I learned. I had mistakenly believed that the Savior’s healing power had not worked for my family. As I now look back with more mature eyes and experience, I see that the Savior’s healing power was evident in the lives of each of my family members. I was so focused on a physical healing that I failed to see the miracles that had occurred. The Lord strengthened and lifted my mother beyond her capacity through this difficult trial, and she led a long and productive life. She had a remarkable positive influence on her children and grandchildren. The Lord blessed me and my siblings with love, unity, faith, and resilience that became an important part of our lives and continues today.
But what about my dad? As with all who will repent, he was spiritually healed as he sought and received the blessings available because of the Savior’s Atonement. He received a remission of his sins and now awaits the miracle of the Resurrection. The Apostle Paul taught, “For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive.” You see, I was saying to the Savior, “We brought my dad to You to be healed,” and it is now clear to me that the Savior did heal him. The balm of Gilead worked for the Nielson family—not in the way that we had supposed, but in an even more significant way that has blessed and continues to bless our lives.

Can a clown fish from the Indian Ocean find happiness with an anemone from the Gulf of California? That is the question we asked ourselves as we watched our recently acquired Amphiprion bicinctus wriggle out of the plastic bag it had resided in for the past hour and into our aquarium. The salesman at the tropical fish store had assured us that the two of them would get along famously, but then that’s what he had also told us when we introduced a moray eel to our now seven-armed octopus!
The meeting in this instance was considerably less dramatic. After hovering around in an upper corner of the tank for a few minutes and being sized up by the other fish, the banded clown made her maiden voyage across the ten-foot expanse of our upstairs show tank. Scattered across this stretch of sand and coral are twelve different anemones that we have collected from the Gulf of California just south of Puerto Penasco, Mexico. We wondered which one the clown would choose for her own. Would it be one of the smaller reddish ones? Or would it be the large brown and purple one in the center of the tank? Or maybe several of them?
Throughout that first day we didn’t notice too much activity on the part of the clown fish directed toward any of the anemones. But then on the second day, we saw that she had taken up a semipermanent residence close by the large anemone near the center of the tank. And soon she was vigorously wriggling among the many tentacles of her newly claimed possession.
This close association between clown fish and anemones has been a topic of some controversy among observers of the symbiotic (living together) relationship for several years. It has usually been agreed that nestled among the tentacles of the anemone the clown is protected from its enemies. But what does the anemone reap from the association?
At various times it has been suggested that the clowns purposely provided anemones with food or even lured other fish toward the anemones’ grasping tentacles with their nematocysts (poisonous stingers). This view has been challenged, however, by the observation that although clown fish have been observed to bring large chunks of food to an anemone partner, they do not let the anemone eat it. Instead, they often tear at it as soon as the anemone has grasped it, feeding themselves with small portions they break away from the large chunk. In the end, the anemone is left with nothing.
Which view is true? We decided to find out for ourselves—and find out we did.
Our first step was to provide a suitable food source. A quick trip to a nearby pond supplied us with plenty of freshwater minnows. We introduced three of them to the tank. Immediately the water churned with activity as the community of marine fish began to subdivide the minnows for their lunch. But then, as if from out of nowhere, the banded clown darted into the melee and returned just as rapidly with one of the minnows intact in her mouth. The clown fish’s rapid wriggling reminded us all of the joyous wagging of a puppy’s tail as the puppy returns to its master with a stick it has retrieved.
Upon reaching the large brown and purple anemone, the clown fish actually shoved the minnow down into its outstretched tentacles. Immediately they responded to the stimulus and began to close about the prey. Assured that the minnow was securely trapped, the clown turned back to the fracas at the end of the tank. Once again she somehow managed to secure another minnow, and once again she wigwagged her way back to the blob of bloated protoplasm (organized living matter) that comprised the plump anemone. Plumper still with her second delivery, the anemone was soon to be truly gorged when the clown returned a third time with the last of the minnows.
On the following day, in the manner of true scientists, we proceeded to see if our observations were repeatable. And indeed they were. Not only did the clown fish again succeed in securing three minnows for the anemone, but she retrieved them when a sneaky Heniochus (pennant butterfly fish) stole them out of the anemone’s grip. And in no instance did the clown fish attempt to reclaim any of the minnows as her own.
It thus appears that the answer to our initial query about the banded clown and the displaced anemone is affirmative. An A. bicinctus can indeed find happiness with an anemone from the Gulf of California, and the association is most certainly mutually beneficial. What else can you say about a friend who brings you a three-course meal each day?

