Gospel Story Finder

After they interviewed and baptised six people at the first branch, Elder Toa and Elder Nalin headed to Saetsiwi, an isolated area tucked high in the mountains. They had no way to contact the Saetsiwi Branch president but knew he was expecting them at some point, so the missionaries drove their truck as far as they could then continue on foot for the remaining 3-hour trek. When they finally arrived, the branch president was nowhere to be found. The elders had hiked all that way in vain.
Then the big rain fell. Everyone in Saetsiwi knows that when it starts to rain hard, getting off the mountain is treacherous. Elder Toa and Elder Nalin rushed back to their truck, knowing every second counted before the local rivers swelled and became impassable. They made it to the truck in time to drive through the first and second rivers, but they knew the third river would be a challenge.
Sure enough, their truck got stuck partway. They tried to push it—no luck. They called the district president, and soon help arrived, but the truck still wouldn’t move. The river rose and flowed so swiftly that the helpers had to get out and move to safety. Then, Elder Nalin spotted something else that worried him. He saw that the waters in next river over—which converged with this river—had become torrential and threatened to break through.
In his mind, it seemed to Elder Nalin that an invisible force was holding that third river back, as though buying time for them—but he knew it wouldn’t be for long. The torrent was racing.
Elder Toa and Elder Nalin are examples of the finest possible young men from Vanuatu—responsible and excellent in every way. To them, a truck is of almost incomprehensible expense, especially in a country where families can barely afford to educate their children, much less buy a vehicle. The elders were determined to preserve the Church’s truck at all costs, but now the water was up to its door handles. They called their mission president and asked, “What should we do?”
President Messick’s response was: “Thank you for calling. Now get out of the truck and save yourselves. I don’t care about the truck; I care about you.”
As they rushed out of the truck, Elder Toa climbed into the back seat to grab their scriptures and the 114 interview papers they needed for the baptisms. He couldn’t see them anywhere. Then a voice yelled, “The water is coming! Get out of the truck!” and Elder Toa slipped out of the back door just as the truck was swept downstream.
As soon as the elders realised that their scriptures and the 114 interview papers were still in the truck—which was now well out of sight—they used the power of the priesthood and commanded the truck to protect their precious documents. “That’s what you can do with the priesthood,” the young men said later, with absolute confidence. “You can command.”
Elder Toa and Elder Nalin managed to pull themselves out to safety, and there by the side of the river, they knelt and prayed. As they prayed that the truck would be safe and that their scriptures and interview papers would stay dry, the missionaries felt a peaceful assurance that all would be fine. Then they walked the rest of the way off the mountain.
The next day, the elders received a call from the district president. Saetsiwi’s branch president had found their truck, 250 meters downstream. When the Elders arrived to retrieve it, they discovered not a dent or a scratch on the body of the vehicle, despite its journey in the river, past trees, rocks, and debris.
The inside of the truck wasn’t so fortunate. It was drenched. The engine suffered electrical damage, and everything in the cab—pamphlets, manuals, books—was soaked beyond repair, except for the Elders’ scriptures and the 114 interview papers. These sat in plain sight above everything else, completely dry.
While the truck was being repaired, Elder Toa and Elder Nalin resumed their tour on foot. At their next stop, they interviewed and baptised 48 candidates before continuing right across Tanna Island. “When you get tired of walking,” one of them told a fellow missionary, “You walk with your heart.”
Their hearts and a priesthood miracle helped these faithful elders reach and bring all 114 candidates safely into the Church of Jesus Christ.

