Gospel Story Finder

Once a group of young men went to a lake. They took a bow and 10 arrows with them. After all the arrows had been shot and had fallen harmlessly into the lake, one boy decided to swim to the middle of the lake to retrieve the last arrow. He dived in and headed toward it. He got it and then turned back to swim for shore. By this time he was extremely tired. His wet clothing weighed him down. Holding the arrow in his hand made swimming very difficult. He began to fear he might drown, and he called out desperately to his friends for help.
“Put your feet down and walk to shore,” they called back to him. He couldn’t see things clearly, but his friends, who were looking at things from the shore, knew he was in shallow water. All he had to do was stand up and he would be safe.

A matchmaking friend set Joaquin Esteban Costa on the path that led to his conversion to the gospel of Jesus Christ, a temple marriage, and leadership in the Church.
Joaquin Costa was born on March 8, 1965, to Eduardo J. Costa and Graciela M. Fassi. As a university student in Buenos Aires, Argentina, a friend, Alin Spannaus, now an Area Seventy, introduced him to Renée Varela. A second-generation Latter-day Saint, Renée hesitated before accepting a date with the 21-year-old, who was not a member of the Church. After three dates she decided she “liked him too much” and felt they shouldn’t date anymore. At the end of the school year, he returned to his birthplace, Entre Rios, Argentina.
Renée accepted a call to serve in the Chile Osorno Mission. After she returned home, Brother Spannaus arranged for her and Joaquin to attend the same party, at which Joaquin asked her for a date. “I prayed and decided to give him a chance,” Sister Costa says.
Soon, Joaquin was learning about the Church. As he studied with the missionaries, Renée asked him to pray and read the Book of Mormon from beginning to end.
“He didn’t make it to the end before he received a strong testimony,” Sister Costa says. “He didn’t get baptized just to please me. We dated one more year and then married in the Buenos Aires Argentina Temple in 1989.”

While sitting on the couch watching television, I heard my dad say, “Come in, come in!” To my surprise, it was the missionaries. It was the first time in a really long time that they had visited us. My mom isn’t a member of the Church, and our family wasn’t really active in Church.
Towards the end of the lesson, my mom was asked to say the closing prayer. She was hesitant at first, but with a little encouragement from my dad, she agreed.
All of us knelt down, and my mom spoke in our native language. She thanked Heavenly Father for our unexpected visitors and the message they had for us. She asked for guidance, prayed for the missionaries to get home safely, and asked that we would all be blessed.
Once the elders were gone, I hugged my mom and said I was so proud of her. She hugged me back and said, “Thank you.” I couldn’t wipe the smile off of my face.
My mom still hasn’t been baptized. But I have hope that one day she will become a member and we will be sealed in the temple.
Shaura C., Benguet, Philippines

In 2021, my parents were called as mission leaders over the France Lyon Mission. In 2022, Elder Soares came to visit. In his talk to the missionaries, he mentioned that his luggage got lost on one of his flights.
This was kind of a wake-up call for me. It’s easy to see apostles and prophets on our screens and think that life is easy for them. But our leaders don’t ask to do this—they are called to do it. They choose to follow the Lord, and that means leaving behind their plans for the future.
Elder Soares taught me what it means to be a disciple of Christ. Even though he was busy and had his own struggles, he tried to talk to as many members as possible. I realized that the General Authorities are people like you and me who have chosen Christ and work to show His love.
Lydie L.

While preparing to teach a family home evening lesson, I wanted to give my children some perspective on the daily rigors and challenges of missionary work. As I opened my missionary journal to look for a suitable example, I found a summary of a not-so-uncommon day.
First, my companion and I went to see Maria, who was washing clothes. “Could you come back later this morning?” she asked.
We went to see another investigator, but he was sleeping. When we returned to Maria’s home at 11:30 a.m., she was still washing clothes.
Later, at 3:00 p.m., we had an appointment with another investigator. When we arrived, he was making grease.
“I’m really busy right now,” he told us. “Can you come back later?”
We returned to Maria’s home, but she was now washing dishes. Then we went to visit another investigator named Junior. He was busy cooking.
“How about tomorrow?” he asked us.
I wrote in my journal: “We try to plan really well, do our best to keep our appointments, and make plan B and plan C. We pray for inspiration. There’s got to be a more practical way to help people.”
As I reread those experiences through more mature eyes, I chuckled. The lesson I had intended to teach my children about developing resilience to face disappointment now seemed less important than the lesson I had just been taught.
My exasperated plea of 30 years before seemed funny to me now. The answer to my exasperation was right there in my plea. Thinking of my younger self, I mused, “Elder Jackson, what if you had tried to help people by helping them in their time of need?”
Today, if my companion and I found Maria facing a burden of laundry and dishes, we would say, “How can we help you?”
Today, if the man we had scheduled to visit was busy making grease, we would exclaim, “Can you teach us? We’d love to help you!”
Today, if we found Junior busy preparing food, we would say, “We’re at your service! What would you like us to do?”
As a young missionary, I tended to look at service as something to schedule rather than as something to offer when needed. Today I try to teach people about the love of Jesus Christ by showing them His love.

