Gospel Story Finder

It was autumn of 1997 and Gabin Mendene had just passed the baccalaureate examinations at his high school in Libreville, the capital city of Gabon. This was a great personal achievement, and he looked forward to a continuation of his studies at the university level. He was hoping to take advantage of a scholarship program that years before had been created by the government of this French-speaking African country. The program sponsored college-eligible students who were accepted at a public or private university anywhere in the world.
Gabin had applied to, and had been accepted at, L’institut Supérieur Industriel à Mons, a technical university in the southern Belgian city of Mons. The government’s scholarship would provide tuition, supplies, housing, and food assistance. He also received a one-way airline ticket for the 8,000-mile journey from Libreville to Brussels. The return ticket would be sent to him after graduation.
For the next four years he studied in an electrical engineering program and upon his graduation in 2002, Gabin prepared to return to Libreville. His program of study was finished, and he had received the last of his scholarship funds. He communicated with the program office in Gabon about his return airline ticket and was surprised to learn that due to bureaucratic complications, funding for his return airfare would be delayed. Gabin was crushed and felt completely stranded in a very difficult situation. He had no money, no place to live, and no prospect of finding even a temporary job since he was living in Belgium with a student visa.
It was during this period of struggle that he met two young men, Elder Roueché and Elder Marin, in Charleroi, Belgium. They taught him about the Book of Mormon and about the gospel of Jesus Christ. “These were some of the craziest ideas I had ever heard—angels, gold plates, and prophets living in our modern times,” Gabin recalls. After a few lessons, the missionaries invited him to go to the Charleroi Ward with them. Gabin protested, “I did not want to go to church with them.” But he finally told the missionaries that he would go to church once, and then he wanted them to leave him alone.
The following Sunday, they met on the sidewalk in front of the Charleroi chapel and walked through the front door. To this day, Gabin remembers the moment when his feet touched the carpeting inside the building. He heard a voice—more of an electrified feeling, really—telling him that this was a place where he belonged. After church services were over, he told the elders that he wanted to be baptized. This happened not long afterward.
Meanwhile, Gabin’s return ticket to Libreville remained undetermined. Fortunately, the kind-hearted Havrenne family, members of the Charleroi Ward, invited Gabin to live at their home in Erquelines, a small town near Charleroi, while his situation in Gabon was being resolved. After several weeks, his hosts insisted that he stay and proposed to have him help with the gardening around the house. “It was a difficult time in my life,” Gabin recalls. “Here I was, a trained electronics engineer with no money and no job—stranded in Belgium, pruning bushes and pulling weeds. But through it all I learned humility and this experience was one of the best lessons in my life.”
By 2005, Gabin still worked for his room and board as a gardener—and he was still struggling with the government of Gabon to organize his return. His Belgian student visa had long-since expired. In limited correspondence with his older brother in Libreville, Gabin learned that his family was very discouraged by the situation and desperately wanted him to return home.
