Gospel Story Finder

I had the privilege to serve as the secretary of my deacons quorum. I recall the many assignments we members of that quorum had the opportunity to fill. Passing the sacred sacrament, collecting the monthly fast offerings, and looking after one another come readily to mind. The most frightening one, however, happened at the leadership session of our ward conference. The member of our stake presidency who was presiding called on a number of the ward officers to speak. They did so. Then, without the slightest warning, he stood and said, “We will now call on one of our younger ward officers, Thomas S. Monson, secretary of the deacons quorum, to give us an accounting of his service and to bear his testimony.” I don’t remember a single thing I said, but I have never forgotten the experience or the lesson that it taught me. It was the Apostle Peter who said, “Be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you.”

In just a few moments, we will listen to our beloved prophet, President Russell M. Nelson, a man of undaunted faith in Jesus Christ, a man of hope and peace, loved by God but not spared from the wounds of the soul.
In 1995 his daughter Emily, while expecting a child, was diagnosed with cancer. There were days of hope and happiness as her healthy baby was delivered. But the cancer returned, and their beloved Emily would pass from this life just two weeks after her 37th birthday, leaving her loving husband and five young children.
In general conference, shortly after her passing, President Nelson confided: “My tears of sorrow have flowed along with wishes that I could have done more for our daughter. … If I had the power of resurrection, I would have been tempted to bring [her] back. … [But] Jesus Christ holds those keys and will use them for Emily … and for all people in the Lord’s own time.”28

One Saturday a schoolteacher knocked on our door to talk to my father about my nephew. I found myself looking at a book he held, A Marvelous Work and a Wonder. Seeing my interest, he offered to leave the book. He also said I could attend a study group.
I spent almost the whole night scanning the book, stopping to take notes whenever I came across something new. Although I did not fully understand the doctrine, I felt no doubt about its truthfulness. I had a feeling of joy—as if I were discovering a genuine gem among thousands of imitations.
The next evening I joined five other people in a study group at the home of Mr. Kasongo. He had been doing research when he came across a book about American churches. “My heart pounded as I read the name of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” he said. After writing to the Church’s headquarters, he received some literature—including A Marvelous Work and a Wonder by Elder LeGrand Richards (1886–1983) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.
For two years, our group met twice a week. When missionaries, Elder Roger L. and Sister Simonne B. Dock, arrived in March 1987, 50 people were studying together.
The Docks began teaching the missionary discussions in French in the public school. Because some people spoke only Swahili, I interpreted. I heard the missionary discussions for the first time myself while interpreting.
On 9 May 1987 I was one of 80 people baptized in a pool at an abandoned copper mine. For me, baptism was an outer confirmation of an inner conversion that had taken place years earlier. I had been waiting for this sacred ordinance so I could officially become a member of the Church.
I have received so many blessings—among them the time I spent translating for couple missionaries. They are as dedicated as if the Master Himself were physically beside them.
I thank my Heavenly Father for these rich experiences and for the opportunity my wife, Jolie Mwenze, and I have to raise our son in the Church. And particularly I thank Him for sending me the gospel—a gem beyond price.

