Gospel Story Finder

A few months later, I got a job. Once we bore our first son, whom we named Powell Blamo Nepay, going to the temple became even more important. We have been planning and pondering on visiting the house of the Lord to be sealed for time and all eternity.
I work for one of the biggest GSM (Global System for Mobile Communications) companies in Liberia as a customer value management coordinator. Part of my many duties is to raise revenue for the company as I stimulate inactive, active, and new customers to either increase their recharge and/or purchasing power. Each time we planned to go to the temple, my bosses always rejected my leave plan and asked that I continue the job since there is more work to do.
In 2023, I relocated from the New Kru Town 1st Ward to the Caldwell New Georgia Ward where my family and I now live. With the assistance of the priesthood leaders in the Caldwell Liberia Stake, I again started planning and vowed that this year we would go to the temple and that there is nothing that will stand in my way again.
We were scheduled to attend the Ghana Accra Temple in February 2023, and it was the same month that Elder. D. Todd Christopherson was due to come to Liberia. In addition to going to the temple, I was praying to be taught by an Apostle of the Lord. In Liberia, we have witnessed the visit of three Apostles since the Church was established here. I just couldn’t afford to miss this opportunity as I can’t wait for about five or six more years before seeing an Apostle in my land.
Fortunately, the Lord answered my prayer as the temple trip was postponed to April 10–13, 2023. What a great moment it was for my wife, and beautiful kids as we finally made the trip to Ghana. Our dream has finally come true! My lovely wife wept and said to me, “I am grateful that we are sealing today. This is a miracle all by itself as your boss finally accepted your impromptu leave plan.” Indeed, the Lord answers prayers. Apparently, the Lord wanted our four-year-old and one-year-old daughters to join their brother as we were sealed for this life and for the life to come.

When my husband, Mark, and I lived with our five small children on the east coast of the United States, we lived in a house that had an oil furnace. To check the oil level, we would put a measuring stick into the tank. And if the oil was low, we would call the heating oil company to come fill the tank.
During an unusually cold January, we were having financial problems. I even took a part-time job in the evenings at a restaurant to supplement our income, but we still had trouble making ends meet. It finally came down to the choice of paying tithing or paying to heat our house. We measured the oil and it came to two inches (5 cm). That would last only a day or two. But we decided to put our faith in the Lord and pay our tithing.
The next day, Mark measured the oil again. It was still at two inches. Mark measured it again the following day, and it was still at two inches. The heat was coming on, but the oil was not going down. The next two days, the oil remained at two inches. I remember crying tears of joy at night when I heard the heat come on. Our furnace was not running on oil; it was running on faith.
I felt like the widow who fed the prophet Elijah and found that her “barrel of meal wasted not, neither did the cruse of oil fail” (1 Kings 17:16). When payday finally came, Mark once again measured the oil. This time it measured at one inch (2.5 cm). Now the oil was going down, but we had money to fill the tank.
Our family had tested the Lord’s promise found in Malachi 3:10: “And prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it.”
Our family will never forget when our oil furnace ran on faith instead of oil.

I was in a conversation a few years ago about a certain topic that has some political ramifications, but the topic hasn’t really been addressed by the Church or the prophet. The person made a comment that if the prophet ever asked us to do what we were discussing, this person would not do it and for him it would mean that the prophet was no longer a true prophet. I was taken aback and thought that was a very rash decision. But after the conversation, I wondered: was there something that I felt strongly enough about, or that society’s current trends were so powerfully against, that could cause me to reject the prophet?

When a prophet’s counsel clashes with our personal feelings, desires, or convictions, or when that counsel opposes widely held views of society, what is our reaction? Joseph Smith said, “I have tried for a number of years to get the minds of the Saints prepared to receive the things of God; but we frequently see some of them, after suffering all they have for the work of God, will fly to pieces like glass as soon as anything comes that is contrary to their traditions: they cannot stand the fire at all.”3
President Henry B. Eyring, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, spoke about responding to counsel from prophets:
“When the words of prophets seem repetitive, that should rivet our attention and fill our hearts with gratitude to live in such a blessed time.

“Looking for the path to safety in the counsel of prophets makes sense to those with strong faith. When a prophet speaks, those with little faith may think that they hear only a wise man giving good advice. Then if his counsel seems comfortable and reasonable, squaring with what they want to do, they take it. If it does not, they consider it either faulty advice or they see their circumstances as justifying their being an exception to the counsel. Those without faith may think that they hear only men seeking to exert influence for some selfish motive…

“… The failure to take prophetic counsel lessens our power to take inspired counsel in the future. …

“Every time that I have listened to the counsel of prophets, felt it confirmed in prayer, and then followed it, I have found that I moved toward safety…