By this time, he had received the Melchizedek Priesthood and had been ordained an elder. He also received his patriarchal blessing. In separate interviews, his bishop and stake president asked if he might be interested in serving a full-time mission. Gabin responded, “Yes, I would.” A missionary application was completed and submitted—and a few weeks later Gabin received his mission call from Salt Lake City. He was instructed to enter the missionary training centre on 20 June 2006—and then report to the Brussels Belgium Mission—a mere 60 kilometers from where he was then living.
Missionary preparation began in earnest and Gabin went to The Hague Netherlands Temple where he received his endowment. He was anxious to serve the next two years as a full-time missionary, but after having informed his family in Libreville of his plans, they became angry with him. They could not understand why he was interested in running off on a mission. “You must return home”, he was told. “After all, we supported you and it is selfish not to return home to help out the family.” Gabin became conflicted and during this personal struggle, he met with President Kevin S. Hamilton, who at the time was President of the Brussels Belgium Mission and who was to become his mission president. He asked for advice and counsel. President Hamilton, told him, “Trust in God—things happen for a reason. Everything will turn out all right, but in unexpected ways”.
A few days before his departure—and in a twist of fate that can only be understood by going forward in time to several years later—Gabin received two official letters in the mail. One, from the government of Belgium, indicated it had recently discovered that he was living in Belgium on an expired student visa and ordered him to be immediately deported back to Gabon. The second letter was from Libreville—and included his return airline ticket.
The stake president recommended that Gabin fly home and then he would work with the missionary department in Salt Lake City to get things sorted out. So, in the spring of 2006—nine years after first having left his family in Libreville—Gabin was finally going home. He packed a suitcase, and among his personal possessions were two copies of the Book of Mormon, his mission call, DVDs of both 2004 general conferences, his patriarchal blessing, a few tithing slips, and some temple garments.
Over the next few weeks, the stake president in Charleroi worked with the missionary department in Salt Lake City to resolve this unusual situation. Things became even more complicated because in 2006 the Church was not officially recognized by the government of Gabon and no ward or stake was organized in the country. Gabin, now living in Gabon, had no local priesthood leader. The Belgian government was not prepared to issue a missionary visa due to the expiration of the student visa. Finally, a decision was made to cancel his mission call. Gabin was home to stay.
He moved in with his older brother, and during that year, found a job as an electronics technician in a local business. The dreams of his higher education were beginning to come true.
With no organized Church unit in Libreville, Gabin held unofficial meetings on Sundays and family home evenings on Mondays at his home. Some friends and a few family members attended with interest. Gabin would teach from the Book of Mormon and they would watch 2004 general conference sessions.
Throughout this time, Internet services inside Gabon were unreliable and costly—and accessing websites outside the country was almost impossible. From time to time, Gabin was able to access Church websites and download a general conference talk or two. These he would print out and add to his Sunday “lesson plans”.
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.