I never knew that winning a championship baseball game could make me so miserable. Well, actually, winning the game felt great. It wasn’t until afterward that I began to feel miserable. Coach announced that the regional play-off was just five days away. On Sunday!

Until a few weeks ago, it wouldn’t have mattered to me what day the play-off was. Then Mom and I began meeting with the LDS missionaries, and we liked what they were teaching us. We were even reading the Book of Mormon. We had talked about keeping the Sabbath holy, and I didn’t think that playing in ball games—even regional play-offs—was doing that. But how I wanted to play in that game!

Dad and Mom ran to meet me on the diamond. They were as excited about the victory as I had been at first. "Son, you were fantastic out there!" Dad crowed.

"I knew you’d do it, Kimball!" Then Mom looked at me closely and asked if I was OK.

Dad answered for me. "Sure. He’s fine—just a little tired after a game like that. What he needs now is some celebrating. How about going to the Palace for a pizza?"

I didn’t worry about the game for the rest of the evening—no one worries about anything when Dad is around. If I ever want to be cheered up, I go to him. But if I ever need help with problems, Mom is the one I talk to.

While waiting for our pizza, Dad "interviewed" me. Picking up a breadstick, he pointed it at me, saying, "Don’t be afraid of the microphone, young man. Speak right into it and describe exactly how you made that fantastic catch."

That night, when Mom came in to say good night, all my concerns returned.

"All right, Kimball, out with it. Something happened at the baseball game, didn’t it?"

"Coach told us that regional play-offs are this Sunday—when we talk with the elders." Dad had agreed to let us meet with the elders as long as we did it on Sundays, and in the front room (so that we would be out of his way). To Dad, church or anything religious was for Sunday. He didn’t want it interfering with the rest of the week.

Mom sat down on my bed. "What’s on your mind?"

"Well, would it be wrong for me to play that one game?" I hit my pillow. "I just don’t know what to do. Could the elders tell me?"

Mom looked thoughtful. Then she said, "Kimball, I’m glad you care so much about doing what’s right." She asked me to read 1 Nephi 16:17–32 [1 Ne. 16:17–32] and discuss it with her in the morning.

The next morning after Dad left for work, I helped Mom clean up the breakfast dishes. "Kimball, what did you get out of those verses?" she asked.

"Well, one time Lehi and his family were traveling in the wilderness and needed food. Nephi was hunting and broke his bow, and since his brothers’ bows were broken, too, he made himself a new one."

"Then what did he do?"

"He didn’t know where he should go to hunt, so he asked his father, Lehi." All of a sudden I knew what Mom was getting at, and it scared me. "You think I should ask Dad about playing ball on the Sabbath?" I wasn’t sure he even knew what the Sabbath was!

"Why not, Kimball? He’s your father, the head of our family."

"Mom, that worked for Nephi—his dad was a prophet. But Dad doesn’t know anything about religious stuff."

Mom got out the Book of Mormon. "Kimball, read verse 20 to me." She pointed. "This part."

"‘… and also my father began to murmur against the Lord his God,’" I read.

"So even Lehi was complaining. Does that sound like the way a prophet, or a father, should act?"

I shook my head.

"But Nephi went to him anyway and asked him where to hunt. And you know what? Lehi was sorry for complaining and for not behaving like the head of the family should. He repented and made himself worthy to get an answer from the Lord so that he could give Nephi an answer."

Then I saw that to my mom, this wasn’t just about playing ball on Sunday. It was about trying to help Dad begin to change—like Nephi had helped his father to get back on track. When the missionaries had talked to us about the plan of salvation and temples and sealing and things like that, Mom’s eyes had been shiny with tears. Now I realized just how much she wanted Dad to be a part of it. I wanted it too. "OK, Mom. I’ll give it a try."

I still wanted to talk to the elders, though, so I called Elder Adams and told him my problem and what Mom had said. He just told me what a wise mom I had. Since he wasn’t going to tell me what to do, I had to gather my courage and ask Dad.

