Gospel Story Finder

His young life is full of memories. They begin on the island of Timor, several hundred miles north of Australia. His Chinese parents were working in the Portuguese colony there (Domingos is a Portuguese name) when it was invaded by Indonesia. The men fled to Portugal. Women and children escaped to Darwin. “My mother, myself, and some other relatives came on one of two boats that got away,” Domingos explains. “We were lucky to survive.”
Domingos’s father later joined them in Darwin. Thanks to hard work, the family prospered. Two more boys were born. Domingos learned English. He discovered sports—cricket, karate, tennis, soccer, handball, volleyball. He excelled in school, in music, and in art. He worked in his uncle’s restaurant.
One day his aunt, a newly baptized Latter-day Saint, introduced his family to the missionaries. Soon the Liaos joined the Church. “We were active for about a year,” Domingos says. “Then my parents stopped going. I kept on for a while; then I started to play cricket on Sundays. But my conscience kept nagging me that I should be in church.”
It was at this time that Domingos’s grandfather, who lived in Melbourne, suffered a stroke. He wasn’t expected to live. Domingos, 16, felt compelled to pray. “I told Heavenly Father if he would give Grandfather a chance, I would devote my life to the Church. But I didn’t just wait for him to recover. When we returned home, I returned to church. I’ve been taught that if you say something, you should do it.”
Grandpa did get better. And by the time he did, Domingos was going to church, not just to keep a promise, but because he truly believed it was the right thing to do.
By the time Domingos turned 18, his church activity began to irritate his father.
“Dad thought seminary was getting in the way of my schoolwork, so he banned me from getting up early to go. I wanted to honor him, so I quit going. But I still did seminary at home. Then he didn’t want that either, so I put that away.
“Then he’d find me reading my scriptures and think I hadn’t done my homework, even though my grades were good. One time he grabbed my scriptures and threw them in the rubbish bin. I had spent the last two years reading them and marking them, and they are really precious to me. The next morning I was able to get them back, but I had to give them to the branch president for safekeeping.”
It wasn’t long before Domingos’s father banned him from everything related to church activity—scripture study, Mutual activities, home teaching, and, finally, Sunday meetings.
“Even though I was 18 and legally my own person, my first reaction was to obey. Really. You want to obey your father because he is your father. But I knew I couldn’t break my promise to Heavenly Father by not attending church.
“Dad said if I went that Sunday, not to worry about coming back. So I packed my bags. My prayers were very sincere that night. The next morning, when he saw me dressed up, he was furious.”
Domingos left, but his parents came to the chapel and found him. They reached an agreement that he could attend every other Sunday. “I wasn’t happy with it, but it was better than nothing,” he says.
Then the next time he got ready for church, his father again told him if he went, never to return. “The second time was just as bad, probably worse. I’d been waiting to receive my patriarchal blessing, and the patriarch, who can only come about once a year, had come from far away. I got there for the appointment, but my father came at the same time. I had to go home and missed my blessing.”
The third time that his father confronted him in a similar way, Domingos left home and moved in with his grandmother. “Eventually my mum came and said my father was all right and he wouldn’t get angry again. So I came back.”
But in the meantime, he’d developed a desire to serve a full-time mission. “I prayed, and the answer was very certain that I should go when I turned 19. From then on my mind was made up—I just needed to prepare.”
If he would complete his first year of study, the University of the Northern Territory would agree to give him two years off to serve. But he’d have to carry an even harder class load for a few months before he left. “My coordinator actually encouraged me and said the mission would be a good experience,” Domingos says. He continued something he’d done since high school—telling fellow students about the steps of repentance and the plan of salvation.
He intensified his scripture study, memorizing many passages. “The scriptures brought me peace,” he says. “They reminded me of the things I should be doing.”
He joined the full-time missionaries when they gave discussions. He often bore his testimony. He kept a journal, writing in it every day. His Church leaders interviewed him, found him worthy, and sent in his missionary application.
Then one day, this time when he returned from church, his father kicked him out for the fourth time. “It was pretty final,” Domingos says. “He was not pleased with my plans for a mission and said if I went I wouldn’t be his son anymore.”
His branch president, Michael Kuhn, invited Domingos to live in his home until the mission call arrived.
Finished with his schoolwork, Domingos filled his days with prayer, with uplifting music, with Church activities, missionary work, and study of the scriptures. Sometimes he would read the scriptures all day long.
And then the letter came: “You are called to labor in the Hong Kong Mission.” Domingos returned home for a short time to try to make peace with his family before he left. “Mainly because they knew they could not change my mind, they yielded,” he says. Before he left, the family went out to dinner together and took lots of farewell photos.
Letters written from the Missionary Training Center and from the mission field reflect the joy that quickly followed:
—“At the airport I was able to meet one of the missionaries who taught me, Elder (Hoyt) Skabelund, and his wife and baby and parents. I am slowly learning Cantonese. The people in the MTC are wonderful.”
—“I’ve received two letters from my mother. Everything is going well at home. They are being blessed greatly and they know it! My family and relatives are now happy that I am serving a mission. Surely God is a God of miracles!”
—“I have done my first street display, talking to everyone who goes by. I have taught the six discussions in Cantonese.”
—“Now I have been transferred to Macau, a Portuguese colony neighbouring the coast of China. I am pretty lucky because not many missionaries get to serve here. We are teaching an investigator, and he will be baptized. I know that God called me here to do a special work.”
—“Every inconvenience was worth overcoming to read the Book of Mormon. Every insult was worth swallowing to keep the Sabbath holy. Every moment was worth waiting for to kneel in private prayer, every pain worth enduring to attend church. Every blow was worth taking, every torment worth suffering, every tear worth shedding to come on this mission.”
Today in Macau, Elder Liao looks out the window of his missionary apartment and sees a promised land.
“When I decided to go on a mission,” he says, “I knew there would be strong currents against me. I didn’t really know the dangers lurking in the water, what might try to sting me or to swallow me up. I was only thinking about making it. Now here I am, and I know that it’s worth it.”
And he’s eager to build a bridge to help others, including his family, to cross over to the other side.