Elder Kikuchi’s background hardly made him a likely candidate for conversion to the Church. Born in 1941, he was raised in the rural “snow country” of Hokkaido, Japan’s northernmost island. Latter-day Saint missionaries had left Japan more than a decade before his birth, finding little success in a country steeped in tradition. During the 1930s, as Japan grew increasingly militaristic and anti-American, the last traces of Church organization virtually vanished.
Then, five months after Yoshihiko was born, Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, was bombed. And shortly before the end of the war, Yoshihiko’s father—serving in the Japanese military—died in an American bombing raid over Japan. Not many would have expected a boy in Yoshihiko’s situation ever to join an “American” church.
“I was prejudiced toward Americans because of my father’s death,” says Elder Kikuchi. “When I answered the door that day (in 1958) and saw two Americans—all bundled up in their hats and overcoats—I naturally told them, ‘No, thank you.’”
Even meeting the elders when he did would not normally have been a possibility because Yoshihiko should have been in school. But he was recuperating from an illness. A hardworking boy, he had been going to school at night and rising at 4 A.M. to work so he could help his mother support the family. This rigorous schedule completely exhausted him, and he collapsed one day on the job. After his release from the hospital, he was staying with his uncle, and was home alone when Elder Law and Elder Porter knocked on the door.
Just as Yoshihiko would have normally been elsewhere that day—either in school or at work—the elders normally would have been taking the day off because it was their preparation day. But they had not found many investigators in recent weeks, and were out going door-to-door because Elder Law had felt inspired to do so.
Elder Law persisted when Yoshihiko declined to talk to them, saying he and Elder Porter had an important message that would only take a few minutes. “My health crisis had put me in a position of seeking God,” Elder Kikuchi reminisces, “and I decided to let them come in. They told me the Joseph Smith story. I was very impressed.”
“Yoshihiko struck me as an exceptional young man,” says Brother Law, who now lives in Mapleton, Utah. “I knew he was ready for the gospel.”
“I’m grateful the elders went the extra mile,” Elder Kikuchi comments. Today, his appreciation for the work of the missionaries is often expressed. “I want to tell American Saints how much I appreciate my testimony,” he says. “I especially want the older brothers and sisters to know that I deeply appreciate the legacy—and heritage—they have preserved. I have met members of the Church in Bend, Oregon; Salmon, Idaho; Tooele, Utah; and many other places. These wonderful people live ‘common’ lives, attending church each week faithfully. They may wonder if they are really contributing to the kingdom of God. I want to assure them that they are. They are faithful individuals who raise their righteous sons and daughters and send them on missions. I want them to know they are doing a marvelous, marvelous work for the Lord.”
After his own contact with the missionaries, Elder Kikuchi turned out to be a “golden investigator,” eagerly receiving lessons and even coming to the meetinghouse when he did not have an appointment. In the spring of 1958, just a few weeks after meeting the elders, he was baptized by Elder Law. The date was April 6—the anniversary of the organization of the Church.

The youth of the Dublin (California) Ward and the Pleasanton Second Ward had to move quickly. With just three days’ notice from Children’s Hospital in Oakland, California, they pulled together a group to put on a party for all the cardiology patients and their families.
The youth manned refreshment tables, a popcorn machine, face-painting booths, and the check-in table. They also gave instruction in ’50s style dancing.
“It was so fun to watch the kids learn that dance,” says Jessica Cooper. “Every single one of them was smiling. It really made me feel good.”
“I’m not sure who had more fun,” says Beth Patterson, “us or the kids!”