Representing The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Dr. Kalilimoku Hunt, American Samoa’s Church communication director, presented digital copies of family history records to Governor Lemanu Peleti Mauga on 5 April.
The governor received with gratitude the records on behalf of the people of American Samoa. He also thanked the Church for helping the territory in many ways?in emergency situations, service projects, and donations to institutions such as LBJ Medical Center, Fatu-o-aiga, ASDOE schools, and emergency preparedness.
Also at the meeting was Mr. James Himphill, an esteemed American Samoan archivist and territorial historian who described the significance of preserving these invaluable records.
“These records date from 1900–1974 and were copied to microfilm many years ago,” he said. “The films were damaged and could only be saved by digitization to a computer format. They could have been permanently lost were it not for this work by the Church.”
Michael Higgins, the area manager for the Church’s FamilySearch program in the Pacific, led the team that did the record digitization. “We see these digital images as being much more than data. We see them as a crucial part of American Samoa’s history and culture. For this reason, we are especially grateful for the opportunity to be of service in this way,” he said.

Emma K. came from Midvale, Utah, to interview Sister Cheryl C. Lant, Primary general president. Emma and Sister Lant talked about the purpose of Primary while they toured the Relief Society Building. The Relief Society Building is where the offices of the general presidencies of the Primary, Young Women, and Relief Society are. It has beautiful displays about the purpose and history of these organizations.
Emma: “What good things are the children of the Church doing?”
Sister Lant: “One of the best things they are doing is learning from their scriptures. Every Sunday, we see children bring their scriptures to Primary. They open them, they read them, and they’re learning directly from the words of the Lord about what He wants them to do.”
Emma: “What do you hope they can learn to do more often?”
Sister Lant: “We need to be more kind to our brothers and sisters, to our parents, to our friends, and to everybody around the world.”
Sister Lant had a question for Emma. She showed Emma a painting of Jesus with children. “Can you think why that’s my favorite thing to look at every day when I come into my office?”
Emma: “Maybe because it shows the love Jesus has for children.”
Sister Lant: “That’s right. In Primary, the most important thing that we want to teach the children is that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ love them. All the children in this picture come from different places, so they represent all the children around the world. Heavenly Father and Jesus love all of us, no matter where we live. We’re all His children.”

Things were getting more tense in Far West also. The state militia took over the city. In November 1838, many of the Church leaders were arrested and taken to prison. It was at this time that Joseph Smith and other brethren were taken to Liberty Jail, where they spent four difficult months. While they were there, the rest of the Saints got ready to leave Missouri and move to Illinois. As they prepared to leave their homes, Amanda Smith and many others were harassed by the mobs.
But the Lord was watching over them. One day Amanda had gone into a cornfield to pray. As she was leaving it, a voice spoke to her, a voice as plain as any she had ever heard. It repeated a verse from a hymn: “The soul that on Jesus hath leaned for repose / I will not, I cannot, desert to his foes; / That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake, / I’ll never, no never, no never forsake!” (Hymns, 1985, no. 85.)
From that moment Amanda had no more fears. Like the other Saints who remained faithful and obedient, she knew that the Lord would watch over her.

During summer break, I took a robotics engineering class at the high school near my home. I was one of the youngest ones in the class. On the first day our teachers put us into groups. In these groups we learned how to code robots. Coding allowed us to invent ways for robots to complete mazes. It was very hard to learn, and it took our group several days to do. Some days, people didn’t come to class, so it was just me and one other person working on our project.
On the last day, the teachers decided to do a fun game with the entire class. They gave each group 20 dried noodles and 10 marshmallows. They told us to make the tallest tower. My group only had two people that day, so a member from another group came over to help us.
Illustration by Macky Pamintuan
We worked on the tower for a long time and tried our best. The tower we made turned out a little too wide and not very tall. We felt like we could have done better. My teammates wanted to quit, but I said, “Let’s not give up.” We took all the noodle pieces from the side and placed them at the top. Little by little our tower grew!
Because we didn’t give up, we tied another group for first place. I learned that no matter how hard things get, we should never give up!