Illustrations by Jess Golden
Matthew climbed into bed. He pulled a fluffy blanket up to his chin. “Is Adam coming home from the hospital tomorrow?” he asked. Matthew hadn’t seen his younger brother since Adam broke his leg and went to the hospital to get a special cast.
“Yes!” Mom said. She tucked the blanket around Matthew. “He’ll need our help. He won’t be able to move around too much because of his cast.”
“How big is it?” asked Matthew.
“It goes all the way around his waist. And it covers all of his broken leg and half of his other leg.”
“Whoa,” Matthew said. “That sounds bad.”
“It will be pretty hard for him.” Mom turned off the light. “But if we look for small and simple ways to serve him, we can help him be happy.”
Matthew was tired, but he couldn’t go to sleep. He kept thinking about all the things Adam couldn’t do in his cast. He won’t be able to play tag or hide-and-seek. Someone will have to carry him to his bed and the couch. He finally fell asleep thinking of ways he could try to help.
After school the next day, Matthew ran home from the bus stop. “Welcome home, little buddy!” Matthew yelled as he ran inside.
Adam was sitting on the couch in the family room. Matthew gave him a big hug. Adam’s cast was bright green, and it rubbed against Matthew’s arms. It was hard and scratchy.
Matthew felt sad for his brother. The cast was so big!
“So … do you want to play with me?” Matthew asked.
Adam frowned and looked down at his cast. “I can’t.”
“Sure you can! I’ll be right back.” Matthew gathered up Adam’s favorite games and toys and took them to the family room. He sat on the couch next to Adam. “We can play cars or a board game. Then maybe Dad can get your wheelchair and we can all go for a walk before dinner.”
“OK!” Adam smiled wide. “And we can play with this!” He pulled a brown teddy bear from underneath his blanket. “His name is Ruff. I got him at the hospital.”
“Awesome!” Matthew grabbed a bucket of cars. Together they turned the couch into a racetrack with giant pillow mountains and a bear cave for Ruff. They had lots of fun!
Matthew did lots of little things to help his brother. When the cast was making Adam uncomfortable, Matthew helped him move around. When Adam asked for a snack, he brought graham crackers and milk to share. They were playing a board game when Mom walked in the room.
“It looks like you’re having fun,” she said.
“Yeah!” Adam smiled. “This is the best game day ever!”
Mom hugged Matthew. “Thanks,” she whispered.
“I thought about what you said last night, about the small and simple things,” Matthew said. Then he laughed. “But there’s just one problem.”
“What’s that?” asked Mom.
“My little buddy has turned into a turtle!”
They all looked at Adam’s big green cast. Adam laughed. “I am a big green turtle!” he said.
Mom hugged Adam. “You’re the cutest turtle I’ve ever seen.”

My teachers were heaven-sent. May I mention but a few: our former stake president, Harold B. Lee; President Marion G. Romney; and President J. Reuben Clark.
Brother Romney was a frequent visitor to our stake and region. One evening he taught us the principle of faith by retelling the inspiring account of Elijah and the widow at Zarephath (see 1 Kgs. 17:8–16). He liken her circumstances to those of some widows in our area. As he taught welfare precepts from the handbook and responded to questions, one brother asked him, “Brother Romney, why do you seem to know whatever’s in that handbook?” to which Brother Romney, with that twinkle in his eye and smile upon his lips, responded, “I wrote it!”

After high school, Doug was not deluged with scholarship offers. By college standards, he was still a very average runner. He did finally receive an offer from a junior college near his home, however. At the end of the first year there he surprised everyone, including himself, by running a 4:10.7 and winning the mile at the Northern California Championships. At this point, Doug decided to go to BYU. He didn’t have a scholarship or even an invitation, but he went anyway. When you’ve spent a whole year in the fifth quarter, you’re game for about anything. That fall he went out for cross-country and finished as the eighth man on the team.

The French have a phrase for it—au courant. It means to be aware of what’s happening, to know what’s going on. And 17-year-old Nathalie Perez had a plan to help the youth in the branch of Tours stay au courant.
“There aren’t that many LDS youth here,” Nathalie explains. “Sometimes we start to feel like we’re losing touch with each other.” So she decided to start a branch newspaper—just for the youth.
Soon the paper, published every other month, had its first edition, then the second, then the third. Now it’s in its second year of publication. The Journal des Jeunes (newspaper of the youth) is a hodgepodge of scriptures, inspirational thoughts, and news about the branch. There’s an ongoing series of biographies of presidents of the Church (Joseph Smith, Brigham Young, and John Taylor have already been featured), and there’s usually a note from one of the youth leaders.
But there are also recipes, jokes, tips on how to sew on a button or make perfect mayonnaise, crossword puzzles, descriptions of world geography, poems, and cultural notes about famous painters and musicians. Ingrid Garnier, 17, writes feature articles, riddles, and public opinion surveys. Pascal Brossard, 16, prepares a regular column on bird-watching. And Wilfried Garnier, 14, is the staff cartoonist.
The newsletter may not seem like much at first glance. It’s just a few sheets of photocopied paper with typed messages and hand-drawn illustrations. But to those in the know, it represents a heartbeat for the young people, a way of keeping in touch with the less active, a unifying force that the youth initiated themselves.
“The important thing is that the Journal gives us all a sense of belonging,” Nathalie explains. “Everyone has something they can contribute.”