Dear Buddy,
Wow! Two letters from you in one week! That was great! But now I have a real problem, and it’s all because of you and your good looks and charm. I’m worried that you may steal my girlfriends from me!
Seriously, Melissa and Kelly are both good friends, and there’s nothing too serious between us as far as I’m concerned. But if they both show up at the house at the same time, you’ll have to use your charm and personality to save the day.
Elder Watts and I are teaching some terrific people. The Brooks family has a boy just a year older than you. His name is Bobby, and he’s been going to Primary for three weeks now and has made some friends there. Bobby and his mother want to get baptized and join the Church, but Mr. Brooks says that he can’t seem to get a testimony. We challenged him to finish reading the Book of Mormon and to pray for a testimony of whether it is true or not.
We are also teaching a student from the university, a great guy named Will Landers. Will likes the Church but has to solve some problems before he can join. Please remember all these people in your prayers.
And whatever your problem is, don’t be afraid to tell me.
Love,Reed
Dear Reed,
Today was the second worst day of my entire life! (The worst day was the day that you left home.) We had baseball tryouts, and I was terrible! I couldn’t do anything right. I need you here to help me. Dad says that he’ll practice with me, but you know how busy he is all the time. How can I ever learn to play baseball good enough to get on the team and then play for the high school and get a scholarship for college like you did? Sometimes I feel like a dumb little kid who can’t do anything right.
Do you know now what my secret is? My secret is that I don’t think that I can stand to have you be away for two years. I want you to come home right now! I need you, Reed. Please come home now!
Love,Buddy
P.S. If I ever decide to play baseball again, can I borrow your glove and bats?
Dear Buddy,
Last time you and I played baseball, you were as good as I was when I was your age—maybe even better! Your problem is that you want to be great right now. But you have a lot of work and practice and growing to do. Lots of the guys who were better baseball players than I was at seven and eight years old never made the college teams because they didn’t work as hard as I did all those years. So don’t give up if you really want to do it.
As far as the other problem goes, you know that I can’t leave my mission. But I’ll tell you a secret. Sometimes I get homesick, and it really hurts inside when I want to see all of you and can’t. I miss playing baseball with you, Buddy, and going for ice cream and to the movies and talking in the dark after we’ve gone to bed. What I do when I get homesick is pray for strength and comfort. And then I try to forget about myself by helping other people. That seems to work every time.
You can help Elder Watts and me too. Please pray for the Brooks family and Will Landers. And pray that Elder Watts and I can help them.
Love,Reed
P.S. I’m afraid that my glove and bats are too big and awkward for you, but you can try them if you want. And you can have all my baseballs if you promise to wear them out with your practicing.
Dear Brad May,
My name is Bobby Brooks. Yesterday your big brother baptized me, and I became a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints! Elder Watts baptized my mom and dad. I’m really happy now, and Mom and Dad are happy too. We know that we did the right thing because this is the right church.
Elder May is a great guy! I like him a lot. He’ll be here only a short time, but you’re lucky because he’ll always be your brother. I hope that he’ll always be my friend. I want to be a missionary like him someday. Thanks for sharing him with us.
Sincerely,Bobby Brooks
Dear Reed,
Something awesome just happened! When I got your letter, I tried to do what you said. I prayed for help so that I wouldn’t miss you so much. Then I prayed for the people you’re teaching. Then I thought that maybe I’d write a letter to them. But before I wrote, I got a letter from Bobby Brooks, and he said that you baptized him!
I want you to stay on your mission and find more people who want to learn about the Church. I want you to tell me all about your mission because I want to grow up to be a missionary just like you.
Please tell Bobby that I’ll write a letter to him soon.
I have to go now so that I’ll be on time for baseball practice.
Love,Buddy
(To be continued)

One day I was teaching my daughter Maria how to listen to answers to her prayers. “Honey, listen in your prayer to your conscience. Then respond to what you feel or sense.” She questioned how to do this. I suggested that whenever she asks for a certain blessing, she ask herself if she has done everything possible to earn and deserve that blessing. (And when we obtain any blessing from God, it is by obedience to that law upon which it is predicated. D&C 130:21) Then the Lord will speak to her heart through her conscience.
Maria did this and she said that nothing new was given, for “I already know what I should do.” I asked her where she got that knowledge. She answered, “In my Sunday School class.” I pointed out that Sunday School was part of the Lord’s kingdom and that the true principles she had learned there were lodged in her heart and mind.
The Holy Ghost brings those principles to remembrance when we need them to meet the demands of each situation. “For behold, again I say unto you that if ye will enter in by the way, and receive the Holy Ghost, it will show unto you all things what ye should do.” (2 Ne. 32:5)