If you’ve ever felt lonely because Latter-day Saint youth are in the minority at your school, imagine how Santosh Ramish, age 14, of Hyderabad, India, must feel. After all, he’s one of a handful of Saints in a country whose population is 750 million.
Almost one out of every seven people in the world lives in India, the world’s second most populous country after China. Eighty-three percent are Hindu, 11 percent are Muslim, and the remaining 6 percent are divided between Christians, Sikhs, Buddhists and Jains, in that order.
But does Santosh feel alone or discriminated against?
Not at all. “There is freedom of religion,” he says. “Although my school friends do tease me for not drinking coffee. It is a land of many languages, cultures, and traditions.”
That probably sums up Santosh’s homeland. India features 14 major native languages and more than 1,000 minor ones. He speaks two of his country’s 14 major languages, and is fluent in English as well.
When it comes to culture, many teenagers around the world would find the world of Santosh very foreign. People do not date in India. Youth socialize only with members of the same sex. Parties and dances for youth are unheard of, and husbands or wives are usually selected by agreements between parents.
But what if you fall in love with someone else?
“In India, you can’t leave parents or disobey them,” says Santosh. Even after marriage, a young couple often lives with the parents of the groom. These days, however, more and more couples are getting out on their own.
There are some things that form a common bond between Santosh and other teenagers all over the world. One of those things is the gospel. Santosh was introduced to the gospel through his uncle, Dr. Edwin Dharma Raju, who joined the Church in Samoa when he was on assignment from the government of India.
When Dr. Raju returned to India, he wanted his family to hear the gospel message, and he wrote to Church headquarters for missionaries to be sent to his family. Instead, Dr. Raju and his wife were sent on a short-term mission to teach the family themselves.
Santosh was eight years old when he and several family members accepted the gospel. The water storage tank on the roof of his uncle Henry’s building was scrubbed and painted to serve as a baptismal font. The men and boys who attended the baptism were dressed in traditional white, loose-fitting Indian jackets and trousers. The women were dressed in white saris, the standard dress of Indian women, consisting of a long piece of cloth draped over the shoulder and wrapped around the body. The newly baptized family was to form the beginnings of the branch in Hyderabad.
Santosh is now a teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood in that branch. He and his brother Sanjay, 12, and sister Sunitha, 16, are the only youth there, but they take a very active part. Santosh arrives at the mission home, where church services are held, a half hour early each Sunday to prepare the sacrament. He is always ready to give a talk or teach a lesson to any age group. Sunitha is the branch chorister and teaches a Primary class, and Sanjay takes on various assignments and is often the first one to bear his testimony on fast Sunday.
Santosh is also preparing for a mission. “I have thought a lot about a mission,” he says. “I used to dream of going to a very remote island or a place where I could convert and baptize everyone. Now that they are calling Indian youth to serve in India, I would like to serve a mission here.”
His dreams also include medical school, which is extremely difficult to get into in his country. Of the 50,000 students who take examinations each year to apply, only 2,000 will be accepted. Only those with the highest grades can enter medical school.
Santosh, like many Indian children, has been going to school since he was three. He will graduate at 17. In the meantime, he carries a heavy academic load.
His day starts before 6 A.M., when he hurries off for an hour session with a tutor. Since his classes at the private Christian school contain anywhere from 40 to 70 students, the time he spends with his tutor and four or five other students is essential.
He then comes home, prepares for school, reads the newspaper to keep up with current affairs, and then takes the bus to school. Once there, he attends eight classes, among them mathematics, physics, biology, and three different language classes.
Santosh is in the 10th class, where it is crucial to be one of the best students. He has even had to give up most of the sports he likes so well, like cricket and badminton, in order to excel. He has to take major tests every month and exams every three months to determine his position in college.
After school, Santosh does homework and a little recreational reading until it’s time for the evening meal at 8:00 P.M. At 9:00 he meets with his tutor for another hour and a half.
Although school takes up a major portion of his day, he still finds time for the Church and for scripture study. “I have a very strong testimony,” he says. “I thank my Heavenly Father for it. I know that the Book of Mormon, the Holy Bible, the Doctrine and Covenants, and Pearl of Great Price are companion scriptures and the word of God.”
That knowledge, plus the support of his family, are enough to sustain him in his minority religious status. “I hope I will have the strength to resist temptations,” he says. “I love this church, and don’t ever want to go away from it.”