After I finished high school I got a job that didn’t pay very much, and I was embarrassed to be paying so little tithing. One of my friends reminded me of Jesus praising the poor widow (see Luke 21:1–4). From that point on, those thoughts didn’t return to my mind. I continued to pay a full tithing. Later on I was blessed to get a better job and earn money for my mission.
Fabián Argote Montalvo,Las Granjas Ward, Neiva Colombia Stake

I grew up without a dad, so I always turned to Heavenly Father for support. I would kneel by my bed and just talk to him, sometimes even cry. I always felt that he was there—loving and caring for me—just like a real dad.
I suppose I had been searching for the truth for some time. I had visited many of my friends’ churches, but all of them described my Heavenly Father as a mean and spiteful God. I knew this could not be the same being I had been talking to all my life.
Then, one Saturday afternoon, two young men dressed in suits showed up at our house. Their accents were different from the Chicago sounds I was used to. They were from Gary, Indiana, the home of the largest Sunday School in the Midwest, they said. Every Sunday they brought up a big school bus to drive people to their service. And they promised anyone who rode in the bus would receive a free goldfish.
My younger sister Mary thought that was cool. She would go anywhere for a free goldfish. Mom agreed with a little hesitation. I think she had been searching for the truth too. I thought that giving away free goldfish sounded like a commercial more than a church, but I agreed.
The next morning the huge yellow school bus pulled up in front of our house, and we boarded. But about three blocks down the road, the bus driver drove into the back of a parked car. What a mess!
The police came and found out that the driver didn’t even have a license to drive the bus. They took him down to the station and left us stranded. After a few minutes of sitting in the bus, Mom decided that it wasn’t meant to be, and we walked home. Mary was upset because she didn’t get her goldfish.
About a week later, we heard a knock on the door. Mary answered it and again found two young men in suits standing at the door. They were from some church and had funny sounding accents too. Mary was still sore about the goldfish. “We’re Catholics, and we don’t want any,” she said, in her best imitation of Mom’s voice.
“We’d like to talk to your mom anyway,” they persisted.
Mom went out and sat on the front porch with them for quite a while. She came back with a blue book in her hand. “Did they have goldfish?” Mary asked.
“No, but I think they might have something better,” Mom replied.
A few weeks later, after Mom had finished reading the blue book she called the Book of Mormon, she let them come back and teach us. As I listened to their description of Heavenly Father—a warm, loving Father who cares for us and wants us to return to him—a comforting feeling came over me. I could feel tears flowing down my cheeks. Finally, I knew I could stop searching. I had found the truth, and there were no free goldfish attached.

I was raised in a family of 11, including my mom and dad. We were well disciplined and religious, but we often fell short of praying as a family.
When I was seven years old, my aunt took me into her home. There I was taught the gospel because she and her husband were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
One night I was invited to pray with them before we went to bed. At first, I was a bit offended because prayer was not part of my life, but I found it easy to pray with them. After the prayer, my uncle taught me how to pray and helped me to understand the importance of praying. He explained that prayer is communication with God and that a relationship with God is impossible without prayer. He taught me that God knows our needs, but we need to ask first.
Talking to my uncle really gave me the desire to learn how to pray. The first time I prayed, I learned that I am a child of God and that He cares about me and wants me to talk to Him always. After that, I knew that when I am looking for God, I must keep calling on Him, even if I am not sure how He will answer.
I know that when we pray to God, He will make Himself known to us. If He answered me, He can likewise answer you.