It seemed just like any other day to Mura as she turned over in bed and found her two sisters missing. Yet, there was a certain feeling of excitement in the air that caused everyone in the house to hurry.
Why would anyone want to rush around on such a beautiful Saturday? Mura wondered, trying to fight for those last few winks of sleep.
The warm morning breeze and crisp sunlight, along with the sound of busy people in the other room, told Mura it was time to get up.
Finally she sat up in bed and was stretching toward the ceiling when her mother came into the room. “So, you finally decided to wake up. Don’t you know we have a big day ahead of us, sleepy bones?”
Mother helped Mura put on her Sunday dress and they went into the kitchen where the rest of the family had already started eating. Porridge and Maori bread. Mmmmm! thought Mura as she quickly joined her family at the table for her favorite breakfast.
After their meal, father made a last-minute inspection of Mura’s brothers and sisters. Soon the whole family was on its way to the pa (native Maori village) where there is usually a meetinghouse, an eating house, and a sleeping house for overnight visitors.
As Mura walked along holding her mother’s hand, she looked around at the crowd. She had never seen this many people in their small village before, and they were all going to the marae (courtyard). She saw her very best friend Rangi, her cousins all the way from Tauranga, and even some pakehas (white people) she had never seen. It was very unusual for white people to attend such a meeting.
Soon Mura’s family arrived to find the marae already crowded with happy, excited people of all ages. There were far too many of them to fit into the meetinghouse, so chairs were set up on the porch of the beautifully carved building for those who were to speak at the huitau (conference). Many had brought blankets and chairs so that they could sit down when the meeting began.
Things seemed confusing to Mura as she looked around at the hundreds of moving legs, but then a smile came across her face as she spotted Rangi again through the crowd. The two met halfway and Rangi’s parents followed the pair back to Mura’s family.
The grownups stood and talked about grown-up things while Mura and Rangi played tag.
A whisper soon started rustling through the crowd. “Tumuki (president), the great Tumuki is coming, Tumuki Kauri. …” The crowd became very still as one of the elders of the tribe began chanting a welcome and Mura’s brother dressed in a traditional costume began hopping, gliding, and twirling his taiaha (spear) above his head. Slowly he approached the gate where several pakeha strangers stood.
Placing a fern branch on the ground, Mura’s brother backed away and a very distinguished-looking man picked it up to show that they were friends. The whole congregation began singing as the group walked toward the front of the meetinghouse.
After the opening song and prayer, the chief of Mura’s tribe began to speak. As he spoke, her mind began to drift to all the things she and Rangi could be doing instead of sitting in the hot sun listening to stuffy preachers, but her attention was drawn back to the speaker when she heard him say, “And now we will hear from Tumuki Matiu Kauri (President Matthew Cowley).”
With that the crowd was completely still. Not a whisper or breath could be heard from the hundreds of people as the stately man, who had picked up the fern leaf earlier, rose and began to speak in perfect Maori. If Mura had closed her eyes, she would have thought it was her grandfather speaking. Each word seemed to sink deeply into her heart as Tumuki Kauri spoke of love and peace and of Jesus’ life on earth.
For the first time in Mura’s life she knew what it was like to hear a man of God. He spoke for an hour and a half without losing one of his eager listeners.
When the meeting was over, Mura told her mother that she wanted to see President Cowley up close. Before her mother had a chance to reply, Mura disappeared through the crowd.
After working her way through the jungle of legs, Mura made it to the meetinghouse. There she saw him. As the people who were waiting to greet the great Tumuki approached, he would shake their hands, press noses in a Maori hongi, and say a few words in Maori to them. He called many of them by name.
Mura hesitated to approach the president; besides, the line was very long, so she stood back and watched him shaking hands. Then, suddenly, he left the line of people waiting to see him and started walking directly toward Mura.
With a big smile, he bent down and picked up the surprised girl. “What is your name?” he asked.
“Mura Tarawa,” she said shyly.
“Oh yes, Brother Tarawa’s little girl. I hear you are the prettiest little girl in town.”
Mura smiled and flung her arms around President Cowley’s neck. And as she hugged him, Mura felt more sure than ever that this man who had come to visit her people was truly an apostle of the Lord.

Losing my mother when I was 10 was the most difficult moment of my life. My pain was deep and overwhelming. My life became confused, and I could not focus on school. Worse, my father was not around either. I was completely alone. I had no perspective and didn’t know how to move forward with my life. I was unprepared to manage the grief and pain of living without my mom. I had to learn to do everything on my own and I especially had to learn to defend myself from bad influences around me.
Today, thinking back on those times, I know I was never alone. I always had my Heavenly Father by my side. As a child, I attended an all-girls Catholic school, and the nuns were of immense help to me, teaching me how to make good choices. They taught me to love God, to believe in Him, and most of all, to trust Him.