As we look heavenward for understanding and help, we can find comfort in knowing that a loving Father will not leave us alone in our hour of need (see D&C 24:8). Elder Robert D. Hales of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, speaking in October 1998 general conference, reported on his experience and thoughts following his third heart attack, which required bypass surgery. During the time he was lying in a hospital bed and later convalescing at home, he pondered the meaning of life and the eternities. As he endured physical pain, he also thought of the deeper pain and anguish of the soul. He came to realize how important many types of caregivers are to the healing process: doctors, nurses, therapists, a loving spouse, parents, children, and friends. “The Lord is the ultimate caregiver,” he reflected. “We must surrender ourselves to the Lord. In doing so, we give up whatever is causing our pain and turn everything over to Him” (“Healing Soul and Body,” Liahona, January 1999, 19).

It was an incredible morning. The sun was an orange ball, crawling over the horizon behind a row of larch trees. As the warmth of the sun melted the ground fog that came off the river, girls from the Wilmette Illinois Stake gathered for the morning flag ceremony and a few minutes of vigorous calisthenics.

“How was your first night at camp?” It was a common enough question to ask a group of Chicago girls—girls used to the sound of big city traffic at all hours of the day and night. “We couldn’t sleep,” they answered. “The birds were too loud.”

Soon it was time for breakfast. But first everyone had to learn the assigned knot. “Where’s my rope? What knot are we supposed to learn?” This was a common conversation before every meal. On the first day of camp, each girl was given a length of rope and told she had to learn a new knot before every meal. All week long, girls simply wore their “meal tickets” around their necks and helped each other learn the knots that would gain them admittance to the mess hall.
The Wilmette Illinois Stake is a diverse stake with girls from downtown Chicago to girls living in rural areas near the Wisconsin border to girls from two Spanish-speaking wards. Yet they come together at camp to learn from and about each other.
Veronica Cousino, from Chicago Second Ward, is back for her second year at camp. She worked hard last year to pass her certifications. This year she was asked to come to camp as a counselor in one of the Inspirator tents. She loved learning how to cook outdoors. “The hardest part was speaking English all the time. It was a great experience for me. I loved it. That was the reason I wanted to come back this year. And,” Veronica added with surprise, “they wanted me to come as a counselor.”
The girls are allowed to choose one friend to stay with. Then they are assigned by skill levels to tents. Each tent has a leader.
Before coming to camp, the girls and leaders attended certification camps. They were able to go on their certification hikes right from the door of their stake center in downtown Chicago. The stake center is within a mile or so of a forest preserve. The preserve is a large section of wooded area set aside for recreation. The hike to and through the forest preserve was a good test of the girls’ endurance. Indeed, hiking is a good sport for the city dwellers because the forest preserves are set aside with trails for that purpose. They were also able to build fires and perfect some of their cooking skills. One stake member is certified to teach CPR (cardio-pulmonary resuscitation) classes, and most of the girls in the stake were able to pass that course as part of their first aid.
Since camp was located near a wide river suitable for canoeing, the girls worked on canoe safety in anticipation of making a canoe trip. A canoe was placed in the swimming pool, and each girl had the chance to learn to get into a canoe after falling out and how to empty a swamped canoe. Friends lined the sides of the pool excitedly waiting their turns and cheering as each one made it successfully back into the canoe.
The Wilmette Stake camp leaders added a new twist to the usual cooking assignments. Each cabin of girls had to cook a certain number of meals in their own area. Instead of simply being given the ingredients, the leaders had made a large chart with a list of foods and individual prices per serving: egg $.07, orange $.20, biscuit mix $.15, hamburger (1/4 lb.) $.40, etc. The girls were told they had to plan a menu for their cabin that cost $1.75 per girl. They placed their orders with their leaders, who took the opportunity to talk about nutrition, budget, and meal planning. The leaders were able to do this type of impromptu meal planning because they were close to a town and were able to go for supplies and be back before the evening or morning meal.
As in most girls’ camps, no radios or stereos were allowed. Evelyn Amundsen, with a smile that could light up a room, liked it that way. “I like to get away from the radio and listen to natural music.”
Since the Wilmette Stake takes in such a large area, many girls in the stake don’t get to see each other very often. Jennifer Wilding lives in the northernmost area of the stake. “Camp is a chance to make friends from the other wards,” said Jennifer, “and since my family goes camping a lot, I want to be certified.”
A positive, confidence-building experience for most, girls’ camp often provides an environment, away from the demands and distractions of town, where young women can be influenced by the loving concern of their leaders and of their Father in Heaven. As Lorraine Ward of Dallas said, “Everyone comes with her bag packed with problems and blessings. We help each other out.” Girls leave camp with a duffle bag full of dirty clothes but with something more valuable—a love for each other, a love for the beauties of nature, and a growing love of the gospel.