Finding the local meetinghouse was the last thing on my mind.
Things like 95 degree weather, 90 percent humidity, and learning Cantonese were much more important.
Yet there I was, a dejected, three-week-long missionary, thanking a man for giving me an address I already had and really didn’t need. And all this because I couldn’t learn Cantonese.
I hadn’t meant for things to turn out that way. My district was doing a street display at Hong Kong’s Star Ferry just when the commuters were coming home. I wanted to get referrals and talk with people—and I tried to—but I was having little success.
My inexperience in speaking Cantonese—the second-most common Chinese dialect—was painfully evident. Speaking to Chinese people seemed an impossibility, and understanding what people said to me seemed about as easy as walking on water. And because I could neither speak nor understand, I began to doubt my worth to the Lord.
I spotted Mr. Wong just as he was coming down the steps of the ferry. He looked like such a nice man. He wore a blue suit and black shoes. His eyeglasses were slipping down his nose. His tie was still tight around his neck—something that looked very out of place in the humid air.
I mustered up as much self-confidence as I could in the few seconds I had. With a quick prayer in my heart and a deep breath, I started toward him.
The instructors at the Missionary Training Center had prepared me well for situations like this. I had practiced asking golden questions and getting referrals dozens of times. But all the preparation in the world couldn’t have taught me what I was about to learn.
“Neih hou ma?” I asked.
“Good,” he replied in a language I knew was Chinese but bore little resemblance to what I had learned in the MTC.
“I’m a representative of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Have you ever heard of this church before?”
Mr. Wong gave his reply, but—as usual—I couldn’t understand.
“My name is Gong Jeunglouh,” I said. “May I ask your honorable name?”
I didn’t understand much of what he said back to me, but I did understand his last name was Wong. He drew the Chinese Wong character on his hand and raised it to my eyes. His etchings meant nothing to me, but I pretended they did.
“May I tell you a little about our church?” I asked.
“I don’t understand,” he said. That was one of the few things I could understand. I had used that phrase myself several times during the past three weeks.
I showed Mr. Wong my name tag so he could read the name of the Church in Chinese.
“Oh—a church!” he said.
I smiled. “Yes—I am a missionary from this church,” I said, pointing to my name tag. “May I tell you a little about it?”
His reply was long and difficult for a new missionary to understand.
“What is your address?” I asked. I figured I might as well go all out and try to get a referral.
“Address? You want address?” he asked.
“Yes. What is your address?” I got my pen and notebook ready to write—or at least to ask him to write—the address down.
“You wait here. I will return in a few minutes,” he said. I barely made out what he was trying to tell me, thanks to his hand gestures.
“You stay right here,” he insisted.
“I will,” I assured him. Off he went, leaving me no clue as to where he was going or why he wanted me to wait.
Mr. Wong reappeared from among the sea of Chinese commuters a full 15 minutes later. He walked briskly—almost at a trot—with a paper in his hand.
He smiled and waved as he approached. I walked to meet him.
“Here,” he said. He handed me a page of an English phone book. The address of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was circled.
“Here is your church’s address,” he said.
Now I understood. Mr. Wong had thought I was a lost foreigner looking for my church. My self-confidence sank as I thanked him for his trouble.
Mr. Wong offered his hand with a smile of pride and friendliness.
“Thank you very much,” I said.
“No problem,” he replied, and began to walk away.
“See you later,” I said. And then, as an afterthought, “May I give you this?”
I reached into my suit pocket and handed him a Joseph Smith pamphlet. I gave it to him with two hands, and he accepted the gift in the same manner, a Chinese custom.
“At least I learned something in the MTC,” I thought to myself, remembering our classes on cultural customs. Mr. Wong faded away into the crowd.
I went to sleep that night praying for strength and success. I wanted to preach the gospel with all my heart, but I felt great frustration in learning to speak the language.
The months passed, and as they passed my confidence grew. I was soon transferred out of that area, and new investigators, new companions, and new street displays occupied my mind.
A year later I was a zone leader in another part of Hong Kong. One Sunday I was back in my first area taking care of some mission business. Being in that first meetinghouse brought back both good and bad memories. I rejoiced in seeing my old friends from the local ward.
The halls of the church had cleared after all the meetings were over, and my companion and I were the only ones in the foyer. I was hoping to see more of my former friends.
As we were about to leave, a classroom door opened. My eyes widened as I saw Mr. Wong—the commuter at Star Ferry—emerge from the dark hall!
“Mr. Wong! How are you?” I asked with excitement.
“I’m Brother Wong now, Elder Call,” he said in perfect Mandarin.
“You speak Mandarin? No wonder I couldn’t understand you at the ferry!”
“And you were speaking Cantonese—that is why I couldn’t understand you,” he said.
We sat and talked for several minutes. Brother Wong explained to me that after our encounter at the ferry a year before, he went home and read the Joseph Smith pamphlet. He said he read it out of curiosity more than anything else. The Spirit touched his soul. He telephoned the mission home to ask for more information and two sisters began teaching him the gospel. He gained a testimony and was baptized.
Our reunion was sweet and joyous, even though we had seen each other only once before. My heart was touched and the Spirit bore record to me of the true meaning of Paul’s words to the Corinthians:
“I have planted, Apollos watered; but God gave the increase” (1 Cor. 3:6).