Regarding administrations, I have had occasion to administer to my own children under traumatic circumstances. One such experience occurred one night when our oldest son, Darrin, was suffering from a painful earache. He had been screaming because of the intensity of the pain; but soon after I gave him a blessing, he exhibited relief and drifted into sleep, obviously exhausted.

The next morning we took him to the pediatrician, who informed us that Darrin’s eardrum had burst in the night, relieving the pressure of serious infection and allowing him to sleep. We are astonished because we knew exactly when the break would have occurred. Because there was a genuine possibility that his hearing might have been permanently impaired, the doctor advised us to take him to an ear specialist after medication had alleviated the infection.

When we took him to a specialist a few weeks later, we were amazed that the specialist was unable to discern any problem with Darrin’s ear. He pronounced the eardrum in perfect condition, with no sign of a break. It was a powerful, sobering experience which taught us in an especially forceful way the power of the Lord and the efficacy of priesthood blessings.

As the flight attendants began their usual safety instructions, I checked to make sure my son, Max, was secured in his infant carrier in the seat next to me on the airplane.
I reflected on the day Max was born a few months prior. When I held him for the first time in the hospital, I was determined to do everything in my power to keep him safe, teach him how to find happiness, and provide everything he would need to successfully navigate this life.
I’m sure most fathers experience these feelings. Mine were particularly poignant as I looked into his eyes and remembered the struggle of infertility that preceded his birth, with the physical, emotional, and spiritual toll that it took on me and my wife.
The flight attendants had just explained the way to use the overhead oxygen masks during an emergency, and when one of them reached our row, she had a look of absolute seriousness. She pointed right at me. “If the masks come down, you put yours on first before helping him,” she said, pointing at Max. For some reason, the emphasis with which she said the word first struck me like lightning.
Looking out the airplane window, I imagined the scene—oxygen masks deploying, doubting that I would feel comfortable wasting any time to help Max. Then the thought came to me of the words Jesus Christ spoke to Peter, whose only desire in that moment was to serve and protect the Savior: “When thou art converted, strengthen thy brethren” (Luke 22:32).
And it hit me: the best way I can help Max is to first help myself. I realized that if I needed to secure my own oxygen mask, it would only take a few seconds, but then I could fully and properly help Max. I thought for the remainder of the flight about the small and simple things—much more eternally important than oxygen masks—that I can do first that would put me in the best position to then help Max, to first become converted and to then strengthen others.

One evening last summer the 64 members of the “Sounds of Friendship” performing group from the LDS Institute of Religion at Utah State University were worrying if they could keep the interest of 2,000 young people who didn’t speak English. The “Sounds” were to perform the next evening for youth groups from such countries as East Germany, Poland, Russia, and Bulgaria at the Youth Pop-folk Celebration at Primorsko, Bulgaria, a resort on the Black Sea. The Utahns hoped to make a lasting impression but were worried about the language differences and the cold, windy amphitheater where they would be performing. The next night, however, the weather suddenly turned warm and the “Sounds” presented their full concert to the entire audience. In fact, one group of listeners kept their bus waiting because they didn’t want to leave the performance! The language barrier had been broken.
The concert in Primorsko was part of a three-week tour of Rumania and Bulgaria for the “Sounds,” officially known as the “Sounds of Zion” in the United States. “While on tour we had to change our name, since we were not allowed to perform as a religious group,” explained member Alex Baugh. “So we centered our program on themes of happiness, joy, and the home and family. Yet at every concert we were able to sing ‘The Battle Hymn of the Republic,’ and ‘God Be with You.’ In this way we let them know how much our country and our Heavenly Father mean to us.”
In addition, the group was allowed to hand out picture postcards of Utah, the temples, and other Church buildings; Articles of Faith cards; buttons with their pictures on them; and Frisbees carrying the message “‘The Sounds of Friendship’ (The Mormons), Logan, Utah, USA.” The “Sounds” concluded their tour by taping a full-length show for Rumanian television, the first American group to do so. Director of the group, James Bradley, organized the “Sounds of Zion” 22 years ago with the purpose of forming an organization that could radiate the gospel in song and dance. He summed up the most recent trip by saying, “To me, it is almost a miracle to overcome so many difficulties and still be so effective. When the gospel doors are opened into Rumania and Bulgaria, I feel there will be many people who will welcome the missionaries with open arms.”