Zulma sat on one of the church benches and smoothed the skirt of her school uniform. Colored light shone through the stained-glass windows, and a cross stood at the front of the chapel. Zulma went to a church school, so she went to worship services twice a day with the other students. Zulma liked her church. She loved Jesus and loved to learn about Him.
She sat quietly as the priest began to talk. But today something felt different. Suddenly a new thought came into her mind and heart: There is more truth out there.
Zulma scrunched her eyebrows. More truth? What did that mean?
The thought came again. There is more truth.
Zulma closed her eyes and focused on what she was feeling. She had learned lots of good things at church. But now she wondered if something was missing. Maybe there was more that God wanted her to know. But how could she find it?
Later she talked to her older brother, Alberto, about her thoughts.
“You think there’s more truth out there?” Alberto asked.
Zulma nodded. “I want to learn about other churches,” she said.
“OK,” Alberto replied. “I’ll go with you!”
For several years, Zulma and Alberto visited different churches. After one church service, Alberto said, “That church taught good things.”
Zulma agreed, but they still felt like something was missing, so they kept searching.
One day Alberto raced up the steps to their house. “I found the church we’re looking for!” Alberto said. He gave Zulma a big hug.
Zulma’s eyes got wide. “Where? How?”
“My friend met some missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” Alberto said. “I listened to them, and I believe what they taught!”
Zulma and Alberto were so happy that they danced all around the house. But then Zulma got some bad news. Mamá didn’t want her to meet with the missionaries. “You’re only 12,” Mamá said. “You’re too young.”
Since Alberto was older, he was allowed to keep meeting with the missionaries. A few weeks later, he was baptized.
Zulma kept asking Mamá again and again if she could learn from the missionaries. Finally, Mamá said yes.
When the missionaries taught Zulma, she felt warm in her heart. One of the missionaries had a hard time speaking Spanish, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was how good Zulma felt. When she learned about Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon, she knew she had found the truth she was looking for!
Zulma wanted to be baptized. But what would Mamá say? Zulma was so happy when Mamá said yes!
On the day of her baptism, Zulma dressed all in white. She knew God loved her. She knew He knew her. And she knew that He had helped her find His restored Church!
Here is Zulma as a young girl in Uruguay. On the right is a photo of her today with her husband, Elder Walter F. González of the Seventy.