That night after supper, as Mom headed for the kitchen to get dessert, she looked straight at me. I took a deep breath. "Dad?"

"Aye, me mate," he answered in his best Australian accent, which didn’t make it any easier to get serious.

"My championship game is coming up, you know, and I’m wondering if I should, well, maybe not play in it." Dad looked shocked, so I hurried and added, "Well, it’s on the Sabbath—I mean, Sunday—and I don’t know what to do."

"Ah, a spiritual matter. Have you talked to your mother?" he asked, a little amused.

"She said I should get your advice."

"Oh? What about those two young men? Isn’t that what they’re for—to solve the world’s problems? Did you talk to them?"

"Yes. They said I should talk to you, the head of our family." I was sort of embarrassed to say that last part, but I thought it might help to point it out to him.

Dad was quiet. Finally, pulling the water pitcher to him, he stared at it and said, "Let’s take a look in our trusty crystal ball. Now, to play? Or not to play?" He studied the pitcher for a long time. "The crystal is cloudy. Maybe I need to change the water or something." He shrugged. "Sorry, son. I just don’t know. Talk to Mom about it again. Here she comes now, with an awesome dessert."

That was the end of our talk, the talk that was going to help me make my decision and to bring us closer together as a family. Dad had joked his way through it. I managed to keep back the tears of disappointment and embarrassment until I got to my room. Then I prayed. It helped some to ask Heavenly Father to help me not be mad at Dad and to know about playing on Sunday.

Mom came to my room before I went to sleep. She tried to comfort me, but she was as disappointed as I was. When I told her that I had decided not to play the game, she felt a little better. I didn’t, exactly.

The next morning, I told the coach that I wouldn’t be playing in the game because it was on Sunday. I could tell that he didn’t agree or even understand. But on the way home, I had a nice, peaceful feeling and I knew that I had made the right choice.

None of us mentioned the game again until Sunday morning. Dad looked out the window and commented on what a perfect day it was for a game. But he didn’t do his usual weatherman imitation.

That day at church, I figured the elders would ask me about my decision, but I didn’t see them at the meetings.

Pulling into our driveway after church, we saw their bikes in front of our house. Before, whenever they beat us home, they waited for us on the porch. But they weren’t there. We walked in and heard voices—not from the front room, our usual place, but from the family room. Dad was with the missionaries! On the end tables were scriptures, pamphlets, pictures, and glasses of lemonade.

As Mom joined Dad on the sofa, he squeezed her hand, smiled, then looked at me. "The other night, Kimball, you gave me the shock of my life by asking for my opinion on Sabbath ballplaying. I was caught off guard. I felt bad that you wanted spiritual advice and I couldn’t give you any. I responded the only way I knew how, by joking. I apologize, son."

Dad paused. I’d never heard him speak this long without cracking a joke.

"I figured that the elders could solve your problems easier than I could, so I was even more surprised when you said that they told you to come to me. Then, when I realized that they cared more about helping our family than gaining converts, I was impressed."

Elder Adams interrupted. "Your wife gave Kimball that counsel first, sir."

Dad looked at her in surprise.

"It was something I picked up from Lehi and Nephi in the Book of Mormon," Mom said, winking at me.

"Well," Dad went on, "when I saw that this church wants to build me up as the father in the home, I decided to hear what they have to say. That’s when I called these two young cyclists and caught them before they took off for the ‘Tour de France.’"

Mom spoke up, "Why don’t we continue this discussion over some lasagna. It’s in the oven, just waiting for us." Eagerly we started for the kitchen.

As I set the table, I thought about Dad calling the elders and about his apology, and I thought, Dad might have some Lehi in him, after all.

Then I started thinking about Lehi and his family. They had a hard life in the wilderness. I wondered if Lehi ever joked around with them, just to help make their lives a little happier. Dad would have done that, I thought. Grabbing a breadstick, I spoke into it. "Listen, everyone. I want you to meet my dad—a modern-day Lehi!"