Bright, hot, red-orange flames leap and lash out in the clear dark night. Grandpa drops a big pine log on the fire, sending a shower of sparks into the air. It needs to burn just a little longer, and then the coals will be ready to cook on. The season is initiated once again by our Memorial Day bonfire.
Memorial Day is the opening of a new season of ranch life. The excitement throughout the family is intense. Each age group anticipates the season in a different way, and each group has its own tradition for bonfire night.
As grandma scuttles around the kitchen gathering food and utensils on trays for the dinner, she gives out instructions for the rest of us. “Ed, go cut the willows and take some of the kids with you. Boys, go with Tom to gather more wood. Oh, and be careful with that saw. Someone take the little kids away from the kitchen. Find them something to do until dinner. Mitzi, could you please wash off the picnic table? You know how dirty it always is after a winter like this.” And so the day proceeds, each member doing something to get ready for the picnic and evening around the bonfire.
The bonfire pit is right in the center of the yard. It has been there as long as I can remember. I suppose grandpa built it when we first acquired the ranch, since he is generally building something for others to enjoy. It is quite a large pit and has big rocks encircling it. On one side of the pit lies the fish pond with an arched bridge over it. On another side is the house, surrounded by a big lawn and several swing sets. On the other side is the patio, where we eat. Across the pond grandpa and the children attack the willows. Each grandchild gets to hold a willow, bigger than himself, as it is lopped off the bush. The children each proudly carry their sticks across the bridge and to the table, where the fight over who gets to whittle begins.
Soon everyone starts to gather at the patio. As if from nowhere, children appear and grab hot dogs and sticks. Unlike other days, at the picnic you don’t have to eat food you don’t like, and if you want to eat one thing now and another later, it’s okay.
This Memorial Day holiday brings all my mother’s brothers and sisters and their families together. The mothers bustle around batting flies away, pouring mustard and catsup, cutting up hot dogs, serving salad, and warning everyone not to spill the pop. Fathers mention how good it is to have potato salad again, even if it must be eaten with hot dogs.
With dinner over, the family slowly assembles around the fire. Even the children are quiet, as if in awe, as grandpa pokes the fire back to life and throws on another log. This peace and tranquility lasts about ten minutes while everyone reflects on the fun times ahead. Children are thinking of horseback riding and rafting in the pond, playing hide-and-seek and chase games. Parents think of quiet evenings after the children are asleep, walks along the river, and conversations with each other.
One by one the kids become restless and leave the fire to swing, ride the tractor, feed the fish, or just run. Mothers disappear into the house and reappear laden with jackets. The older kids, forced into jackets, slowly disperse to meet later on the big back lawn for a game of “ditch.” This is a game quite similar to hide-and-seek, except that it must be played in the dark and there is no free place to run to. The adults sit around the fire and talk.
As the evening slowly fades away, the attendance around the fire diminishes. Three generations remain at the fire to the end: Grandpa, Uncle Tom, and I. We sit, enjoying one another’s company until our eyes meet; then the three of us race for the hose to put the fire out. Whoever gets to the hose first gets the pleasure of making the first big sizzle and puff of smoke. The other two tote buckets of water from the pond until all that is left of our fire is clouds of smoke.
Putting out the fire signifies the lighting of many more throughout the summer. Each bonfire proceeds in much the same way. Grandma fixes the food and gives instructions, grandpa cuts willows, the children play the same games each time, and the feeling of togetherness is ever present.

As the Christmas season drew near, Nathan anxiously shared some news with his family at dinner one evening.
“Gard told me today that he has not had a Christmas tree since he was a boy.”
With that announcement, the family soon outlined a plan of action—Gard would have a Christmas tree!
On Saturday, Nathan’s family drove to the nearby forest for their traditional Christmas-tree hunt. In the past their goal had been to search until they found a perfect blue spruce for their home, but this year everyone felt more excitement than ever before at finding the right tree for Gard. A perfect little spruce caught Nathan’s eye, and everyone approved. They took the tree home to prepare for Gard’s Christmas surprise.
On Monday for family home evening, Mom helped Nathan, Angie, and Eric make ornaments out of felt, glitter, ribbon, buttons, and beads. Then they decorated the tree and loaded it into the back of their truck.
Nathan had never felt such excitement as they huddled together around the tree before knocking on Gard’s door. As soon as they heard the click of the latch, everyone started singing, “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.”
Gard’s eyes lit up with excitement, followed by a few tears of joy as he invited them in. He danced from one foot to the other as he helped Nathan and Dad place the tree in front of his window that faced the street. Gard was so excited about his Christmas tree that he left it standing and decorated until March! Nathan and his family felt a warm peace in their hearts as they observed the soft glow of Gard’s tree lights each evening throughout the winter.