Then Malia held up the last picture. “Can I tell this part?” she asked.
“Of course,” Mom said.
The last picture showed a tiny baby girl wrapped in a fuzzy pink blanket. The baby’s eyes were closed, and she wore a tiny hat.
“We have wanted to welcome another child into our family for a long time,” Malia said. “Today we got a special phone call from the social worker. I’m going to have a sister!”
“That’s right, and we’ll see her tomorrow!” Mom said.
“It’s more exciting than Christmas Eve,” Malia said again, and she snuggled into her pillow.
“I know just how you feel,” Dad said.
Malia watched Dad put the pictures back in the box. Someday soon she would make a treasure box for her new sister too.

On Friday, Jimmy came home from school tired. He dumped his books on the floor and tossed his jacket onto the couch. But it seemed to him that the picture of Jesus was looking directly at his books on the floor. Jimmy knew that the picture couldn’t really see anything, but he remembered how he had felt before they recognized Brother Park. If Jesus were to come into his home, he wouldn’t want his books to be on the floor. So Jimmy put them away and hung his jacket in the closet. As he munched on an apple and relaxed, he was glad that his house looked neat and clean. He knew that his mom would be glad too.

I assumed that was all I’d be needed for in giving blessings before my mission, but the next day came the most unexpected phone call of my life. It was my mom, who had been trimming some old tree branches at my grandma’s house. She’d fallen, twisted her knee, and now could not get up because of the pain. Instantly I sprinted from my uncle’s house to go help. When I got there, I helped my mom up and we slowly walked inside my grandma’s home so that Mom could sit down.
Then came the request I will never forget: my mom asked me for a blessing. I, being only an 18-year-old teenager, but also being a newly ordained elder, could accept that call to serve for the second time that week. The blessing finished with everyone in tears and my mom feeling much better.

I have learned this truth through a personal experience that, though seemingly insignificant, left a lasting impression on me. At the age of 22, while serving in the French Air Force in Paris, I was thrilled to learn that Elder Neal A. Maxwell, an Apostle of the Lord, would be speaking at a conference on the Champs-Élysées. However, just before the event, I received orders to drive a senior officer to the airport at the exact time the conference was set to take place.
I was disappointed. But determined to attend, I dropped the officer off and rushed to the conference. After finding a parking spot, I sprinted down the Champs-Élysées to the meeting place and arrived breathless with only five minutes left before the meeting ended. Just as I entered, I heard Elder Maxwell say, “I will now give you an apostolic blessing.” In that instant, I had a beautiful, unforgettable spiritual experience. I was overcome by the Spirit, and the words of the blessing seemed to penetrate every fiber of my soul as though they were meant just for me.
What I experienced that day was a small yet powerful manifestation of a comforting aspect of God’s plan for His children: When circumstances beyond our control prevent us from fulfilling the righteous desires of our hearts, the Lord will compensate in ways that allow us to receive His promised blessings.

A young mother of two sons was busy with a part-time job at home and a demanding Church calling. “It seemed I had no time for my small children,” she recalled. She was often so involved in her work that her sons had to go to great lengths to get her attention—and she was often impatient with them.
So she decided to organize an “activity time” she could enjoy with her sons each morning. As she spent that time with them in prayer, singing, and fun activities, she gained a greater appreciation for each and began to really enjoy the time they spent together. She was amazed at what a little love and attention brought about!
This mother had discovered one of the “secrets” to making her home a sanctuary from the world and its cares. The early Saints were told to make the temple they were building “a house of prayer … a house of learning … a house of God” (see D&C 88:119). In the same way, we should make our homes havens of love where we and other family members can grow and learn to practice self-control and to serve, understand, and forgive each other.