“Sometimes we will receive counsel that we cannot understand or that seems not to apply to us, even after careful prayer and thought. Don’t discard the counsel, but hold it close. If someone you trusted handed you what appeared to be nothing more than sand with the promise that it contained gold, you might wisely hold it in your hand awhile, shaking it gently. Every time I have done that with counsel from a prophet, after a time the gold flakes have begun to appear, and I have been grateful.”4
After Samuel the Lamanite described to the people how they had rejected the prophets and listened instead to others who taught them to “walk after the pride of [their] eyes, and do whatsoever [their] heart desire[d]” (Helaman 13:27), he asked two penetrating questions: “How long will ye suffer yourselves to be led by foolish and blind guides?” and “How long will ye choose darkness rather than light?” (Helaman 13:29).
No one would admit they wanted to be led by blind guides. Those who had been misled would not have labeled those who taught them the false philosophies as “blind guides.” In fact, it’s likely that those who did the misleading were often viewed as enlightened, forward-looking, brilliant, and socially aware.
I wonder how some of those blind guides from the Book of Mormon would fit in today. Think of Sherem, who was learned and had a perfect knowledge of the language of the people so he could use much flattery. With his command of the language, it’s certain he would take the Twitter world by storm. He would have many catchy, clever tweets that would be retweeted because he knew just how to turn a phrase or place a barb.
With Nehor’s great strength, costly apparel, and appeal to the people, he would garner a huge following on Instagram—modeling the “good life” without the constraints of commandments and use his pattern of bearing down on the Church and its teachings.
And Korihor would have millions of subscribers to his YouTube channel where he would have the freedom to make fun of believers and teach things that were “pleasing [to] the carnal mind” (Alma 30:53). He would “rise up in great swelling words … and … revile against” (Alma 30:31) the prophets and leaders of the Church. He would gather more subscribers as his message got out that “whatsoever a man did was no crime” (Alma 30:17).
Of course, the underlying current of all their communications would be that there is no Christ. Their teachings are not so modern or original. They are plagiarized from the author of lies. Even Korihor finally admitted that the devil taught him what to say (see Alma 30:53).
When individuals or societies separate themselves from the teachings of the Lord, which come through the prophets, they look for alternate teachings that allow them to live the way they want—without that pesky guilt.
Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles explained, “Sadly enough, my young friends, it is a characteristic of our age that if people want any gods at all, they want them to be gods who do not demand much, comfortable gods, smooth gods who not only don’t rock the boat but don’t even row it, gods who pat us on the head, make us giggle, then tell us to run along and pick marigolds.”5
Blind and foolish guides will never lead us to the joys and blessings the Lord would have us receive. As we follow the prophets, we need to be willing to stand up for what is right in the face of scorn and persecution, even if it is not popular.
While blind guides and the scorn of the world try to lead us away from God and his blessings, prophets beckon us to come to the Savior. Prophets don’t try to convince us to worship them but beckon us to worship and draw nearer to our Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ (see, for example, Lehi in 1 Nephi 8:12).
A few years ago, Jill and I were speaking with President Russell M. Nelson. He asked us if we would be willing to accept a different assignment. President Nelson has always been so kind to us and has treated Jill with great love and respect. After he asked the question about our willingness, Jill said, “We’d do anything for you, President Nelson.” He immediately responded, “Do it for Him.” This was striking for both Jill and me. He taught us a great lesson. President Nelson wanted us to have the proper motives and to keep our eyes where they should be directed.
When we are guided by the prophets, we actually follow the counsel because of Him—the Savior. His grace is sufficient for each of us.
We know of President Nelson’s own willingness to follow prophets throughout his life. He gave up a prestigious career opportunity as a result of counsel from the prophet. As a very busy surgeon with a large family, he studied Chinese because the prophet made a comment about needing members of the Church who could speak Chinese. We know that when President Thomas S. Monson asked the Church members to study the Book of Mormon, President Nelson dove right in. What would the Church or the world be like if each of us were as willing to follow the prophet as President Nelson has been?
I know that there are tremendous blessings as we follow the guidance the Lord gives through His prophets. If what they say clashes with current trends in society, let’s have the courage to follow, sustain, and defend. It won’t always lead to smooth sailing, but it will always lead to promised blessings and personal growth.

As you move from one priesthood service to another, you will see the Lord is in the work with you. I learned this from meeting an elders quorum president in a stake conference years ago. In the conference there were more than 40 names presented of men who were to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood.

The stake president leaned over to me and whispered, “Those men were all less-active prospective elders.” In amazement, I asked the president what his program was to rescue these men.

He pointed to a young man in the back of the chapel. He said, “There he is. Most of these men have been brought back because of that elders quorum president.” He was on the back row, dressed casually, his legs stretched out with his battered boots crossed in front of him.

I asked the stake president to introduce me to him after the meeting. When we met, I told the young man I was surprised by what he had done and asked him how he did it. He shrugged his shoulders. He obviously didn’t think he deserved any credit.

Then he said softly, “I know every inactive guy in this town. Most of them have pickup trucks. I have a truck too. I wash my pickup where they wash theirs. In time, they become my friends.

“Then I wait until something goes wrong in their lives. It always does. They tell me about it. I listen and I don’t find fault. Then, when they say, ‘There is something wrong in my life. There just has to be something better than this,’ I tell them what is missing and where they can find it. Sometimes they believe me, and when they do, I take them with me.”

You can see why he was modest. It was because he knew he had done his small part and the Lord was doing the rest. It was the Lord who had touched the hearts of those men in their troubles. It was the Lord who had given them the feeling that there must be something better for them and a hope that they could find it.