One of these members was a sister from the beautiful island of Okinawa. The story of her journey to the Hawaii Temple is remarkable. Two decades earlier, she had been married in a traditional arranged Buddhist wedding. Just a few months later, Japan attacked Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, thrusting the United States into a conflict with Japan. In the wake of battles such as Midway and Iwo Jima, the tides of war pushed the Japanese forces back to the shores of her island home, Okinawa, the last line of defense standing against the Allied forces before the heartlands of Japan.
For a harrowing three months in 1945, the Battle of Okinawa raged. A flotilla of 1,300 American warships encircled and bombarded the island. Military and civilian casualties were enormous. Today a solemn monument in Okinawa lists more than 240,000 known names of people who perished in the battle.
In a desperate attempt to escape the onslaught, this Okinawan woman, her husband, and their two small children sought refuge in a mountain cave. They endured unspeakable misery through the ensuing weeks and months.
One desperate night amidst the battle, with her family near starvation and her husband unconscious, she contemplated ending their suffering with a hand grenade, which the authorities had supplied to her and others for that purpose. However, as she prepared to do so, a profoundly spiritual experience unfolded that gave her a tangible sense of the reality of God and His love for her, which gave her the strength to carry on. In the following days, she revived her husband and fed her family with weeds, honey from a wild beehive, and creatures caught in a nearby stream. Remarkably, they endured six months in the cave until local villagers informed them that the battle had ended.

Ellie D., 13, stands in the ashes of her former home. “I was surprised at how little I missed the things that were gone,” she says. “They’re just things, and you get over missing them.”
Ellie also learned that it’s important to have a quiet place to think. She found one in a small attic loft of the rental house where her family lived after the fire. She hung photos of Church leaders, friends, and family on the wall, and played a guitar donated to her school after the fire. “I learned that quiet places help you think about what’s really important, especially after a tragedy,” she says. “The scripture says, ‘Be still, and know that I am God’ (Psalm 46:10).”
In the ashes, her family found a figurine that belonged to Ellie’s grandmother. “It reminds me that angels are watching over us,” Ellie says.

What is more amazing than seeing a child smile for the first time?
Nothing, as Devan Griner found out personally when he served as a youth volunteer on a two-week mission with Operation Smile to Vietnam. There he helped very young patients overcome their fears about doctors as they waited for their turns to have cleft palates or other facial deformities repaired. Devan also started a Smile Club in Skyline High School in his hometown of Salt Lake City, Utah.
Devan is the first to tell that he is not the only LDS teen working long and hard for Operation Smile. When he was elected to serve on the national youth council, he met Amanda Fairbourne, also on the national council, who is a member of the Church from Plymouth, Minnesota.
The chapter Devan helped organize at his high school is also not the first in Utah. The Bountiful High School chapter was organized first, but the members unselfishly helped him get a chapter going at his high school.
But sometimes that’s what it takes to be an everyday hero, not the person who is doing the most, or even the one who is doing it first, just the one who is doing all he can to serve in a good cause. And Devan is doing just that. He persuaded his school to donate the proceeds from their annual Millions of Pennies charity drive to Operation Smile. Because Operation Smile was such a good cause, the school responded with unprecedented enthusiasm. The thought of putting a smile on a child’s face was enough to melt the toughest hearts. Their donation became the biggest youth chapter donation ever received at the national headquarters.
Operation Smile started 15 years ago when a plastic surgeon and his wife, who also served as his nurse, went to the Philippines and donated their time to repairing cleft palates for several weeks. So many children were turned away that they were determined to come again. And they did, this time bringing other volunteer doctors, nurses, and anesthesiologists.
The good work spread. Soon doctors from all over the United States were donating their time on surgical teams visiting countries where cosmetic surgery to repair deformities was too expensive or nonexistent.
Teenagers wanted to get involved. They started forming clubs to raise money for the supplies the doctors and nurses needed to take with them. The surgeons and medical personnel donated their time, airlines often donated the flight tickets, but money was still needed to fly all the equipment needed to set up operating rooms in countries around the world. The surgical teams would sometimes operate 16 hours a day, each doctor handling as many as 30 little patients. “That’s the cool thing,” says Devan. “In a matter of 30 minutes in cleft palate surgery, a child’s life is changed forever. Before, the kids have big huge holes. Sometimes they wear bandannas because they feel disgraced. They often aren’t allowed to attend school, and some are even abandoned by their parents. A 30-minute operation changes that.”
Devan got his club involved in fund-raising. His friends and fellow club officers Travis Nilsson, Jared Ellsworth, and Ruth Ann Romney were soon as enthusiastic as Devan about seeing healthy smiles on the faces of children. The Skyline Club used video presentations and plenty of talk to spread the word. Also, Devan was trained to be one of two youth volunteers to go on a mission with one of the surgical teams. Sent to Vietnam, Devan was not entirely prepared for what he would see.
“I met a kid about 14 who had a bad burn contracture. A contracture is when the scar pulls as it heals. He fell on a lamp when he was six months old. His burn was on his face and neck, and it pulled his head to the side and pulled his eye down. It kind of surprised me. I didn’t know how to react.
“I was juggling for the kids and blowing bubbles to entertain them as they waited for their turn in surgery. Every time I looked at him, he was watching me. He liked the bubbles. His chin was pulled down so far by the scar that he couldn’t bring his lips together enough to blow bubbles. I gave him the bubble wand, and he started making huge bubbles, putting on a show for everyone. It kind of hit me. He looks horrible, but inside he was great. I could tell he was trying to smile because he was having fun.
“I saw him after his operation. The surgeons released the burn scar and removed a lot of scar tissue. His eye went back to normal. His mouth came back up. He had some skin grafts. After the operation, I went over and shook his hand. He could actually smile. It was cool.”