It all started as an effort by the youth of the Grand Junction Colorado Stake to earn money to send to the Church refugee fund. Richard Lindsay, a talented singer, helped the youth organize a choir to produce and record a tape. The effort was a success, but the group didn’t stop there. The choir has continued to perform together and has increased in size to 18 performers.
The choir performs at stake functions and has expanded to include entertaining at community group gatherings. The choir is finding that its efforts are becoming an effective missionary tool.

It was a celebration so special that I traveled more than six thousand kilometers to return to my Samoan village of Faletele.
The village was bustling with activity. Crowding in with the few hundred villagers were more than a hundred of my relatives from many parts of Samoa and many honored guests from other villages.
I started walking through the village, heading toward the big, domed roofed fale [house] when I saw my beloved cousin Sama. Suddenly I was filled with pride and sorrow and love as I remembered when we first came to know Sama—Sama the Thumb.
I was just five years old. Sama was ten. His parents had gone to New Zealand for the dedication of the temple, and Sama had come to stay with us.
I was watching the young men and boys play ball. A bus stopped on the road, and one of my aunts got out, followed by a boy who we learned was our cousin Sama. When they went to the Tuita’ua’s fale, I followed them.
Tuita’ua Ioane was the senior member and head of our family. Hundred of relatives—brothers and sisters, husbands and wives, aunts and uncles. Grandchildren and cousins—honored and obeyed him. Tuita’ua is one of the great titles in Samoa, and the Tuita’ua is respected by all Samoans.
In the days that followed, we enjoyed getting to know Sama with his stories and jokes and his sense of humor. We soon accepted him not only as a cousin but also as a good friend. When Sama was with us, whether we were working or playing, we laughed and had fun.
On Sunday morning I couldn’t find Sama. All day I asked the people of the village if they had seen him, but nobody knew where he was.
Finally, in the late afternoon, long after our church services and our afternoon meal were over Sama came walking through the village in his white shirt and white lavalava [native skirt or kilt]. Tuita’ua Ioane called him into the fale. “Where have you been, Sama?” he asked.
“In Fuapa’epa’e.”
“You walked the twelve kilometers to Fuapa’epa’e? And back?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Why?”
“Because that is the closest village where I can attend my church.”
Tuita’ua Ioane took off his wire-rimmed reading glasses and laid them on the Bible, which he’d been reading. “Sama, the village rule is that there will be only one church in Faletele and that all the people in Faletele will attend that church. Do you understand? You are part of my family, Sama, but you are also a guest in this village and you are under my protection. You know our rule.” He leaned forward and looked Sama in the eyes. “You do what you have to do.”