The young man, who—like you—was a servant of the Lord, simply believed that if he did his small part, the Lord would help those men along the path to home and to the happiness only He could give them. This man also knew the Lord had called him as elders quorum president because he would do his part.

In Belfast, in quieter times, I had two roommates—girls of another faith whom I had met through a mutual friend. None of us had any extra money. Carol and Anne were both midwifery students, and I was saving for a postgraduate nursing course.
Our apartment was dismal, faded, and hard to bear, but we could find no other place within our means.
Nevertheless, Carol and Anne decided to call the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children and offer to give a Christmas party for 12 needy children. Of course, I agreed to help with the work and the financing as did Carol’s sister Marian.
I had seen some of the miseries of the slums. The most appalling thing I remembered was a little girl in a torn summer dress sitting on the cold, windy sidewalk molding a lump of filthy clay because she had no other toy. I could not now find and help that child, but I could try to help some others.
Our Christmas tree was two feet high, decorated with nine small glass balls, one package of tinfoil icicles, and a star we had made from the foil inside a cracker box. The room was decorated with a few streamers and a dozen balloons. The food was simple—fried potatoes and sausages, grilled tomatoes, cookies, and orangeade. Fancy food is almost unknown to ghetto children, and we were afraid they would not eat anything unfamiliar. Besides, we couldn’t afford it. The 12 gifts were small and inexpensive: a string of plastic beads, a doll’s feeding set, a young child’s picture book, small toys and games. And, remembering the girl on the sidewalk, I bought a package of clay.
The children arrived semiclean and in their best rags. Eleven, twelve, thirteen! One of the girls had come with her toddler sister, who had refused to stay at home. That presented a problem.
In those days my annual project for the Relief Society bazaar was dressing little plastic dolls in sturdy clothes for girls to play with. Several such dolls were in my room. I quickly wrapped one of them in the last scrap of tissue paper for our extra guest and hurriedly put it under the tree.
Most of the children stood in a group at the door, but one determined boy about eight years old examined all the gifts through the paper.
“If you don’t mind, Missus,” he declared, “I’ll have this game of blow football for me and me mates.”
Carol smiled but was firm.
“We’re giving out the presents at the end of the party. Right now we’re going to play some games.”
We played their games; they played our games. We told stories; they related past experiences. We sang songs and grew decidedly tired of the children’s favorite, “Jingle Bells.”
“Last year,” announced the oldest girl, trying hard to be sophisticated in an ill-fitting sheath and high heels much too large, “I was to a party in the Linen Makers’ Hall. Hundreds of us there was, and a tree 30 feet high.”
“Was it grand, but?” asked a slightly envious voice.
“It wasn’t, for no one had time to talk with us like these good ladies are doing.”
We served the simple food, which first brought forth cries of delight and then the silence of serious eating.
“Ye’ve left food on your plate,” objected our blow football elf to his neighbor.
“I can’t eat it, but,” she replied, “for I’ve never had this much food on me plate at once.”
“Give it here, then, for ’tis a shame to waste good food.”
He ate several children’s leavings and then conceded defeat. He could not prevent a few scraps from going to waste.
We gave him the blow football game. We gave the 12-year-old, would-be sophisticate the plastic beads.
We gave the doll’s feeding set to a seven-year-old Raggedy Ann.
“It’s no use to me, Missus. I ain’t got a doll.”
So the Relief Society lost another plastic doll. This time it was wrapped in writing paper, and we pretended it had fallen behind the tree.
“’Tis the best party I was ever at,” someone announced with satisfaction. “I felt right to home.”
“Indeed it was grand, Missus,” seconded another voice. “For whenever we’uns wanted something, one of you ladies was near.”
I thought then that I had learned something about giving, but I was shortly to learn more. The sophisticate, I noticed, had traded her beads for the clay, the clay for a toy car, the toy car for the baby’s picture book.
“Sure it’ll do,” she said, trying to rewrap it. The used cellophane tape wouldn’t stick.
“And would you have a bit of string, Missus? And a pencil, please?”
I produced them, wondering. She tied the parcel awkwardly, and in large uneven letters she printed on it “TOMMY.”
She saw me looking and she explained: “’Tis me wee brother, Missus. Nobody invited him to a party, and we can’t afford him no present.”
Ragged, messy little girl in your run-over, outsized high heels, I seem to remember that you are beautiful.