Moleni hurried to finish weaving his palm-leaf basket. He tucked the last end in and raced toward the water. When the tide was low, he and other boys collected fingota (shellfish) for supper. Their moms would steam them with vegetables from their gardens.
Hurrying home with his fingota, Moleni ran into the yard and picked breadfruit to eat with the shellfish. On the way to his house he had found several coconuts to add to his bounty.
His mother was preparing supper in the kitchen, a small room separate from the house.
“Here, Mother,” he said, giving her the food that he’d brought. “May I go now?”
“Yes, dear, but don’t be gone long. Supper’s almost ready.”
Moleni knew that his mother thought that he was going swimming, but today he had something more important to do!
Moleni needed money to buy a new white shirt. He was to be ordained a deacon on Sunday, and he wanted to honor his priesthood by dressing properly. His father, Tevita Finau, had been a missionary and had been known in the Tongan islands as a very faithful member of the Church. Moleni wanted to be just like him; he wanted to look like the missionary picture his mother had of his father.
Since his father’s death, his mother supported the family by selling crops from their garden. She also sold copra (dried coconut meat). For all her hard work, she earned only fourteen dollars for every ton of copra that she dried. There was never enough money.
Moleni had to earn the money for the shirt himself. He didn’t want his mother to even guess how important it was to him—she had enough to worry about. Only his Primary teacher and his best friend, Sione, knew about his plans.
Weeks ago he had planted talo (taro, a starchy root) in a place in their garden where his mother wouldn’t find it. Now it was ready to take to the market. Sister Fonua, his Primary teacher, had said that she would sell it there for him, and tomorrow was market day.
Swiftly Moleni dug up the roots. He washed off the dirt, wrapped the roots in wet leaves, and placed them in a basket. Gathering up the basketful of talo together with mats and baskets that he had woven to sell, he walked as fast as he could to Sister Fonua’s home.
She pulled back the leaves and looked at the roots. “That’s the best talo I’ve seen,” she said. “I’m sure that it will sell well.” She looked at the empty baskets. “These baskets are tight and well woven too. But, Moleni,” she added unhappily, “this still won’t bring enough money.”
The boy’s heart sank. He had worked so hard. “If I catch some fish to sell, too, will it be enough?” he asked anxiously.
“It wouldn’t be enough for a ready-made shirt,” she said after thinking for a minute, “but I could buy enough material to make you one myself.”
“Thank you, Sister Fonua,” Moleni told her gratefully as he hurried away. “I’ll bring the fish early in the morning.”
On his way home he stopped at Sione’s and asked if he wanted to go fishing too.
“What are you up to?” his mother asked as he gulped his supper. “You’ve been acting funny lately.”
“Sione is going fishing with me,” he answered. “I don’t want to be late.”
“We could use some fish for breakfast,” his mother said, smiling at him as he finished his supper. She was proud of Moleni. She knew that he worked hard to help feed the family.
“There will be fish for breakfast,” he promised her.
Sione was already at the beach when Moleni got there. Neither of the boys owned a fishing pole or a boat, so they speared fish in the shallow water of the tide pools.
Sione was sending fish to market too. He and his brothers helped provide for their family also. They laughed together as they worked, and they worked hard. But by sundown, they had just three kiokio (a kind of fish) each.
“You can have my fish,” Sione offered. “I can catch some more tomorrow.”
“No,” Moleni answered. “Your family needs money too.”
They sat on the sand to think. Suddenly Moleni jumped up. “There is enough fish,” he said.
“Huh? How do you figure that?” Sione asked.
“There’s enough kiokio to send to market if we have something else, too,” Moleni told his friend. “There’s one thing that my family would rather have than kiokio: ‘uo (lobster).”
“Why didn’t I think of that?” Sione exclaimed. “Let’s go get my maama kasa (lantern). We’ll need it to find the ‘uo in the dark.”
The boys ran back to Sione’s home. They put their kiokio in water to stay fresh, then returned to the beach. It was very dark. The light from the maama kasa showed many scurrying ‘uo. Careful to not get pinched by the big claws, they grabbed the lobsters and put them into woven baskets.
“We’ll have a feast tomorrow!” Sione whooped. “These are the biggest ‘uo that I’ve ever seen.”
“There’s enough to give Sister Fonua a basketful, too,” Moleni said happily. “It can be a thank-you gift from me.”
“Sunday is just three days away,” Sione said with concern. “Will she have time to make your shirt?”
“I don’t know. But I know that she’ll do it if she can. And won’t mother be surprised if I show up for church in a white shirt?”
Early the next morning Sione and Moleni took their fish and lobsters to Sister Fonua. She was pleased with the fish and the ‘uo.
“This is enough,” she told Moleni. “And the shirt will be ready for Sunday.”
The next two days seemed to last forever. Moleni could hardly eat or sleep. His mother watched him anxiously, afraid that he was sick.
Finally Sunday came. Moleni slipped out early with his clean clothes and hurried to the meeting-house. There was a trough there where children could bathe—he wanted to be clean for the Sabbath!
Moleni bathed slowly and carefully. When he put on his new shirt, he felt truly special. He knew that his father would be proud of him.
He walked back home and went to the kitchen. His mother turned as he came in the door.
“Moleni! Where did you get that shirt?” Tears rolled down her cheeks as she looked at him. “You look just like your father.”
Moleni grinned. “I earned the money for the material, and Sister Fonua made it for me.”
It was a proud family that walked to church that day. Sister Fonua and Moleni’s mother both beamed when Moleni passed the sacrament. The Finau family had the priesthood in their home again!