When I was assigned to home teach a sister whom I shall call Ruth Elliott, she was new in the ward. I wanted to learn a little about her before I first called at her home, so I talked with her former bishop, with her daughter who lived in another ward, and with others who knew her.
Sister Elliott lived alone in a small apartment that was furnished with a broken-down upholstered chair. She spent most of her time in that chair—or in bed. She seldom left the apartment and had no outside interests.
Sister Elliott smoked and depended heavily on medications. Through the years her doctors had prescribed a number of medicines, and she continued to take many of them. Her appearance, manner, and conversation reflected a bitter attitude toward her life and circumstances. She harbored deep resentment toward her father and others, and an unfortunate incident with a Church member had wounded her deeply. I prayed fervently to know how best to serve this troubled woman.
Shortly after I had been called as her home teacher, an opportunity came. Her landlady was having the apartment painted, and she had asked Sister Elliott to move her furniture outside before the work could be done. Our ward’s high priest group leader and I moved the furniture out and then back in after the paint had dried.
Once, when Sister Elliott was out of town, my wife, Virginia, and I decided to repair the broken-down chair. It had a good frame but needed new padding and fabric. Virginia did an excellent upholstering job on the chair, and we had it back in the apartment before Sister Elliott returned from her trip.
My junior companion and I visited sister Elliott regularly, and Virginia and I also went often to visit, talk about the gospel, and offer a prayer. Gradually, she began to accept and return our friendship, and we became closely involved in each other’s lives.
One spring, when Sister Elliott had to undergo surgery, Virginia and I spent many hours with her. We kept in touch daily, taking her to church, to the doctor’s office, and to the store, and she would telephone us each night before going to bed. She was lonely and needed someone to listen to her.
We were out of town when Sister Elliott had the surgery, but we telephoned her at the hospital and offered words of encouragement. She had received a priesthood blessing and felt that the Lord would watch over her. After her operation, she determined to stop smoking. Before her grandson had left for his mission, he had asked her to give up this habit—and she was able to accomplish the task through the Lord’s help and through her own strong desire to please her grandson.
As the months passed, Sister Elliott made new friends and found outside interests. Her church attendance improved, and she began to pay tithing. At first she did not want to go to tithing settlement, but I asked her to be ready when I stopped to give her a ride to the meetinghouse. Afterward, she radiated happiness. She had paid a full tithing for the first time in her life.
By now, her attitude toward life had changed dramatically. The bitterness was gone, replaced by a humble and contrite spirit. She forgave those who had offended her. And as she increased her tolerance and love for her children, they gradually changed their attitude and behavior toward her.
Sister Elliott eventually moved to a new apartment, furnished it attractively, and made more friends. A new physician helped her overcome her dependency on medication. She learned to rely on the Lord and on her own strength to cope with problems.
The blessings that have come to the “new” Sister Elliott have been many, including participation in the sacred temple ceremonies with her family and friends. I am deeply grateful for my opportunity to serve as her home teacher. Indeed, I loved the “old” Sister Elliott as much as the “new” Sister Elliott—but now I don’t need to feel sad because of her dreary life. Today her life is full and pleasant, enriched by the blessings of gospel living.

In a typical Samoan family, a young man does the family cooking in a umu (fire pit oven). His little brothers are usually right there to watch and help him. One of the first things this young cook does is to slash off a few palm fronds with his big bush knife. Then he slits them in half down the thick middle of the stem, fastening the rib into a loop and quickly weaving the leaf fringes into sturdy workbaskets.
Later, the older brother gets into his pao pao (dugout canoe) and goes to the plantation for taro (an edible root). By the time he returns with his baskets full of taro, his little brothers have a pile of wood ready for the fire.
When the fire is hot, the special rocks layered on top begin to glow red. The young cook slashes the leaf fringes off a small coconut tree branch, trims the green rib, and bends it in the middle to make fire tongs to arrange the hot stones in the cleared-out fire pit. Over them he spreads layers of banana leaves, taro, breadfruit, green bananas, a leaf-wrapped fish or chicken, more leaves, more hot rocks, and then leaves and earth. In a few hours the family’s food is cooked for the weekend.