The following week none of the cousins mentioned Sama’s trip to Fuapa’epa’e. They continued to joke and laugh together as they worked and played together.
Trouble started on the second Sunday. I woke up to the sounds of arguing. Two of my cousins, Malini and Tofo, were chasing after Sama, who was dressed in his white shirt and lavalava.
“Sama, you know what the village rule is!” Tofo shouted.
Malini grabbed Sama’s arm. “How can you show such disrespect to Tuita’ua Ioane?”
Sama stood boldly in front of them. “Tuita’ua told me to do what I have to do. And this is what I have to do!”
As he started walking away again, Malini shouted after him, “Sama, don’t embarrass our family like this!”
At the end of the day when Sama came walking back into Faletele, some of the villagers made fun of Sama, calling him bad names. Some of them mocked him calling “Mamona” [Mormon] as he walked by. All the cousins were angry at Sama and wouldn’t talk to him—all of them, that is, except me. I had Sama all to myself the entire week. It was wonderful as we talked and sang and he told me stories.
“Maybe tomorrow you will remove our family shame and come with us to the village church,” Malini told Sama on Saturday night.
But on Sunday morning Sama was gone again. Next to each of our sleeping mats was a gift that Sama had made.
When Sama returned that evening, I ran out to greet him. He was eager to see the others, too, until he saw that his gifts had been broken and thrown away.
“The villagers made our cousins angry,” I explained. “But I kept my gifts. I like them very much. Thank you.”
Sama smiled at me, then went off my himself until it was time for the evening meal.
When he returned the cousins shouted, “You are a disgrace to our family!
“Find someplace else to sleep. You’re no longer welcome in the boys’ fale.”
They pushed Sama down, and raised their fists to hit Sama. “Because of you, our friends are calling us bad names!”
I was afraid that the cousins were going to hurt Sama, so I ran to get Tuita’ua Ioane. But he had heard the fight and had already come to the door of his fale. “You boys, stop it now!” He commanded. “All of you, come in here!”
At the sound of his voice, the boys immediately stopped. They walked meekly into the fale and sat down.
“Look at my hand!” Tuita’ua Ioane held out his hand. “See how these fingers are bunched here together? And how the thumb is out here all by itself?”
We all looked at his hand.
“We have a saying here in Samoa: ‘The thumb stands alone, but it is the strongest of the fingers.’”
Tuita’ua Ioane pointed at each of the cousins. “You boys are the fingers. But Sama is the thumb!”
Even though I was very young, I learned many things that night. Tuita’ua Ioane taught us about being true to yourself and valiant in your beliefs. His words and Sama’s example changed my life.
After thinking back to those days, I continued walking up the steps of the big fale and removed my shoes, as was the custom. Sama saw me immediately. And we hugged each other. Everyone was there for just one reason—to honor the Tuita’ua. Tuita’ua Sama.
But to me he would always be Sama the Thumb.