One Sunday, right in the middle of the branch sacrament meeting, a woman walked in the door off the street. She was a homeless woman who was wearing dirty, ragged clothes, coughing, choking, and blowing her nose into a filthy handkerchief. In a loud, hoarse voice she said, “I want to sing! I want to pray!” and walked right to the front row and sat down next to a member who was wearing a white blouse, leaned against her, and laid her head on her shoulder. The member immediately put her arms around this guest and held her in her arms throughout the remainder of the meeting. It happened that the speaker had been talking about the parable of the good Samaritan as the woman had come in. As this woman coughed and choked, the speaker continued telling of the parable. As he came to the end of his talk and was quoting a relevant scripture, suddenly, in a loud voice, this homeless woman finished giving the verse that the speaker had begun. In talking of this after sacrament meeting with the speaker, we thought it had probably been a long time since someone had affectionately put an arm around our visitor. We wondered what better illustration you could have of the parable of the good Samaritan than what we had just seen, and we were reminded of the Savior’s words that preceded His telling of that parable, “Thou shalt love … thy neighbour as thyself.”

I heard that many families from another country were fleeing for their safety. Some of them were moving to an area close by. Right away I thought, “How can I help them?”
I said a prayer to know how I could help. Then my mom got an email from the stake Relief Society. They were asking people to donate items to give to the refugee families. I knew my prayer was answered!
I love to bake (my specialty is cookies) so I decided to sell cookies to earn money for these families. I made fliers and rode my roller skates around the neighborhood to deliver them. My dog, Coco, came too.
Many of my neighbors were excited to buy my cookies. With the money I earned, I bought pots and pans to donate.
I felt good knowing these families would be able to cook using the pots and pans. I can only imagine how comforting a home-cooked meal would taste when you’re in a new country.
I learned in Primary that “when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God” (Mosiah 2:17). I felt Heavenly Father’s love for me and for the people moving to my area.

Take 24 youths, add 176 hours of energetic activity, combine with 21 gallons of paint, and you have one freshly painted house, seven tired adult leaders, and one happy homeowner.
The housepainting was one project developed and completed by the youth of the Mt. Pleasant (Utah) Second Ward. The recipient of the work was 80-year-old Hugh Barton, who had been born in the house in 1895.
The old home took on a new appearance last May when members of the Aaronic Priesthood scrubbed away loosened paint and applied the first coat of new paint. On the following Saturday they put a second coat of cream-colored paint on the transformed house. The Laurels provided refreshments, helped add the white trim to doors and windows, and cleaned the windows in addition.
After completion of the project, the workers posed in front of the two-story home with its grateful owner.

Rene and Myra Holganza of the Taytay First Ward, Cainta Philippines Stake in Metro Manila, have strong testimonies that the Lord blesses those who keep His commandments. Because good jobs are hard to find in the Philippines, the Holganzas spent nine years working in Japan. When they returned to Manila, however, financial troubles came in waves. Because of serious health problems and the accompanying medical bills, they had to mortgage their home. Rene was unable to find employment for some time, so they couldn’t make their mortgage payments, and the bank threatened to foreclose. Seeking assistance from the Church, they went to their bishop, who asked Rene if he was a full-tithe payer. “I said no,” Rene recalls. “He asked me if I intended to be a full-tithe payer. I said yes. So from that time on I did pay a full tithe and a little more to make up for the past.”
To pay their bills and avoid foreclosure on the mortgage, they tried to sell their home, but no one wanted to buy it. Because of a mudslide in a nearby neighborhood, nobody wanted to take a chance on property in the area, even though the price they were asking was below market value. Eventually they stopped trying to sell the house, expecting the bank to foreclose and sell the property at a very low price.
The Holganzas went to their bishop again, and he recommended that they fast and continue to pay tithing. He told them the Lord would bless them in their need. “So we fasted,” says Rene, “and I continued to pay my tithes and offerings, and I believed something would work out.”
Then one day a man approached the Holganzas unexpectedly and asked them if their house was for sale. They said yes, and he offered to buy it for more than their original asking price. With this money they were able to pay off their mortgage, eliminate almost all their debts, and pay the loan on the taxi Rene now drives to support his family. They see this blessing as a miracle and feel it is a direct result of keeping the law of tithes and offerings, exercising faith in the Lord, and following inspired counsel.