I enjoy all the Church magazines very much. Until I left home and went on a mission, I never fully realized how filled they were with the words of the Lord as spoken through his prophets and other inspired men and women. I am working diligently to share the gospel with a girl back home in Virginia, and I have been turning more and more to the Church magazines in my efforts to fully answer her many questions.
My missionary apartment has a good-sized stack of Church magazines, of course, so one day I went through the whole stack, picking out those that I thought my friend would benefit from. When I finished, the stack I had picked out was larger than the stack that was left. I knew I couldn’t send that many magazines, so I tried again. About halfway through I stopped because every magazine had at least one good article or message. Finally I gritted my teeth and picked out the very best, but I still sent her a good-sized stack, along with a subscription to the New Era and the Ensign. I know that every one of those 23 issues will help her testimony grow, just as anyone reading them, member or nonmember, will be touched by them in some way.
Elder WoodmanIowa Des Moines Mission

For 17-year-old twins Titaina and Titaua Germain, from the Haumi Branch on the island of Moorea, those special missionaries are Elder Nelson and Elder Snowden. The twins, who share everything including remarkably similar faces, said, “When the missionaries explained to us about the principles of the gospel, we were truly astounded. It was as if we had dreamed of meeting people who lived like this and a church that worked like this one.”
The twins have to wait until their 18th birthday to be baptized, but they attend all their meetings and institute classes besides. “We were both interested from the moment we heard about the gospel from Elder Nelson and Elder Snowden,” said Titaina. Or was it Titaua? “We feel the same about things.”

Certainly Sister Sylvia Rosen has learned the power of faithful patience. Sylvia is a young single mother from Utah with four children, one of whom is affected by a severe developmental disorder resembling autism. At a time of already great challenge in her life, she was diagnosed with advanced cancer. With renewed faith in our Heavenly Father, she let go of some activities and devoted herself to her top priorities: taking care of her family and pursuing medical treatment for her condition.

Today she continues to struggle with life’s challenges, but all her activities are mediated by a beautiful spirit of waiting on the Lord. As her health permits, she makes gifts for friends and delivers meals to neighbors in need of comfort. The more she gives to others, the more peaceful becomes her countenance. “I need all my faith and patience,” she says. “I am fighting for my life.”

Sister Rosen has learned the truth of Isaiah’s promise: “They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles” (Isa. 40:31).

My great-great-grandfather Jens Anderson was from Denmark. And in 1861 the Lord led two Mormon missionaries to the Jens and Ane Cathrine Anderson home, where the missionaries introduced them and their 16-year-old son, Andrew, to the restored gospel. Thus began a legacy of faith of which my family and I are the beneficiaries. The Andersons read the Book of Mormon and were baptized a short time later. The following year, the Anderson family heeded the call of a prophet to cross the Atlantic to join the Saints in North America.
Sadly, Jens died on the ocean voyage, but his wife and son continued to the Salt Lake Valley, arriving on September 3, 1862. Despite their hardships and their heartaches, their faith never wavered, and neither has the faith of many of their descendants.
In my office hangs a painting6 that captures so beautifully a symbolic reminder of that first meeting between my ancestors and those dedicated early missionaries. I am determined not to forget my heritage, and because of my name I will forever remember their legacy of faithfulness and sacrifice.