Geoffrey got off his bike in front of Bob Tschaggeny’s home and sat down on the front steps with him.
“Monday it will start all over again,” said Bob. “School isn’t bad except for that first day. The teacher looks at my name ‘Tschaggeny’ on the card and doesn’t know how to pronounce it. He’s embarrassed and so am I. The same thing happens every year.”
“I know just what you mean,” said Geof, “but it’s my first name they can’t pronounce. The teacher starts to say ‘George,’ then tries ‘Geeof,’ and then ends up with ‘Jeff.’ Half the time they just call me George and I have to explain that my name is pronounced ‘Jeff.’”
“What would it be like to have a simple name?” mused Bob.
“Hi, Geof,” called their friend Mary who was walking along the sidewalk. “What are you two talking about? You look like the end of the world has come.”
“Not the world,” said Geof. “It’s the end of summer.”
“I’m glad,” said Mary. “I like school.”
“You would,” said Bob, “with a name like yours.”
“My name is dull,” responded Mary. “Mary Jones—how plain and ordinary!”
“Right,” said Geof, “but you don’t have to spell it or tell people how to pronounce it. Bob hates to have his name said wrong too. No teacher has said my name right yet.”
“But your names are distinguished. They’re different. They make you a somebody. Mary Jones—how bland. I wish my name were exciting. One year a girl named Huttaballe sat in front of me. The teacher said to her, ‘What an interesting name. What nationality is it?’ Then she looked at my card and just said, ‘Oh, Mary Jones.’”
That night Bob said to his parents, “Isn’t there something we could do with our name so it would be easier to pronounce? Why do we have a silent T in front?”
“Tschaggeny is an honorable Swiss name, son. You should be proud of it,” Father replied. “Our name has been on the records since 1500.”
In the Gordon home that night, Geof said to his mother, “Why did you have to name me after the old poet Geoffrey Chaucer? If you wanted to call me Jeff, why didn’t you spell it J-e-f-f?”
“We didn’t name you after the poet, Geof,” said his mother. “We thought that spelling your name with a “G” looked better with Gordon, and it seemed to suit you very well.”
As Mary Jones helped her mother with the dishes that night, she said, “I always thought it would be nice to have a distinctive name, but Bob Tschaggeny and Geoffrey Gordon are disgusted because they have to spell and pronounce their names for our new teacher every year. I guess none of us are satisfied.”
“Mary,” said her mother, “every time I say your name I remember all the lovely Marys I’ve known or read about. It makes your name even more beautiful to me.”
Monday morning, Bob, Geof, and Mary were seated at their desks in school, waiting to welcome their new teacher. He stood behind his desk, very tall and very straight. He nodded to the class and then wrote the word “One” on the chalkboard.
When the bell rang, the teacher said, “You will each notice a number on the upper left-hand corner of your desk. That number will identify you. We will no longer use names. Your number should be put at the top of all your papers too. You are to address me as ‘One.’”
The class began, and through reading, social studies, arithmetic, and gym, each student was called by a number. No names were used. Bob and Geof thought the idea was great. Their problem seemed to be solved.
During supper that night, Bob’s father asked him if the new teacher could pronounce his name correctly.
“He didn’t have to,” laughed Bob. “We don’t have names this year. The teacher gave each of us a number instead.”
“Do you like that better?” asked his father.
“Well,” said Bob, “It’s been great so far.”
“So you really don’t need a name,” his father questioned further. “It seems very impersonal to me.”
“I still like it fine,” Bob insisted, but he didn’t sound quite so sure this time.
When Geof came home from school his mother asked, “Well, who is it this time? George, Geeof, or Geof?”
“None of those,” said Geof. “This year I’m ‘Ten.’” Then he explained the new teacher’s system of using numbers.
“That’s interesting,” said Mother, “How does he call the numbers? Does he say each one loudly with a different feeling or tone?”
“Nope,” said Geof, “he just stands tall and straight and says numbers without a smile or a nod or any feeling.”
“Guess what? We don’t need names this year,” Mary told her mother when she reached home after school.
“What do you mean?” asked Mother.
“We all have numbers so we don’t use any names. And would you believe it, I’m ‘Thirteen.’ Isn’t that different for me to be called something distinctive?”
In a few weeks the novelty of being known as numbers had worn off. Mary, Bob, and Geof were glad when Friday night came so that for two days at least they would be called by their own names. All the children agreed that school didn’t seem the same as it had other years. Everyone was disinterested. There was no spirit of competition or sharing and little concern about success or failure.
One Monday morning on the way to school Mary saw Bob and Geof just poking along.
“What’s wrong now?” she called.
“What fun is it to go to school and just be ‘Ten’ again?” Geof asked.
“Or ‘Thirteen’” Mary replied. “I don’t like being called ‘Thirteen.’ I like the way my mother calls me ‘Mary’ and I wish everyone else would too.”
“Well, I wish …” But Bob’s wish was cut off by the sound of the bell, and the three friends hurried to class.
At the door of the classroom the teacher stood smiling. He handed each of them a piece of chalk and said, “Good morning. Please take this chalk and write your full name on the board with the others.”
After the last student sat down, they all looked up at the chalkboard. It was covered with the names of everyone in class and it looked good! Across the top in large letters the name SAM SMITH was written.
The teacher turned to the class. “Thank you,” he said, “for cooperating with me in my experiment these past weeks. You helped me prove something. When you became a number, you each seemed to become less of a person. You were interested and excited boys and girls at the beginning of the school year. Now you don’t seem to care much about school or each other.”
The students looked around at their classmates as the teacher continued, “My name is Sam Smith. I’m glad to know each of you by your names—Thomas Ward, Robert Tschaggeny, Geoffrey Gordon, Mary Jones, John Martin. …”
Mr. Smith looked at each one with a friendly smile on his face as he said the names. “Now let’s remember who we really are and work together,” he suggested.
“Thank you, Mr. Sam Smith,” Bob said.
“Yes, thank you, Mr. Smith,” the other boys and girls chorused. “That’ll be great!”