Lloyd, who is now studying law at Northern Illinois University in De Kalb, was not surprised by his father’s call as a General Authority. “All through his life he’s been very close to the Spirit.” One night Lloyd had asked to use the car to go to a party. He was getting ready to back out of the driveway when his father came out and asked him not to go, explaining that he felt impressed that it would not be wise. They learned later that another car had rolled off the road Lloyd would have taken, and felt the impression must have been a warning.

The dream was so real it awakened me. Trying not to disturb my sleeping missionary companion, I slipped from my futon (Japanese style bed roll) and groped through the predawn shadows for my journal—I wanted to record the dream before it was reduced to hazy impressions.
“You have been swept clean by strong winds,” said the man in the dream, as he studied my face intently. Then he smiled and stepped off the platform where I had stood, trembling. Who was he? Where had I been standing and why? What did the words mean, exactly? His brief, poetic assurance was branded on my heart as if by fire.
My mission in Japan was nearly over. I would be leaving the Tokyo South Mission in a matter of days and, like most missionaries nearing the end, I had been reviewing my accomplishments of the past year and a half with a critical eye. Had I done everything I could to be a successful missionary? Well, a good part of the time I had. Yes, I had tried: I had really worked hard, despite my imperfections. The last month or two had been particularly challenging, though. The heat had been terrible, and my companion had been the target of an exhausting virus. I had become disheartened and felt the need to evaluate my efforts in a more positive way, acknowledging the good I had accomplished on my mission with its attendant personal growth.
Street contacting in the bitter February chill, for example, had resulted in the baptism of Shizuoka Ward’s newest Young Adult representative. Abiding by our mission president’s “total dedication” plan, we had been blessed with the opportunity to meet and teach other spiritually strong members-to-be. Learning to live harmoniously with a variety of different personalities had taught me greater patience and love. Bearing frequent testimony to people thirsting for the truth had brought me closer to our Heavenly Father. And in experiencing a time when we had no baptisms, I had developed a greater dependence on him. Indeed, I had had a part in changing lives for the better, including my own.
The words rang again in my ears, “Swept clean by strong winds.” Yes, I was sure that the Spirit had communicated something important to me.
The comfort I received from the dream carried me through the remaining days of my mission with vigor and grace. Familiar sights, sounds, and smells planted themselves firmly in my memory. Seaweed-covered riceballs never tasted better; the crowded, rattling trains were actually fun to ride; and, of course, the smiles and handshakes from my Japanese friends were sweeter than ever.
Sadly, though, it appeared that I had had my last glimpse of Mount Fuji weeks earlier, before the summer haze settled in, obliterating my view. Only a few miles from the mountain for half of my mission, I had come to delight in her beauty and strength and, in fact, had penned these lines in her honor.
Lofty summit
Pristine mountain
Rising noble in the midst
of mediocrity—
Morning monarch
Evening guardian
Symbol of my own sky-reaching
possibility.
Grateful that I had been permitted to enjoy the inspiration of Fuji for so much of my mission, I determined to waste no time regretting that I would not see her again.
My renewed efforts and prayers of faith were rewarded by my Father in Heaven. New members, thrilled with the blessings of the gospel, brought their friends to us to learn how they, too, could find such joy. Contacts who had received the introductory lessons months earlier called, requesting that they be able to hear the remaining discussions. The proprietor of a noodle shop asked for help designing an advertising campaign to attract English-speaking foreigners and enthusiastically accepted the Joseph Smith story in the process. During the last week of my mission, six people were baptized. Packing my suitcases, I realized that the frustration and heartache of earlier weeks had evaporated, giving way to a feeling of profound peace and satisfaction.
The morning departure was a blur of bags and farewells. Too rushed for the typical mugi mikan (whole-wheat cereal tangerine) breakfast, we ran from the apartment to the van which would take us to the train station. Once outside, I felt a peculiar exhilaration, quite distinct from the natural anticipation of seeing home and loved ones. The breeze! Yes, it was the breeze we had missed for so long in the sultry summer heat. Brilliant sky replaced the dense gray mist which had enshrouded the area since the previous May. Wind-whipped waves pounded the coast with a vigor that replaced the stagnant air with a fresh sea mist.
My companion and I were exultant. Then, instinctively, I lifted my eyes—and there she was in all her splendor. Not a single cloud floated between Fuji and me to obstruct her clear, straight, imposing form. As my suitcases were being loaded onto the van, I stood alone for a moment, gazing upon one of God’s most magnificent creations, from which I had received the inspiration to “fight the good fight.”
Interrupting my reverie, a young native sister ran toward me, eyes wide with disbelief and pleasure. “Shimai, shimai” (Sister, sister) she cried, as she grasped my arm and gestured animatedly toward the mountain.
“Fuji-san!” She continued breathlessly, “You can see Mount Fuji so well today, shimai! Because the air has been swept clean by strong winds.”