The Spirit was in evidence on many other occasions. At one point, it was discovered that someone was stealing the taros that had taken so much labor to plant. No one at Sauniatu seemed to know anything about it, and Brother Kamauoha became very concerned. That night, he prayed for direction in solving this problem. His prayer was answered with a dream in which he saw two villagers stealing the taros from the plantation. He saw how they were digging them up, cutting the leaves off the roots, and sticking the leaves back into the ground. He saw where they were hiding the taro roots and how they would come back for them later in the night. The next day, he called the two men into his office and asked them why they had been stealing the taros. They were belligerent and asked, “What makes you think we are the ones?”
Brother Kamauoha replied, “I know you are stealing the taros because the Lord showed me in a dream.” Then he related step by step just how they had done it. “They cried, were very sorry, and learned a great lesson about lying: You can lie to another man, but you cannot lie to God.
“I have had many experiences that have made me realize that the Lord will help you to do the impossible. When you operate like this, you learn that keeping the Spirit is the most important thing.
“One day, we had a work crew organized, and we needed 13,000 fathoms of sennett (rope made from coconut husks) to tie the pieces of the roof on the McKay house together. I had received promises from many people that they would supply the rope, but when I went to pick it up, no one had it ready. After driving all over the island, I had collected only about 30 fathoms. I was discouraged, and so I complained to God. In my prayers, I said, ‘We are working hard, and yet I can’t get the help I need.’
“I had to stop at the mission home to confirm another appointment, and one of the supervising elders said, ‘Brother Kamauoha, I have some sennett you can use.’
“I thought, ‘How nice,’ but I was sure an elder’s little souvenir roll of sennett wouldn’t really help us. He went into his room and came out with this big roll. He handed it to me and said he had about 13,000 fathoms as he wanted to build a Samoan fale (house) with it when he got home to the U.S.
“You can bet I hurriedly went back to the Lord and retracted my complaining. I was truly sorry for ever being discouraged.”
When the various projects were well into their second year, Brother Kamauoha reported that the people really learned that a job is not done until it is complete. After building roads, bridges, and the steps to the waterfall, the people at Sauniatu had to put in a culinary water system. They wanted to pipe water from a spring. They had no money for pipe, so they dug up some old pipe that had been used years before and cleaned it in the river. Then they painted the usable pieces. They only had enough good pipe to make a straight line from the spring to the village. Seventy-five feet of lava bedrock lay in the path of their trench.
“I told them, ‘We have enough good pipe to make a straight pipeline. So if you want water and you want it badly enough, then you’ll have to cut through the bedrock to the spring!’ A big Samoan man named Faleow Itopi, who had worked extra hard on every project said, ‘Why, after what we have done, this little bedrock is nothing.’
“We worked into the nights with lanterns. Faleow’s hands were bleeding, but he set an example for the students and showed them how to work. He was that way in all of his projects. When he built roads, he always built them too long rather than too short. He never took a shortcut because his heart was in the right place.”
From Ed Kamauoha and Faleow Itopi and other leaders like them, the young people of Sauniatu learned that despite being poor and often scorned by other men, they are important to the Lord, and he will help them be “Number 1.” Wherever they have gone as they have left Sauniatu, they have established the reputation of working hard and being the best.
Most of the young men who worked on Sauniatu went on missions. Elder Pouono Lameka is now serving a mission in Western Samoa. He spent three years at Sauniatu. He worked on the farm and the waterfall besides going to school. When he talks about his experiences at Sauniatu, his eyes shine and his face looks happy.
“I expanded at Sauniatu,” he said. “Brother Kamauoha encouraged me in school so that I improved and graduated from high school. He was my teacher—now he is my friend.”
Most of the students said they are grateful that they learned how to work, and they feel that this experience has helped them to face almost any problem. Mati Fuifatu said, “Ed taught me how to do things and then made it my responsibility to get them done.”
While the projects were being finished, the Sauniatu students’ academic ratings rose. They gained feelings of independence and pride and in three years raised themselves from the bottom of the standard test to the top scores in all the Church schools.
Poao and Atalina Ahhow met while they were both single teachers at Sauniatu. After they were married, they decided to go to BYU—Hawaii Campus and get additional schooling. Atalina said she learned about being a good mother and teaching a family from watching the young people work on the various projects.
“I also learned that you need to check after a project is done. If it isn’t right, do it over,” she said.
Her husband, Poao, said that he learned leadership skills, and once he caught the vision of doing the impossible, he felt he could go away for additional schooling so he could become a better teacher. “I learned that sometimes when the work is very hard, if you make a joke and smile, it seems easier.”
Poao and Atalina struggled at BYU—Hawaii because they didn’t have much money. “We had learned to sacrifice while at Sauniatu, and the Lord blessed us for it. When we needed money to do our washing, we would visit a pool near the temple. Every time we needed a quarter for the washing machine, it was waiting for us in the pool. Sometimes more was there, but we only took enough to do our washing. When we didn’t need money, we never saw money in the pool. This is one way the Lord helped us,” Poao said.
Brother Folau Neria and his wife, Leute, think of Sauniatu as a place of blessings because they have seen the Lord’s hand there. They were dorm parents while most of the work was being done, and Sister Neria worked with the girls who made one of the roads.
Brother Neria explained his feelings about Sauniatu. “I love that place. That’s where I met my sweetheart in 1942. Some of the first schoolteachers there taught me. I learned to take care of the work of the Lord there.
“We built that place with our hands and made it beautiful, then the Lord blessed it for us. Taros, bananas, everything grows better there than in any other place in Samoa.
“We learned how to work together and to teach each other to work. I was serving as bishop, and I learned that if we show people how to work and start first, they will soon follow.”
The spirit of Sauniatu seems to affect everyone who goes there. Brother Isamaeli, who works on maintenance at the school, said that he didn’t want to come at first. “But,” he said, “after I had been at Sauniatu for a while, I felt the Spirit of the Lord upon my family. I knew it was a blessing to be here. When my family is sick, I administer to them and they get better. Before we came here, my wife and I quarreled many times, and sometimes I lost patience with her. But I’m glad to say that now we have a very happy family.
“It is nice to live in a place that is far away from town and other big villages. It is very quiet, and we are free from drunkards, robbers, and other people who cause trouble.”
Today Losa Lane aptly fits President McKay’s description of Sauniatu as “the most beautiful place on earth.” The young people walking beneath the palms and orchids are beautiful. They love the Lord and work hard to improve themselves and live the gospel. And every year, a few of them are prepared to go forth into the world. They take the lessons of Sauniatu with them. And there is a great principle of leadership training that was used to teach all the lessons of Sauniatu: “We loved them,” said Brother Neria. “That is the way to make them work.”