Our friend Bette shared an experience she had at church when she was 10 years old. She said: “Our teacher was sharing a lesson about temple marriage. She specifically asked me, ‘Bette, your parents weren’t married in the temple, were they?’ [My teacher and the rest of the class] knew the answer.” The teacher’s lesson followed, and Bette imagined the worst. Bette said, “I had many tearful nights. When I had heart problems two years later and thought I was going to die, I panicked, thinking I would be alone forever.”

A veteran airline pilot may no longer be flying, but that won’t stop him from ministering to others on the ground.
On April 1 of 2024, Air Marshall Islands (AMI) held a surprise ceremony for Captain Albon “Al” Jelke at Amata Kabua International Airport in Majuro to commemorate his final flight as chief pilot for the national airline.
Brother Jelke, a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, was the longest-serving pilot in AMI’s history, with over 43 years of flight service. US Federal Aviation Administration regulations prevent pilots above 65 from flying commercially, a milestone Brother Jelke reached in April. He will remain with AMI as general manager, a post he’s held for over two years.
Strong emotions were displayed by his fellow employees at the ceremony on April 1, including president of the Marshall Islands, Hilda Heine, who honored Brother Jelke for his commitment and service. The admiration expressed by AMI employees and people on social media attests to his friendly nature and dedication.
“I’ve retired from flying but as the CEO/general manager of Air Marshall Islands, I can still fly as a passenger and minister to my people,” Brother Jelke said. “It just won’t be as frequent as when I was a pilot.”

One day I came home from track practice exhausted. I had a lot of homework due the next day, practice had been grueling, and I was hungry and tired. Trying not to think of all the chores I still had to do, I made it through the doors of my house. My thoughts weren’t so happy as I marched down to the basement. I was ready to lash out at anybody who was in my way. As I made my way into the kitchen, I smelled dinner, which was nearly ready, and saw that my sister was just finishing the dishes. The other rooms were also clean, and good music was playing on the radio. I dropped my stuff in my room and came out to see who had cleaned the place. I asked my sister about it, and she said, “I decided that you might like some supper. And the dishes needed to be done, and you weren’t going to be home for a while, so I just decided to surprise you.” I was overwhelmed. I hugged her. Making my way to my room, my entire attitude changed. Although my day had started off not so great, it ended well, because my sister decided to show an act of kindness. I knelt down and poured out my gratitude to my Father in Heaven.

Through EnglishConnect, Haustia Rocha Ballam took responsibility for her education as she increased her testimony of the gospel.

“Don’t give up on your dreams,” says Haustia, who completed a degree through BYU–Pathway Worldwide.

Photograph courtesy of BYU–Pathway Worldwide
Haustia Rocha Ballam wanted to learn English so she could pursue a university degree through BYU–Pathway Worldwide. As a new member of the Church, she also wanted to learn more about the gospel. EnglishConnect was her ticket to do both.
“I did not speak English,” recalls Haustia, from Bahia, Brazil. “I could only say ‘Hi’ and ‘How are you?’”
Haustia says she will always remember her first EnglishConnect in-person gathering, where she wondered if she would ever expand her English beyond simple greetings. That changed when one of the service missionaries bore his testimony at the end of the gathering.
“I was not understanding anything during the class, but I understood everything he said because I felt the Spirit,” she says. “That helped me not to give up. When I left the gathering, I was so happy, with determination to learn English and to keep studying with EnglishConnect.”
Photograph courtesy of BYU–Pathway Worldwide
With that determination—and a lot of hard work, prayer, and faith—Haustia overcame her shyness and fear. She learned gospel principles “that helped me take responsibility to become what I want to be in the future.” And she became a “lead student,” making lifelong friends, helping others, and gaining confidence.
After EnglishConnect, Haustia continued to BYU–Pathway Worldwide, where she completed foundational courses (called PathwayConnect) and then a bachelor’s degree online in applied health from Brigham Young University–Idaho. She said her education has opened doors to many job opportunities. Today she works in health-related customer support.
“When we learn English and learn about the gospel at the same time, Heavenly Father helps us by giving us revelation to learn,” she says. “I would tell new students, ‘Don’t give up on your dreams. Embrace this incredible opportunity to study through EnglishConnect and BYU–Pathway Worldwide. It will bring you important opportunities to achieve your educational and spiritual goals.’”

I have a friend like you. More than forty years ago we were in the mission field together. In the years that followed he went off to war. In his loneliness he picked up with careless companions. He married out of the Church. He followed habits which had made him feel he would not be welcomed. He moved from one part of the country to another. His identity was lost.
One Sunday I found myself in a California city for a stake conference. My name and picture had been in the local newspaper. The phone rang at the stake center as the stake president and I entered the building that morning. The call was for me, and the caller identified himself. He wanted to see me. I excused myself from the meeting I was to have held early that morning and asked the stake president to carry on with it. I had something more important to do.
He came, this friend of mine, timidly and somewhat fearfully. He had been away for a long time. We embraced as brothers long separated. At first the conversation was awkward, but it soon warmed as we discussed together days spent in England many years ago. There were tears in the eyes of this strong man as he spoke of the Church of which he had once been so effective a part, and then told of the long, empty years that had followed. He dwelt upon them as a man speaks of nightmares. When he had described those wasted years, we talked of his returning. He thought it would be difficult, that it would be embarrassing, but he agreed to try.
I had a letter from him not long ago. He said, “I’m back. I’m back, and how wonderful it feels to be home again.”