I can be like Jesus by being nice to my friends. One of my friends has a lot of video games. While I was at his house one day, he kept playing games without giving me a turn. I wanted to play, too, and I felt like whining and complaining. But I remembered that my mom had told me complaining wasn’t nice. So I let him play and waited my turn. I try to be like Jesus so I can live with Him and Heavenly Father again.

When Jamie’s mother came to get him from his Primary class, he was very excited. “I’m giving a talk in Primary next Sunday.”
“That’s wonderful,” said Mother. “You ask Daddy to help you.”
While Mother fixed dinner, Daddy helped Jamie think about what to say. That evening, Mother helped him practice the words.
On Monday Jamie practiced as he swung back and forth in the swing. On Tuesday he practiced while he shoveled sand from the sandpile into his dump truck.
He even practiced in front of the mirror in the bathroom at night before he went to bed.
Later in the week, he gave his talk to his best friend, Grandpa Strong.
“Good talk,” Grandpa told him.
Jamie’s sister, Ann, listened to his talk while she curled her hair. “Nice job,” she said.
On Saturday Jamie said his talk to the dog while she was sleeping in a patch of sunlight. I know every word now, Jamie thought. I’m ready to give my talk tomorrow.
In the morning, Jamie put on his blue pants and white shirt and red bow tie and blue jacket. In Primary he sat on a seat behind the pulpit and listened to the prayer and scripture reading.
Sister Dodson said, “Jamie will give his talk now.”
Jamie stood at the pulpit. His mommy and daddy sat in the back of the room and smiled at him. All the other children looked at him. Then something happened: When Jamie started to say the words, nothing came out of his mouth! He tried to think, but all he could think of was that he had forgotten his talk. Big tears came to his eyes. He stood there and didn’t know what to do.
Then he saw Daddy come toward him. Daddy knelt down beside him and put his arm around him and told him the first words of the talk. Jamie started to remember the rest of his talk. With Daddy’s arm firmly around him, Jamie said every word.
After Sharing Time, lots of people told him that he had given a good talk. Jamie felt good. He had tried hard all by himself, and with Daddy’s help, Jamie had given his first talk.
After church Jamie took Daddy’s hand. “Thanks for helping me,” he said.
Daddy squeezed his hand. “You know, Jamie, when I get stuck I ask my Father to help me. I can depend on his help. Do you know whom I’m talking about?”
Jamie smiled. “Heavenly Father.”
“That’s right, son. Heavenly Father will always be there to help you.”