For their efforts in saving the life of Levi Tapp, Sand Tapp and David Bos received Boy Scout National Council certificates of Heroism.
In a televised presentation, the two 11-year-olds received gold medals for risking their lives to save another’s. The three boys were walking along the bank of a lake close to their home. Levi slipped in the mud and fell through the ice at the edge of the lake. Sand and David crawled out to Levi, and with one holding the legs of the other, grabbed Levi and inched him up onto solid ice. Sand wrapped Levi in his coat and carried him the half mile to his home.
The boys are from the Second Ward, Springfield Missouri Stake.

When I was 14 years old, my sisters and I were the only members of the Church to attend our school in England. People began to discover that I was a Mormon, and it was not uncommon to have jokes or weird looks directed at me. While I did get questions, they were limited to rumor and gossip, and I soon grew tired of the negative attention. A lot of students simply avoided me. One girl in particular seemed quite wary of me. One day I bumped into her in the hall and felt that I should talk to her, but she would not talk, and without saying anything, she rushed away. This gave me the false resolve that church and school were two different worlds and should never meet.
A year later an American family moved into my ward, and their children attended my school. One of them, Annie, was in my year and soon became quite popular. I started seeing students from my school appearing at ward youth activities. One evening at a joint Young Men and Young Women activity, I saw the girl who had always avoided me. She was a friend of Annie’s, and she sheepishly came over to me. It turned out the reason she had avoided me was she had been told some outrageous stories about the Church, so she was afraid of talking to me. She ended up coming to seminary and taking the missionary discussions.
I realised that I had been wrong in keeping my two lives separate. Annie was the example that made me understand that I had missed so many opportunities for missionary work. I felt ashamed. If I had been more diligent, maybe I could have been a better example to those who might have been looking for the truth only the Church could provide.

In my senior year I started every game. We went 9-2-1, were nationally ranked, and went to the All-American Bowl in Birmingham, Alabama.
Before the game in Birmingham they have lots of festivities for the players. One of the activities was a Fellowship of Christian Athletes breakfast that was open to the public, and there were several hundred—probably a thousand—people there.
The night before, as I was saying my prayers, I felt that somehow I was going to speak at that breakfast. I didn’t know anything about the program, but I prayed that if I was called on, the Lord would be with me and I would be able to share something that would uplift those in attendance.
We got up early and went to the breakfast, and I was really enjoying it. When Coach Hydrick came up to me with a big smile on his face, I knew exactly what he was going to ask.
“Sam,” he said, “I was wondering if you would give a brief talk about your testimony and your relationship with the Lord.”
I said, “I’d love to.” Then I looked at my buddies at the table and realized that I’d never spoken to an audience of non-Mormons before. I had this extreme paranoia come over me, and I wondered what I was going to say.
As they introduced me and I walked up there before all those people, I felt weak all over. I don’t remember what exactly I said. I know I told them about the Savior and how he’d taken upon himself the sins of all mankind. I was doing pretty well emotionally until I started talking about my teammates. Then I started to cry because I loved them. I closed in the sacred name of the Savior.
Suddenly, I heard people start saying, “Amen,” “Hallelujah,” “Praise the Lord!” I was a little shocked at first. But then I saw people were crying, and I was crying, and it was a wonderful experience. After the breakfast, many people told me what I had said impressed them. I was just grateful that the Lord was able to touch their hearts.