Third, from President Gordon B. Hinckley: President Hinckley is a much-traveled prophet and President. His presence, his example, his testimony have been shared throughout the world. About five years ago he returned from a visit to the southeast area of the United States, where he spoke to tens of thousands. The morning after his return home, President Hinckley said he felt a bit weary. In the next breath, he commented, “I’ve learned of the terrible suffering endured by the people of Central America because of the rampaging floods which engulfed homes, fields, and many persons. I feel a need to visit the stricken area, and so I, along with Elder L. Tom Perry and Bishop H. David Burton, will leave by plane in two days in order to do so.” We reviewed with the President information concerning the supplies already sent and received at distribution points, plus those which were en route by air and by ship.

President Hinckley returned from his three-day trip rejoicing in a welfare program which works. He met with the members. He met with the missionaries. He complimented throngs who were at work cleaning up the debris which once was homes.

President Hinckley gave them encouragement and assurances of additional assistance, but more than this, he gave to them himself. We express thanks to our Heavenly Father for such a prophet.

I had a similar experience in Idaho some years later. I was attending a stake conference. After the Sunday morning session one of the bishops brought his aged mother up to see me. I had been referring to the Book of Mormon during my sermon and was still holding it in my hand.
She took the book from me, opened it, read a paragraph at random, and then returned the book. I wondered why. Then she said that at the previous stake conference the visitor had been Elder Thomas E. McKay, one of the Assistants to the Council of the Twelve.
She asked me if I knew Elder McKay and of course, I responded that I did. Then she said, “Will you please tell him that I read a paragraph in your book? When he was here at our last conference, my son brought him to my home and had him administer to me. I was blind. Please tell him that I read from your book.”

There weren’t any strings attached—and this was one case where they could have been. Members and missionaries of the Yamagata (Japan) Branch staged a puppet show centered on the Book of Mormon.
The missionaries suggested the subject, and the members put together the script. Everyone wanted to get into the show, so the Relief Society sisters made the hand puppets and the brethren built the stage and props for the presentation. Lighting and other technical areas were handled by members also. The missionaries provided the willing hands for the puppets. Members and nonmembers were invited, and after the show, questions were answered and basic gospel principles were explained.
Working in the Japan Sendai Mission, the Yamagata elders have contacted investigators in department stores, while singing in neighborhoods, and on a local radio station. The missionaries credit “an enthusiastic attitude” with their success. “By everyone working together we can truly feel the love of the gospel,” said one elder.