How well I remember the challenges confronting the youth in the ward over which I once presided.
One evening a lovely teenage girl came to the office with her boyfriend to talk things over with me. The two of them were very much in love, and temptation was beginning to make its inroad.
As we counseled together, my young friends each made a pledge to the other to resist temptation and keep uppermost in their minds the goal of a temple marriage. I suggested a course of action to follow and then felt impressed to say: “If you ever find yourselves in a position of compromise and need additional strength, you call me regardless of the hour.”
Early one morning at one o’clock, the telephone rang and a voice said: “Bishop, this is Nancy. Remember how you asked me to call if I found myself being tempted? Well, Bishop, I’m in that situation.” I asked where she was, and she described one of the more popular moon-watching spots in the Salt Lake Valley. She and her fiancé had walked to a nearby phone booth to make the call. The setting wasn’t ideal for providing counsel, but the need was great and the young couple was receptive.
Months later, when the mailman delivered her wedding announcement to our home and Sister Monson read, “Mr. and Mrs. __________ request the pleasure of your company at the wedding reception of their daughter, Nancy,” she sighed, “Thank heaven! No more 1:00 A.M. telephone calls.” When I noticed the small print at the bottom which read, “Married in the Salt Lake Temple,” I said silently, “Thank heaven for the strength of Latter-day Saint youth!”
Choose your friends with caution.

I have medical issues that have been really hard. I was born differently, without any way to use the bathroom. I have had three major surgeries and a few small ones.
Sometimes I wonder why I am like this, but thinking about God and His plan of salvation helps me remember that I am just as loved as everyone else. Having a testimony of the gospel is amazing, and I know I can depend on the Lord.
I love my body very much. I know I am truly a gift of light (which is what my name means). Even though I struggle, I know I can always ask God for help.
Illustration by Alyssa Johnson

One day I was walking by a family’s house in my ward and I remembered the parents had recently divorced. I was thinking about what I could do for them and a prompting came to me to go ask if the father was home. It scared me to death and I almost walked away. But trusting that God knows best, I approached the door, knocked, and waited. The mother opened the door slowly; as I looked at her face it was obvious she had been crying. I asked if the father was home, and she said no. I didn’t know what to say next, so I asked if I could rake her leaves or do any other task for her. She said she didn’t need any help at that time, but she would let me know when she did. I left, confident that I had done what God wanted me to do.
Over the next couple of weeks, I befriended her son and played hockey with him and talked with him. A few weeks later my mom told me that the sister had told my mom what happened because I knocked on her door. She had been thinking a lot about how her family would be impacted by her husband’s absence and how her son would no longer have a friend. She had been praying for guidance at the exact moment I knocked on the door.
I know that spiritual promptings can come to you if you are ready for them and that they can change your life and the lives of those you touch.

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.

In high school. After my mission I wasn’t accepted to a university, so I studied on my own. I read lots of books. I visited Europe to study the stained-glass windows of famous cathedrals. I stared at one window in Czechoslovakia for an hour! It was inspiring. I promised myself that someday I would try to make a window that beautiful. Now I get to make stained-glass windows for temples around the world.

A few years ago, when I was in the navy during World War II, I received orders to report to the fleet headquarters at Pearl Harbor. My family took me to Treasure Island in the San Francisco Bay, where I boarded the plane there, an old sea plane called a Pan-American clipper. On board that plane were some high-ranking medical officers going out to prepare and build up the hospital support because the battle of Tarawa would be taking place within a few weeks. Because of my rank, I was assigned to sleep in a sleeping bag out in the tail of that plane, where I could see the starboard engines as we were flying over San Francisco, which was under military blackout. It was black as we were flying out over the Pacific, and I thought the starboard engine on that old Pan-American plane was on fire. I couldn’t sleep as I watched it throughout the entire flight.
During that sleepless night I wondered about my own life and whether I had been living up to the opportunities that would be mine and the responsibility that would be mine as a holder of the Melchizedek Priesthood—the responsibility to be an example and to live the way I should so that I would be able to fulfill the calls that might come to me. In that sleepless night I took an inventory of myself, of my attitudes, wondering if I was doing all that I might. Even though I had always accepted my Church assignments, I wondered if I was fulfilling them with all of my heart, might, mind, and soul and living up to the responsibility, the blessing, that I received as a holder of the Melchizedek Priesthood and what would be expected of any of us who received this blessing.
Looking back on that sleepless night, I thank the Lord for His blessings today and for all that I have had the opportunity to be involved in. I try always to live the gospel to the fullest, to do everything I am called on to do with all of my heart, might, mind, and strength, to fulfill any call that might come to me so I may be qualified to do whatever I might be asked to do someday.