I’ve shared with you previously an example of this philosophy. I believe it bears repeating. Many years ago, Arthur Gordon wrote in a national magazine, and I quote:
“When I was around thirteen and my brother ten, Father had promised to take us to the circus. But at lunchtime there was a phone call; some urgent business required his attention downtown. We braced ourselves for disappointment. Then we heard him say [into the phone], ‘No, I won’t be down. It’ll have to wait.’
“When he came back to the table, Mother smiled. ‘The circus keeps coming back, you know,’ [she said.]
“‘I know,’ said Father. ‘But childhood doesn’t.’”

I sat in this tabernacle some years ago as President Joseph Fielding Smith stood at this pulpit. It was the general priesthood meeting, the last general conference before President Smith passed away. He said: “There is one thing which we should have exceedingly clear in our minds. Neither the President of the Church, nor the First Presidency, nor the united voice of the First Presidency and the Twelve will ever lead the Saints astray or send forth counsel to the world that is contrary to the mind and will of the Lord.”
There came to me that evening a witness of the Spirit that he spoke the truth. I felt an overwhelming sense of peace and assurance that the Lord loved us and would not leave us without direction.

After the First Presidency’s announcement that the groundbreaking for the Neiafu Tonga Temple would be held on September 11, 2021, everyone who had a part to play went to work immediately under the wise guidance of our leaders from the Pacific Area and Church headquarters. It was not smooth sailing, but we witnessed the hand of the Almighty God guide us. From working on the building permit, to negotiating the environment internal assessment fees required by law, to the final preparation of the site, and to the actual temple groundbreaking ceremony, there were challenges.
An excerpt from a report prepared by Brother Tukia and Sister Linda Havea, the temple groundbreaking organizing committee coordinators, best explains this faith-promoting and miraculous sacred event.
On the night of September 10, 2021, the members were trying to complete the preparation of the temple groundbreaking site. It was raining nonstop. Even into the wee hours of the morning, it continued. However, the Saints awoke as this was the day that their forefathers had envisioned, prayed, and sacrificed for. They hurriedly flocked to Saineha, synonymous with the sun, a source of energy and spiritual healing. This was the site of the new temple.
What a great calming feeling. It was so serene that many wept silently in humility and gratitude. The Saints were seated to the right of the royal shelter. All members, choir and church leaders in the program were exposed to the elements with no shelter. The sound of the Tabernacle Choir certainly settled all despite the menacing and cumulonimbus clouds looming above. The program proceeded as planned without rain, for the clouds had receded. The wondrous moments occurred as Elder Kupu began the dedicatory prayer for the groundbreaking; the sun shone through, bathing the site with its brilliance, enhancing the Spirit that was abundant and prevailing. All wept for joy in admiration for the Omnipotent who had wondrously and gloriously revealed to ALL present that this groundbreaking was indeed, a heaven-sent undertaking!
Glory be to the Almighty, who is a “God of miracles.”5 I testify that if we allow Him, who is without beginning of days and end of years to prevail in our lives, we will continue to witness the workmanship of His hands,6 just as I have witnessed for myself His miraculous power and intervention during the sacred groundbreaking of the Neiafu Tonga Temple.