One of the most difficult times in my life was during my sophomore year in high school. My brother Sid was the greatest big brother. We were really close even though he was seven years older. I basically lived to be with my dad and older brother, and Sid served the big-brother role perfectly. I was just a tagalong, and he didn’t mind at all.
Sid had quit high school so he could work to help put food on our table and help Mom and Dad with the bills. To show you what kind of brother Sid was, he would work these long days on his construction job, then come home and work out with me. He would be wearing his big heavy boots from his job and still run patterns while I played quarterback and threw the ball to him. Here was my brother playing receiver for me after a long day at work when he probably would have rather gone in and relaxed. But that’s the kind of brother Sid was.
One weekend in November during my sophomore year, my family went to a small family reunion in Washington. Sid and I stayed behind to work around the farm. We spent the whole weekend together and had a really good time.
When my family returned, Sid left to take a friend to Sun Valley (Idaho). On his way back from dropping his friend off, he had a head-on collision and was killed. I’ll always remember sleeping on the floor of our trailer home when a knock came at the door at two in the morning and the most terrible feeling coming over me. An off-duty policeman had come to tell us Sid had been killed in an accident.
That was the hardest thing to have to go through. And it was tougher for my parents because they had already had their two-year-old daughter die because of a bronchial problem, and a baby boy die of crib death before I was even born.
And although there is pain for the loss of a loved one, I understood. I understood the plan of salvation and the eternal perspective. When I lost Sid, I asked why it had to happen. I also asked Heavenly Father, Why me? How could things get any harder in my life? Sid had always told me I would make it in the National Football League, and his death made me more determined to do that.
Within two years, I had grown to six-foot-three which made me attractive as a football player. I had always hoped to be a quarterback and was named the starter as a sophomore. This caused a lot of resentment among the juniors and seniors, and I ended up playing on a team with a bunch of guys who hated me. It made it very hard to succeed. I knew if I was going to play college football, I had to get out of that town.
After my junior year, I moved to St. Anthony (Idaho) to live with my sister and attend high school there. I knew I would be living in a Mormon community, where a lot of the kids at school were Mormon. I thought all my problems were finally behind me. It didn’t work out that way. Again I was the new kid on the block. I immediately tried out for the football team and was named the starting quarterback. That was great for me, but I beat out the guy who had started at that position the year before.
Nobody seemed happy about the new competition, and hardly anybody was friendly to me during the football season. When I finally broke into their circle and made friends, the season was over.
Since St. Anthony is close to Rexburg, home of Ricks College, I decided I would try to walk on Ricks’s football team. The coaches there wouldn’t give me a scholarship, so I practiced with them for a couple of weeks hoping to prove myself. When they still wouldn’t give me a scholarship, I had to quit. I just didn’t have enough money to pay tuition.
I now had a decision to make. Some guys I knew from St. Anthony told me about a good-paying job up in the woods cutting trees. Instead, I told them I was going to stay in Rexburg and get a job there so I could lift weights every night at the college. I told them I was going to play football the next year. They just laughed and thought I was crazy. After making the decision to stay, I never regretted not going with my friends.
During that year, I worked at a job throwing 50- and 100-pound grain sacks for nine hours a day. My pay was $3.60 an hour. After I got off work, I’d go down to the weight room and lift weights until ten at night. Everybody kept telling me I was crazy, and even my family questioned what I was doing. My family still supported me, but I think I was the only person in the world who thought I could make it—well, besides my girlfriend, Roxi, whom I later married.
That next year I earned a scholarship and played for Ricks. By this time I weighed 230 pounds and had switched from quarterback to defensive lineman. After Ricks, I had coaches from Ohio State, Alabama, Georgia Tech, Arizona, Kansas, Texas, Texas Tech, and BYU recruiting me. I chose BYU, and I’m glad I did.
After my senior season with the Cougars, I knew I was going to be drafted by an NFL team, and it turned out to be the Cincinnati Bengals. By the end of my second season I was starting in the Super Bowl. In my third year with the Bengals, I led the team in sacks. Everything seemed great. But for some reason, at the beginning of my fourth year, I was sitting on the bench.
It seemed the coaches wanted bigger guys playing the defensive line positions, leaving me to stand on the sidelines. I knew I wasn’t in Cincinnati’s long-range plans, and sure enough I was cut toward the end of fall camp. The 1991 season was about ready to begin and I was out of football. All the other NFL teams had their rosters finalized, so I had to wait and hope a team would pick me up.
This was another terrible period in my life. I knew I was still good enough to play, yet I wasn’t being given the chance. A few weeks into the season the Seattle Seahawks seemed interested in signing me to a contract. Instead, they took another guy, which was one of the hardest blows of my career.
I came back to my home in Utah not knowing what to do or what was going to happen. I wasn’t giving up, but I was really down. To take my mind off my situation, I went to play golf by myself. It was fall, in the middle of the week, and nobody was there playing. I was out on the back nine all by myself crying and thinking about what I was going to do. I stopped my cart and had a word of prayer.
When I finished, I went from tears and this distraught feeling to the most wonderful, calm feeling that told me everything was going to be okay. That Sunday, I got a phone call from the Washington Redskins. They told me they had some injured players and needed a replacement.
It was amazing. One day I was crying, and the next thing I knew I was playing for one of the best organizations in the NFL. I left behind the Cincinnati Bengals, who finished 3–13 in 1991, and went to the Redskins, who went on to win the Super Bowl. I finished my first Redskin season with 12 tackles, three quarterback hurries, and one and a half quarterback sacks. Plus I earned a Super Bowl ring. Things couldn’t have turned out better.
I’ve learned much in my life through all these experiences. The greatest lesson is that in order to know happiness, you have to know sorrow and pain. That’s why Nephi’s testimony means a lot to me. If you always put God first, work hard, and hold up your end, you’ll be led through those difficult times.
It’s sure worked for me.

“What did you learn in Primary today, Sasha?” Mom asked as they drove home from church.
“Sister Duffy taught us about special gifts called talents,” Sasha said. “She said Heavenly Father gave us all talents so we can help others. She said when we share our talents, it makes people happy.”
“That’s right,” Mom said. “Jesus taught that we should use our talents to serve others.”
Sasha sat quietly for a moment, staring out the window. “But, Mom, what about Lauren?” she asked.
“What about her?” Mom asked.
“Well, she can’t talk, and she’s in a wheelchair. What kinds of talents does she have that can help others?”
“What is the first thing you notice about Lauren when you see her?” Mom asked.
Sasha thought for a minute and then said, “Her smile. Lauren is always smiling.”
“That’s right,” Mom said. “What else?”
“She’s always laughing. Especially when we sing or she hears the piano. She always gets so excited. And she loves to blow kisses to people.”
“How do you feel when you are with Lauren?” Mom asked.
“Happy. I always feel happy when I’m around Lauren,” Sasha said.
“Me too,” Mom said. “That is one of Lauren’s talents. She shares love and happiness with everyone around her. That is one of the most special talents of all.”

One of the things he had done to help pay his way through university was tutor younger students. Among them was Maria Victoria Chiapparino, who came under his tutelage as a fourteen-year-old. Elder Abrea’s mother was instrumental in teaching Maria the gospel, and Angel, as an eighteen-year-old priest, baptized her.

But that was not the end of the story. He was attracted by her beauty and maturity. Their acquaintance blossomed into romance, and they were married in 1957. Elder Abrea was then twenty-three, and his bride was eighteen. (Their marriage was solemnized in the Salt Lake Temple in 1966.)