I learned about the gospel together with my family in Barahona. One day, the missionaries came to our home. I was 11 years old. Somehow, I was delighted by what they taught us. Right now I do not remember all my feelings clearly, but what I can tell you is that I liked what they taught. We felt very good; they brought a very special spirit into our home. Thus, when the missionaries invited us to be baptized, I did not doubt; I accepted and entered the waters of baptism together with my mother. That was how I entered into the way and made my baptismal covenants with the Lord.

Sacrament meeting is going to start in a few minutes, and Steven Forsyth, 13, is well prepared. He isn’t going to speak, though; he’s going to play the hymns.
Steven warms up by practicing the hymns he will be playing for the meeting. The ward organist, Kathy Craven, sits nearby to help with whatever he needs. Marla Bishop, the ward chorister, stands next to the organ and conducts the hymns as Steven practices, making sure he is following the beat. “Remember to hold that for three counts,” Sister Bishop says, pointing to one of the notes. Ward members continue coming in and taking their seats while Steven plays in the background.
Five minutes before the meeting starts, Sister Craven takes over playing the prelude music. Steven sits near the organ and watches her, shifting nervously as he waits to play the opening hymn. He has nothing to worry about, though; he plays all three hymns for the meeting beautifully.
“I get very nervous the week I’m supposed to play, and my hands get all sweaty,” Steven says, “but it’s a good feeling afterwards.”

When I was 11, my family had to leave East Germany. We moved to Frankfurt, West Germany. Until my father could find a job like he had before, he and my mother operated a laundry to make a living, and I was the laundry delivery boy. I saw some shiny red bicycles, and I wished I could have one to make my deliveries. But I needed a heavy-duty bicycle to pull the cart with the laundry on it. I rode around pulling that heavy laundry cart before school and after school. It was hard to see the other children play, especially during the winter months. But everybody in our family had to work hard, and I knew I was an important part of the family business. I felt needed and valued.

Mason and Dad are walking in the forest. Mason brought paper and crayons to draw what he sees. Mason draws a squirrel with a fuzzy tail climbing up a tree. Mason draws shiny fish swimming in the river. Mason draws round, red berries that remind him of bouncy balls. Mason and Dad get to the end of the trail. Mason draws a beautiful waterfall! Mason is glad Jesus made such a beautiful world for him.
Mason drew pictures of things he saw on his nature walk. Can you find them in the picture below? What else do you see?

One sunny day when I was seven years old, I was playing outside my grandmother’s home while my family visited on the front porch. As I walked along a shrubbery-lined path by the side of the house, I suddenly felt a sharp, terrible pain in my ankle. My family heard my screams and rushed to my side. To their shock they saw that I had been bitten by a snake.
I had to get to a doctor, but we were out in the country and didn’t have a car. My uncle ran several miles to a neighbor’s home to borrow a cattle truck, and once we were in the truck, we even had to stop to get gasoline. My leg started swelling, and we didn’t know what kind of snake had bitten me.
We finally reached the hospital—a little one-story frame building—and after some tests, the doctor determined that I had been bitten by a rattlesnake. Judging from the fang marks, it had been a huge snake—about five feet long! As the poison from the bite rose in my blood, it turned my skin black, until it was black only two or three inches below my heart.
I was in the hospital for many days, and it was a painful and difficult time. I can remember having nightmares and screaming. One time, a young medical student who lived in a house across the street heard my screams as he was taking a shower. He dashed over to the hospital to help me with just a towel wrapped around him. Another time, the owner of a small restaurant about two blocks away became alarmed when he heard me, and he called the hospital, wanting to know what was going on.
I’m told I almost didn’t survive, but while in the hospital I was given a blessing. Because I was unconscious at the time, I didn’t hear the words, but my family later told me that I had been blessed that my life would be preserved for a special purpose. My relatives later told and retold this experience at family gatherings. This has given my life special meaning, and it has strengthened my testimony of the importance and power of the priesthood.