While my friend and I were riding scooters around the neighborhood, he accidentally tripped over a rock, fell off his scooter, and landed on his back. Luckily we were by another friend’s house, so I helped my hurt friend over there and rang the doorbell. Steven came to the door and said, “What’s wrong, William?”
“Well, Michael here fell off his scooter and landed on his back,” I answered. I asked if his mom was home and he said yes. So I took Michael inside.
Steven’s mom looked at his back. She said that it was only a bruise. In five minutes he felt much better. I know that Jesus would help His friends too.

In 1981, Julia was introduced to the Church. The missionaries, performing community service in Soweto, found a boys’ center in desperate need of repair. For several weeks they cleaned up the premises.3

One day, Julia was asked to serve at that same boys’ club. When she arrived, she was astonished to see “two white boys hurling their spades into the brown dust.” The missionaries asked if they could come to her home and deliver a message. Three days later, Elders David McCombs and Joel Heaton showed up wearing their missionary attire and name tags.

Julia said that the first two missionary lessons “went in one ear and out the other.” But on their third visit, the missionaries asked about a photograph of Julia and John on her wall. She mentioned that her husband was dead, and the missionaries felt prompted to tell her about the plan of salvation and baptism for the dead. She said, “Then I started listening, really listening, with my heart. … As the missionaries taught me the principle of eternal relationships, I had the feeling that here is the way to be with my parents and my husband.” Julia was baptized five months later.

They returned to work, and Oliver began to wonder if he could translate as well.30 He believed that God could work through instruments like seer stones, and he had occasionally used a divining rod to find water and minerals. Yet he was unsure if his rod worked by the power of God. The process of revelation was still a mystery to him.31
Joseph again brought Oliver’s questions to the Lord, and the Lord told Oliver that he had power to acquire knowledge if he asked in faith. The Lord confirmed that Oliver’s rod worked by the power of God, like Aaron’s rod in the Old Testament. He then taught Oliver more about revelation. “I will tell you in your mind and in your heart, by the Holy Ghost,” He declared. “Behold, this is the spirit of revelation.”
He also told Oliver that he could translate the record like Joseph did, as long as he relied on faith. “Remember,” the Lord said, “without faith you can do nothing.”32
After the revelation, Oliver was excited to translate. He followed Joseph’s example, but when the words did not come easily, he grew frustrated and confused.
Joseph saw his friend’s struggle and sympathized. It had taken him time to tune his heart and mind to the work of translation, but Oliver seemed to think he could master it quickly. It was not enough to have a spiritual gift. He had to cultivate and develop it over time for use in God’s work.
Oliver soon gave up on translating and asked Joseph why he had not been successful.
Joseph asked the Lord. “You have supposed that I would give it unto you, when you took no thought save it was to ask me,” the Lord replied. “You must study it out in your mind; then you must ask me if it be right.”
The Lord instructed Oliver to be patient. “It is not expedient that you should translate now,” He said. “The work which you are called to do is to write for my servant Joseph.” He promised Oliver other opportunities to translate later, but for now he was the scribe and Joseph was the seer.33