A Relief Society president knows that, in spite of a report which shows members receiving temporary assistance constitute 4 percent of a ward, to the sister in distress it is 100 percent. Her needs are whole and real. Consider the case of a woman we shall call Sister Allen. Troubled and lonely, she had just returned from a hospital stay and major surgery. Two months before, her husband had abandoned his responsibilities to their family of five. The bishop had visited, and now the Relief Society president came. It was a family-needs visit, and as they talked Sister Allen spoke wistfully of having some cream of asparagus soup and blueberry muffins. These items were not on the bishop’s order form and could have been dismissed as not available. But the president really wanted to serve Sister Allen and wondered if this rather special request might suggest a need for more than food. What was Sister Allen’s real need? Was it for commodities or for consideration, for someone to demonstrate that she was worthwhile by giving her special attention now, when her problems seemed to overwhelm her?
Sensing the larger need, the Relief Society president ordered the items available through the storehouse, then assigned compassionate service responsibilities to her visiting teachers and others to provide meals that included the muffins and the soup and also to show their concern in other visible and tangible ways. Sister Allen responded. She got better, aided by the food but more so by their friendship.

After that experience, the temple was one of her favorite topics. “Chris, isn’t the temple a beautiful place? That’s where I’ll get married someday. I’ve promised myself that.”
“I guess I wouldn’t mind getting married there either,” I said. “It’s really no different than a cathedral.”
“It is different. When two people are married in the temple, they’re married forever.”
“That’s fine with me. I’ve always believed that true love lasts forever.”
Liz grew very serious. “You don’t understand. Only active members of the Church are allowed in the temple. You wouldn’t be allowed to enter.” She explained again that when her time came, she would be married in the temple. No other place was acceptable for her.
“But what if you really love a guy who’s not LDS?” I asked. “If you really love someone, it shouldn’t matter where you get married. All that matters is that you’re together and you’re in love.”
“If two people really love each other,” she answered shaking her head, “they’d never settle for anything less than an eternal relationship.” She paused and looked me in the eye. “I never would.”
As we neared the end of our senior year, we had many arguments about temple marriage. Liz maintained that she’d never marry outside of the temple. I argued that, in true love, the ceremony was not important. Love was eternal regardless of the type of marriage.
The more we discussed it, the more she talked about the temple and how special it was. I was confounded. It was obvious that we were falling in love, yet Liz wouldn’t budge on her temple marriage hang-up. I felt positive that if our love matured, she would eventually give in and agree to be married anywhere. I was wrong.
One afternoon at school, Liz met me at our locker. Her eyes were tearfully red, and her voice was taut with emotion. “Chris, I’ve decided that we can’t see each other anymore. We can’t go out again—ever.”
Her words stunned me. “What do you mean? Look, I don’t care what your parents think …”
She looked up at me with tears streaming down her face. “It’s not my parents. It’s me. I can’t allow myself to date you. I don’t want to fall in love with you.”
“Liz, you’re just upset. Why don’t we just talk this out like we’ve always done? You’ll feel better in a little while.”
She backed away from me. “No, I’ve made up my mind,” she sobbed. “I can’t afford to see you again!” She pressed a shiny black paperback into my hands and ran down the hall.
We stopped seeing each other. Liz started going out with LDS guys, and I moped around campus. I thought about the many discussions we’d had. What was it that made her so stubborn about a temple marriage? Why wouldn’t she compromise? What made her so special?
Several weeks after we broke up, I returned to school late one spring afternoon. I searched through the mess in my locker and soon found what I was looking for. The little black paperback was slightly dog-eared but still readable. Maybe it would answer some of my questions. I glanced around to make sure no one saw me carrying an LDS book, tucked it inside my jacket, and went home.
When I got home I hurried upstairs with my secret bundle and hid it in my desk drawer. I knew my parents wouldn’t approve of me reading Mormon “propaganda.”
Two weeks passed before I had a chance to be alone with the book. When I had the opportunity, I took the book out of my desk, stretched out on my bed, and started to read.
I opened the book, A Marvelous Work and a Wonder, and skimmed its pages. A section about the Joseph Smith story caught my eye, so I read it carefully. As I read the story of Joseph Smith’s vision, I knew that it was true. I also knew that if his story was true, then the church he founded must also be true.
A little later I agreed to take the missionary discussions, and I rapidly gained a testimony of the principles of the gospel. After the discussions, I knew that I should join the Church, and after much fasting, praying, and soul searching, I was baptized. Liz was there. She cried.
A little more than a year after I was baptized, Liz and I again visited the temple, this time to be married for time and all eternity. That was 13 years ago. Today, and every day, as I watch our family blossom and grow, I’m grateful for the strong testimony of that cute little Mormon girl. I’m thankful that she was courageous enough to refuse to compromise on an issue that meant eternal happiness for her, and eventually, for me too.

My parents both served missions in Mexico. I’ve wanted to go on a mission since I was about 15 years old, so I’ve been preparing to serve. My younger brother turns 18 when I turn 19, so we will turn in our mission papers at the same time. I’m saving money for my mission by working with my mom. I have a small jar that I put my money in, and I’m trying to fill it. I want to bring more people to Christ and His Church to bring good into their lives and mine.