Living Christmas card. When I served as a missionary in Brazil, all of our appointments fell through on Christmas night, so I suggested to my companion, “Let’s be a live Christmas card and visit our neighbors!” To my surprise, we were well received at every house. As we sang the wonderful hymns of Christmas and read their corresponding scriptures, I felt something extraordinary and profound. I understood more fully the love of the Savior, and I could see tears in the eyes of our neighbors who before had been so suspicious of us. After we returned home and had our dinner, I recorded the following in my journal: “Tonight we shared the birth of the King of kings with our neighbors. The Spirit magnified us and united us for eternity.”Nivaldo P., Brazil

Living near the coast on Vancouver Island, Marnie gets many opportunities to go to the ocean. “I hike to Witty’s Lagoon sometimes. You can see whales and sea lions there,” said Marnie. “Once when I was there with my friends Kara and Nina and my sister Stephanie, two sea lions came up not far from us and played for fifteen or twenty minutes. When we got out of the water, they swam away. Another time our family was at Witty’s Lagoon with Brother Bedesso from our ward. We put inflated inner tubes on each end of a big log we found so that it would float better. Then Dad, Brother Bedesso, Stephanie, Kristy, Melissa, and I all sat on the log and sailed in the lagoon. Later that day we caught a dogfish, which is a kind of small shark.
“I like to swim in fresh water, too,” said Marnie. (There are two fresh-water lakes near Marnie’s home.) “I like to wade in the water and put logs out to sail.”
“Our family goes to Sealand sometimes. There are three killer whales there, and we know that if we stand in a certain spot, the trainer will pick us to feed the whales. So Stephanie, Melissa, Kristy, and I have been able to feed the whales.”
Marnie does her share to help her mother, Linda, and her father, Doug, do the housework and yard work. “I help clean the house, and I put my laundry away and make my bed. Sometimes I take care of Kellie, and I make supper every Saturday. Well, not exactly every Saturday, but lots of Saturdays. In the summer I water the raspberry bushes.
“Each day Stephanie, Melissa, Kristy, and I draw sticks with jobs written on them to see who clears the table after supper, washes the dishes, and dries the dishes. One stick says that that person gets the day off. If you get three days off in a row, the next day you have to do the clearing, washing, and wiping all by yourself.”
Marnie, Melissa, and Stephanie are in the same class at school. “It’s a combined class with twenty-one other students,” Marnie explained. “Having sisters in your class is neat. We don’t always do our homework together, though, because we don’t always have the same homework. Sometimes,” she added, “being in the same class can cause problems. Like today: I expected Melissa to bring home her social studies book because she always brings her books home.”
“And Marnie usually ‘forgets’ her books,” Melissa put in.
“Well, we have a social studies test tomorrow,” added Marnie, “and not one of us brought our book home to study, because we all thought that someone else would bring hers.”
“In Primary Melissa and I aren’t in the same class, but sometimes our teachers let us sit together during opening exercises and Sharing Time. I like Primary. One of my favorite lessons that I learned in Primary was from a talk that one of our leaders gave. She said that once when she was little and had gone out trick-or-treating, some teenagers took her bag of candy away from her. Her brother saw how sad she was and gave her his bag of candy. I thought that was a good lesson.” And it’s a lesson that Marnie Payne lives by.

“The first thing I do whenever I’m transferred is check for the location of the local chapel,” said Joseph Clancy, 19, in the U.S. Army and stationed at Ford Ord, California. “I walked to every chapel on the base here looking for the Mormon chaplain, and when my feet got sore, I let my fingers do the walking and checked the phone book. The local ward directed me to Chaplain Cooper, and he had a member pick me up for church.
“I’ve also learned that trying to fit in with the gang that runs around is not my style. I’ve concentrated on being a missionary wherever I go, and I’ve just converted a friend in the barracks. I like being in the military. I guess I’m old-fashioned because I feel that patriotism and honor and duty to your country are important.”