A mother of four knelt with her family around their kitchen table and prayed for help in paying their assessment. That evening she received a phone call from a neighbor lady, asking if she would tend her small children on a regular basis. Some six weeks earlier the sister’s offer to tend these same children had been refused because her fee was too high. The neighbor explained that she had been strongly impressed that afternoon that this sister would provide the most loving care of any person she had considered, and this was worth whatever fee the member wanted to charge.

In the spring of 1945, I was on Okinawa as a frightened, barely adequate infantry replacement, concerned with victory to be sure, but very much concerned with selfish survival. Japanese artillery pieces had tried for several days without success to hit the little plateau our mortar squad was on. Then one evening they dropped three shells on us; they had finally found the range and we knew it, and they surely knew it. Since one of those shells fell just several feet from my foxhole, I was stimulated to intense prayer, full of promises. Strangely, no more shells fell near us that evening—at the very time when more shells should have been fired for effect. The Lord that night blessed me and others. But suppose He also told me to be of good cheer, for not only would I live, but one day (just a few ridges away) I would preach the gospel to an LDS chapel full of members! Could I have managed that perspective? Probably not. Yet that is what happened in 1973, 28 years later, as I was privileged to go back to that—for me—sacred spot. Sugar cane has since covered the little plateau but not my poignant memories of Okinawa, that bloodiest battle in the Pacific.

Sister Vida Osei of Ghana wanted to learn to read and write English. She had tried community programs a number of times but had become discouraged and quit within weeks. Then one Sunday while attending meetings at the Second Branch, she learned that the Asamankese District was sponsoring an English literacy program. She decided to take a chance and enroll.
She soon found that this program was different. She would be able to attend with friends from church. Scriptures are used as study materials, so she would learn English and the gospel at the same time.
Two months after starting the class, Vida gave her first prayer in a class—ever. Three months after starting, she gave her first-ever talk in sacrament meeting, partially in Twi, a local African language, and partially in English. Four months after beginning, she began writing in a tattered notebook the orders, costs, and prices for her work as a self-employed seamstress. She made fewer mistakes with customers, got lower prices from vendors, and made more money than she had before in any previous month.
“I was too shy to attend a literacy class with just anyone,” she said. “But when the literacy class was held at the meetinghouse with members I knew, it gave me the courage to try again. And now I can read the scriptures and improve my business by reading and writing English.”

The LeGault family makes it a practice to try to live close to the Spirit. Brother LeGault helps set the pace. Shortly after he prayed for help in finding someone to share the gospel with, he was prompted to turn off the main highway to stop at a gas station, even though he didn’t need gas. A young man riding a motorcycle had stopped there because he was tired of traveling, and Brother LeGault offered to put the motorcycle in his van and give the young man a lift to Montreal.

The young man was impressed by the kindness he received and wanted to know more about the LeGault family and what made them so loving. He took the missionary lessons. The LeGault family prayed that the young man would gain a testimony. A few weeks later, he was baptized into the Church.

“When something like that happens, we make it a family activity,” says Chantal. “We all prayed for the young man to listen to the truth. We work together to share the gospel.”

“We try to say to our Heavenly Father, ‘I’ll do what you want. Make me what you want,’” says Nathalie. “When we let him do that, he does wonderful things.”

After a young mother was diagnosed with cancer, she felt alone and filled with fear. But as the news of her illness spread throughout her ward, she was soon surrounded by the love and concern of her fellow sisters. As her difficult treatments began, sisters drove her to her appointments and sat with her during long chemotherapy sessions. They prayed with her, encouraged her, brought her the few treats she could eat, and brought meals to her family week after week. Other sisters took time away from their own busy lives to clean her house. One sister knew certain treatments would make it hard to fall asleep, so she planned late-night visits to watch comedy movies. Instead of tossing in bed, the young mother was able to turn away from fears for a while and feel the healing power of laughter and friendship. Through these ministrations, priesthood blessings, and ward fasts, she was carried through an extremely difficult time, and strong bonds of love grew between all who were involved.