My dad had joined the Church in Utah in December 1991. When he came back to Nigeria, we went to church for the first time. I got baptized in January 1992 when I was nine years old. When I was 14, the prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008), came to Nigeria at Port Harcourt. My family drove from Owerri to Port Harcourt. When we were driving back, the airport is along the Owerri road, we saw the prophet’s car. We told my father “Follow him”.
So, we followed the prophet to the airport. At the airport, they told the prophet some members had come to say goodbye. Nobody told us to come. We were just lucky to see the prophet on the way. While the prophet was shaking all our hands, he shook my hand and held my it and said, “Will you go on a mission?”
I said “Yes”.
The prophet said, “If you go on a mission, the Lord will bless you and your family.”
I was 14 years then and had not entered university. I got my first degree before going on a mission. I entered university life in Nigeria. University life was different and influenced me. Then the miracles began. After you get your degree, you are required to do a year of national youth service. When I was called to do my national service, I was called to Lagos. Normally, a lot of people pay money in bribes to the government to go to Lagos, but I didn’t pay anything. While I was in Lagos, I had a mighty change of heart and I prepared to go on a mission. From Lagos I was sent to Accra as a missionary. I met my wife and came back to Accra after my mission, and we got married in 2010.
I am from Nigeria; but I live in Ghana. In January 2023, I went to my village to participate in the presidential election. The Church is not there. One day a man and a woman came to visit me at my house. I am married to a Ghanaian, and they wanted to talk to me. While visiting with them, what came into my mind was the question, “what can I do for this family?” I felt like the best gift I could give this family was the gospel. I asked them if I could come to their home on Tuesday to teach them. As I was teaching them, they were responding positively. I focused on family and taught them the importance of family first. I then went to the house next door to teach their neighbors. I did not even start with my kindred. My kindred came to me later and were upset. They said to me, “how can you start a church and not even tell us?”
It was not my plan to do missionary work when I was there. I took my scriptures, but I did not even take a white shirt and tie.
As I was going around teaching the people of the village, there was a man who was baptized in 1982. He joined the Church in Lagos but when he came back to the village, the Church was not there. He became a pastor and used the Church’s Bible Dictionary and Topical Guide to teach. The people there thought he was a brilliant pastor. They didn’t know where he was getting his information from. Because he was technically a member, I focused on teaching his wife and daughter. The whole family got baptized. I was using my own money to hire a van to go to church in Umuahia, which was the closest place. The bishop and stake president were happy to receive us. My father even came from the city to the village to go to church with us.
I told my elder brother, who is a stake president in Owerri, what was going on. He said we fell under the Nigeria Enugu Mission. Eventually, we got permission to worship in my village. We decided to use my grandfather’s house to hold church in. My grandfather has passed away. When he was alive, white missionaries came to him and he said he would support the Church, this was back in the 90’s.
The people helped me move all the property and clean the house. The people cleaned the house as if they were members, but they were not yet baptized. The missionaries came and on the first Sunday, we had about 19 baptisms and later more, for a total of 39 baptisms. The stake president has applied for us to become a branch. My father came and bore his testimony and said he never thought the Church would be in his village.
The group still worships in my grandfather’s house. From my village, we now have two high councilmen called. There is someone enrolled in BYU Pathways. The Church is growing, and it makes me happy.

Sometimes we don’t understand the reason for heavenly instructions. God will occasionally send us instructions that we do not expect. I remember sitting in a sacrament meeting when an impression came clearly to my mind. The instruction was not a voice or a whisper but a clear thought indicating something I should do. I did not expect to receive such instruction during sacrament meeting.
I turned to my wife and told her the prompting I had just received. She indicated that I should obey the prompting, even though we did not understand the reason behind it.
As we obeyed that instruction, and as time went by, we had several witnesses that the direction we received brought us greater peace and ensured we remained on our path of growth.

Micah had a frown on his face. Mommy asked him to help set the table, but Micah said no. Daddy asked Micah to stop teasing his little sister, but Micah said no. Daddy said, “Micah, when you obey, it helps our family be happy.” Micah liked it when his family was happy. He went to the table. He put the forks and spoons next to the plates. Mommy smiled. “Thank you, Micah.” Then he gave his little sister a toy to play with. She smiled. Daddy smiled too. “Thank you, Micah.” Micah didn’t have a frown anymore. It turned upside-down into a big smile!

A few years ago my rugby team participated in a weeklong tournament. This meant seven days away from home, parents, and Church leaders. Because we attend a Church school, everyone on my team was a member of the Church. Almost every evening that week, the other teams in our hotel would party in their rooms with loud music, dancing, drinking, smoking, and screaming harsh words at each other. Our team gathered in a room for our tradition of scripture study and evening devotionals. It felt good to do the right thing without being instructed by our parents. After the other teams observed us with surprise, we gained their respect. They were silent when they knew we were having evening devotionals. They seemed to be interested in what we were doing, and some even joined with us to read the scriptures and pray together.
We didn’t win the tournament that week, but we won in another way. We were able to shine our light, and through our examples, change hearts and minds.
Elisara E., 20, Samoa