“She has been a tremendous help,” Elder Abrea says of his wife. “More than that, she has been an inspiration.”

Chen, Yang Su-yuan has been blind since 1981, when she developed complications after cataract surgery. But losing her eyesight helped her find the gospel and ultimately helped her see the importance of temple and family history work.
Having recently gone blind, Sister Chen didn’t realize that the two young ladies at her door asking for a glass of water were missionaries. Inviting them in made all the difference in her life.
“Most people considered me useless because I was blind,” Sister Chen says. “But that’s not what God wanted to tell me. He sent me missionaries after I lost my sight to teach me that we are all the children of God and that He ransomed us at a great price. I learned my worth because of the ransom Jesus paid. I am priceless.”
Since then, Sister Chen has served in many callings in the Chung Li First Ward, Tao Yuan Taiwan Stake, as well as serving in the temple since 1992.

Members of the Young Women and Primary General Presidencies of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints met and visited with members in six countries of the Caribbean in May during an official ten-day visit. They were welcomed by Elder Jose L. Alonso of the Seventy, second counselor in the Caribbean Area Presidency, and Elder Hubermann Bien-Aimé, Area Seventy.
Sister Cristina B. Franco, Second Counselor in the Primary General Presidency, and Sister Becky Craven, Second Counselor in the Young Women General Presidency, arrived in Port-Au-Prince, Haiti, on Friday, May 18, 2018. Other countries visited on their tour were Guadeloupe, Barbados, Saint Vincent, Trinidad and Tobago, and Puerto Rico.
“I know that sometimes it is hard to defend our beliefs, to stand up for what we believe when everyone else is not doing the same in the world. But we must stand up for what we believe, even if we stand alone,” encouraged and invited Sister Franco to a group of young men and women during a devotional in Haiti.
Haiti is home to more than 23,000 members of the Church. It will be the second country in the area to have a temple, which is now under construction. Both sisters had an opportunity to visit the temple site.
“You are going to have a new temple, and I know that probably most of the youth have not had the opportunity to attend a temple yet. But that blessing is coming quickly, and you will have the opportunity to minister in the temple for your ancestors,” said Sister Craven to the youth in Port-Au-Prince.
After three days of meetings, trainings, and visits in Haiti, they traveled to Guadeloupe and Barbados where they held leadership trainings, a young single adult family home evening, and a visit to an early morning seminary class, comprised of 10 students in Abymes, Guadeloupe.
During one of the gatherings with the members, Sister Craven stated: “The distractions lead us away from our responsibility to minister to each other. So, we always have to be careful about the things that we get involved in. The things that we do can distract us and often the things that we forget to do can be a distraction from our spirituality.”
They arrived in Saint Vincent the morning of May 23rd for a leadership training meeting with Primary, Young Women, Relief Society and priesthood leaders of this small island, home to 683 members of the Church.
The next stop was in Trinidad and Tobago, where both sisters comforted families in their homes and also trained the leaders of that country.
Devrani Barrios, a Church member from Trinidad and Tobago, remarked: “It was good, I enjoyed it. Their sense of humor and their interactions with the kids was amazing. The prayer they left with my family is unforgettable.”
Taramatie Kotiah, another sister from Trinidad manifested: “I truly enjoyed the home visits. The sisters were very friendly with us all, as if we knew each other. They have such a welcoming spirit. They taught me what ministering truly is.”
The last destination of this international tour was Puerto Rico, where there are also more than 23,000 members. The interactions with the two general auxiliary leaders was a comforting time for members on the island.
“I liked very much that they set the example for us. They taught us how we have to start ministering now, because to minister is teaching the Savior’s way,” said Elizabeth Vasquez from Puerto Rico.
“To see that these leaders took their time to come here and give us these messages, brings me a lot of joy because it shows how much they love each of us, even though they don’t necessarily know our names,” said Erika Ruiz, a young woman from Puerto Rico.
This trip occurred after the last general conference, where President Russell M. Nelson announced a new emphasis on ministering, a personalized approach to caring for the temporal and spiritual needs of members. It focuses on flexibility in addressing the needs and circumstances of individuals throughout the world.
“Ministering is about love and being a friend and inviting others to participate and is about helping each other. But it also helps us as well become more like our Savior when we love as He does. And so it’s impacted the tour greatly because that’s what we’re talking about,” stated Sister Craven, concluding the visit in the Caribbean.

The story is told of a 14-year-old boy who had come to Nauvoo in search of his brother who lived near there. The young boy had arrived in winter with no money and no friends. When he inquired about his brother, the boy was taken to a large house that looked like a hotel. There he met a man who said, “Come in, son, we’ll take care of you.”
The boy accepted and was brought into the house, where he was fed, warmed, and given a bed to sleep in.
The next day it was bitter cold, but in spite of that, the boy prepared himself to walk the eight miles to where his brother was staying.
When the man of the house saw this, he told the young boy to stay for a while. He said there would be a team coming soon and that he could ride back with them.
When the boy protested, saying that he had no money, the man told him not to worry about that, that they would take care of him.
Later the boy learned that the man of the house was none other than Joseph Smith, the Mormon prophet. This boy remembered this act of charity for the rest of his life.2