One night five-year-old Jenna sat on the living room floor, combing her doll’s hair. Her dad sat in his chair, reading the newspaper. When Jenna looked up, she saw a picture in the newspaper of a girl about her own age. The girl had curly black hair, her face was smudged with dirt, and her clothes were torn. The girl looked very sad.
“Why does that girl in the newspaper look so sad, Daddy?” Jenna asked as she pointed at the picture.
“Well,” said Dad, “let’s read the story about her. She lives far away in a country where the people are fighting a war. Because of the fighting, she and her family had to leave their home and are looking for a new place to live. Many of the people there don’t have shoes or clean clothes or even enough food to eat.”
“That would make me sad, too,” said Jenna. She sat staring at the picture for a long time. Then she quietly went to her closet and pulled out her suitcase, opened it, and started to put things inside: a pair of shoes, a can of soup, a toothbrush and toothpaste, a storybook, and a pretty blue dress. Jenna carefully looked over her many dolls and chose one she thought that the girl in the picture might like. Then she wrapped the doll in a pink baby blanket and tucked it inside too.
After she closed and latched the suitcase, she pushed and pulled it until she reached her dad. As she stopped in front of him, he peeked over the edge of the newspaper. “Are you going someplace, Jenna?”
“No, Daddy,” she replied. “We need to send these things to the girl in the newspaper. I put in some food and shoes, a book, and even one of my dolls. Let’s send it tonight so the girl won’t be sad for even one more day!”
Dad put down the paper, picked Jenna up, and gave her a great big hug. Then he said, “Oh, Jenna, I’m proud of you for being so willing to help. But I don’t know where to send your suitcase of wonderful gifts. I don’t know this girl’s name, and she doesn’t have a home, so I don’t know how to find her.”
Now it was Jenna who was sad. She sat very still, thinking about what her dad had said.
Then Dad had an idea. “We could take your gifts to the homeless shelter. I’m sure some little girl right here in our town would appreciate them too. What do you think?”
Jenna thought about what her dad had told her. “OK, Daddy. But I still wish I could help the girl in the newspaper.”
Later that night, when Jenna was ready to go to bed, she picked up her doll and said, “I know something I can do for that sad girl tonight. I can pray for her.”
She knelt by her bed and prayed, “Father in Heaven, please bless the girl who is far away that she will have food and a new home and a new doll. But most of all, help her to know that she has a new friend far away and that I love her. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.”
Jenna climbed into bed and snuggled under her quilt. Being able to help someone made her feel warm inside, and praying for that someone made her feel happy.

One who escaped a brush with gang life is Ath Ket, 16, a Cambodian by birth. Ath recalls what his life was like before he encountered the Church: “It was pretty bad. I used to hang around gang members a lot.” And if he hadn’t met the elders that day four years ago as he walked along the Boston Common? “I’d probably be hanging around, fighting, stealing cars, drinking.”
But Ath did meet the Elders and did agree to hear the lessons. He had already been baptized into another church, but the missionaries’ message rang true. “I feel good about the Church. Now I know it’s true. I learn more about it every day.”

About a year after my husband and I were married, my youngest brother’s three daughters came to live with us. My husband’s youngest sister and a girlfriend of mine also asked if they could stay with us for a while, and since we didn’t have any children, we welcomed all of them. Suddenly we were no longer just a couple; we were a large family.
Prior to this time, my husband and I were not too serious about holding home evenings because it was just the two of us, but with the new additions to our family, we decided to implement the program earnestly in our home.
From our first family home evening together, our Mondays were never the same, nor will our lives be the same, because of those wonderful experiences. Our usually quiet home started to be filled with music. The children who couldn’t read started to learn and developed a love for it. Those who were shy and hesitant to accept assignments developed confidence and showed eagerness to contribute, even volunteering to do special presentations. There was excitement throughout the week as everyone talked about what we had done the previous Monday night and what we were going to do the next one. Excitement would build as Monday neared and as family members were busy making preparations for their “big surprises.”
The promise of an exciting home evening even became a motivation for all to do their assigned household chores. Each home evening brought insights and discoveries that enriched our lives.
My nieces have since returned to their father, my sister-in-law has moved out on her own, and my girlfriend now lives in a dorm close to the school she’s attending. We’re back to being just a couple again. But we are still having those fun-filled, meaningful home evenings. Sometimes we invite other families to join us, and other times we take pleasure in just getting to know each other better, working out our problems together, and expressing our appreciation for each other. Our themes and activities continue to be simple and focused on meeting our needs.

At one time the Lord said that He was “well pleased” with Joseph Wakefield. He was stalwart and faithful and taught hundreds about the prophetic work of Joseph Smith. But from 1833 to 1834 he was influenced by some dissidents in Kirtland. He was once in the home of Joseph Smith. Joseph came out of the room where he had been translating the word of God and immediately began to play with some children. “This convinced [Brother Wakefield] that [Joseph] was not a man of God and that [therefore] the work was false.” In due course Joseph Wakefield apostatized, was excommunicated, and became a persecutor of the Church and of the Saints.