More than 2,500 Mexican Latter-day Saints gathered on 25 June 1989 for the creation of the Tecalco Mexico Stake, about thirty miles south of Mexico City. It was the one-hundredth stake organized in that country. Among the members of the new stake was Fidencia García de Rojas—at age 106 the oldest Church member in Mexico. The Church in Mexico had passed yet another historic milestone during the eighty-eight years that Fidencia had been a member.
When Sister Fidencia died a month and a half later, President Felipe Hernández Luis of the Tecalco stake commented that those attending the funeral were part of another historic moment—the death of a Mexican pioneer.
Sister Fidencia began attending Latter-day Saint church meetings sometime between 1889 and 1901. During that period, the Church had closed the Mexican Mission. As a result, Church leaders in Mexico had little direction from Church headquarters, and many units deviated from standard doctrines and practices. During this time, Sister Fidencia and her family—not yet members of the Church—attended the Tecalco Branch.
When President Ammon M. Tenney came to Tecalco in 1901 to reestablish the branch after the mission reopened, the leader of the branch, Julian Rojas, was initially unwilling to relinquish control. Brother Rojas finally relented, and President Tenney rebaptized him and seventy-five others on August 18. One month later, President Tenney baptized Fidencia, her parents, and her grandparents. From that day on, Sister Fidencia dedicated her life to serving the Lord.
She recalled that after the Tecalco Branch was again in contact with Church headquarters, people began joining the Church. The first full-time missionaries soon arrived, and Fidencia’s parents built an extra room onto their house for the missionaries to live in. As membership grew, Sister Fidencia was among the group of members and missionaries who worked hard to buy a building lot for a Latter-day Saint chapel. She also helped missionaries in nearby Ozumba with their room, clothes, and food, and she worked at the Mexican mission home.
During her time at the mission home, the American missionaries taught Sister Fidencia to sing hymns in Spanish and English. She later joined the legendary Tecalco Choir and sang with the choir until just a few years before her death.
In 1910, Mexico entered a civil war that lasted, off and on, through the 1930s. In August 1913, American missionaries had to leave the country, and Mexican leaders were once again left to themselves. But the Church was well established by then, and the civil war did not seriously impede Mexican Saints from administering the Church. They did so for more than four years.
Sister Fidencia witnessed an even greater disruption of the Church in Mexico in 1936, when a large body of members known as the Third Convention broke away from the main body of Mexican Saints.
By 1942, however, Arwell L. Pierce, newly called president of the Mexican Mission, had begun working to resolve misunderstandings. And in 1946, President George Albert Smith, eighth President of the Church, presided over a reunification conference in Mexico City. During the conference, more than twelve hundred Third Conventionists returned to the Church. Sister Fidencia attended the conference and visited with President Smith in her home. Hers was the first home President Smith visited when the traveled to Tecalco.
Other milestones for the Church in Mexico began to occur more rapidly as Sister Fidencia grew older. Together with family and other Church members, she made several trips to the Arizona Temple over the years to do temple work for herself and her family. In 1972 she attended the Mexico City area conference. And in 1983 she attended the dedication of the Mexico City Temple. During these years she remained dedicated to her family, to missionary work, and to her Church callings, two of which were particularly important to her.
As a Primary teacher, Sister Fidencia loved to teach children the gospel through stories, especially Old Testament stories. She gave her students a love of the scriptures, which she read daily. And she often recited from memory facts and stories from the lives of all of the latter-day prophets. She taught many of her own grandchildren in that calling.
As a visiting teacher, Sister Fidencia completed forty consecutive years of 100-percent visiting teaching. In February 1978, she received commendation for this accomplishment from Relief Society and mission leaders, who expressed appreciation for her service and compassion.
Sister Fidencia’s posterity remembers her for an even greater accomplishment: bringing five generations of their family into the Church. She and her first husband, Aniceto Rojas, the son of Julian Rojas of the early Tecalco Branch, had six children, two of whom survived to have children and grandchildren of their own. She and her second husband, Manuel Rosas, had three children.
Sister Fidencia survived both of her husbands and lived to see many grandchildren and great-grandchildren serve missions. Many of her descendants have served and continue to serve faithfully as leaders among the Mexican Saints.
To her family, the most precious gift Grandmother Fidencia left was the gospel of Jesus Christ. For her fellow Saints, Sister Fidencia’s many years of humble service left a legacy that spanned almost an entire century—a century during which Church members in Mexico struggled, overcame, and finally flourished.

April 2020 general conference was “an unforgettable weekend” for Elder Adeyinka A. Ojediran.
The Church convert was sustained as a General Authority Seventy—a first for a Nigerian and West African Latter-day Saint. His overwhelming gratitude and joy increased even more when President Russell M. Nelson announced that Nigeria’s third temple would be built in Benin City.
“I wasn’t expecting that,” Elder Ojediran said, smiling broadly. “To hear our prophet say another temple would be built in Nigeria was really, really wonderful. For me, it was a confirmation that the work of the Lord is moving quickly. We all have a lot to do to prepare God’s children for His Son’s Second Coming.”

Another time a man came to work on our house. My wife thanked him when he was done. “We’d like to give you a gift,” she said. She gave him a copy of the Book of Mormon.
The man became upset. He didn’t understand what we believe. He thought we didn’t believe in Jesus Christ.
Chris was brave and shared his testimony with the man. Chris said he was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He said he believed in Jesus.
Many of Heavenly Father’s children don’t know about the gospel. Others don’t realize that we believe in Jesus. These people need someone who will be kind and talk to them. We can be brave and share our testimonies. We can help others learn about Jesus Christ!