Gospel Story Finder

Four years ago George W. Ormsbee of the Klamath Falls Third Ward, Klamath Falls Oregon Stake, set the goal of having 100 percent attendance at seminary, even though it meant getting up at 5:00 A.M. to be at seminary by 6:00 A.M. He reached his goal, but it wasn’t easy. When the family traveled to Provo to take his brother to the Missionary Training Center, George arranged to attend seminary in Utah. George also participates in drama, football, and track and has received a number of citizenship awards.

I have always loved to read the New Era. The March 1986 issue came a few days before we were to go down to Washington, D.C., to go to the temple. My older sister and I decided to save the New Era to read in the car on the way down. But neither of us could wait that long. We both secretly read it. Later, I felt guilty that I had cheated, so I admitted it to my sister. She started laughing and admitted it also. That just goes to show how well the New Era is enjoyed in our home. Thanks so much for publishing it. It is a real strength to me.
Melissa BoyerWillowdale, Ontario, Canada

When my wife started taking classes, I noticed that we started having stimulating and insightful significant discussions of the scriptures and Church matters more frequently. In one particularly significant experience, we spoke quietly with each other in the temple after a session, and she shared with me an understanding she had of the endowment ceremony. The Spirit testified of the truthfulness of what she was saying. That shared moment was a precious one in our relationship.
Now, I don’t think her classes provided this new knowledge; rather, her increased self-confidence and increased range of interests sent her prayerfully thinking into an area that she had previously thought of as “beyond her.” As a result of her spiritual insights, she elevated and broadened my knowledge of an important eternal truth.

We can easily get our lives out of balance. I remember a few years that were particularly challenging for me. Our family had grown to seven children. I had served as a counselor in the bishopric and was then given the sacred call as bishop of our ward. I was striving to manage our business that required long hours each day. I pay tribute to my wonderful wife, who always made it possible for me to serve the Lord.

There was simply too much to do in the time available. Instead of sacrificing things of significance, I decided I’d get up earlier, take care of my business, then spend the time required to be a good father and husband and a faithful member of the Church. It wasn’t easy. There were mornings when the alarm clock went off that I cracked open an eyelid and glared at it, daring it to keep ringing.

Nevertheless, the Lord was merciful and helped me to find the energy and time to do all I had committed to do. Although it was difficult, I have never regretted making the choice to heed the Savior’s call and follow Him.

The music we listen to can also have an effect on our lives. Listening to uplifting music will help us keep our thoughts and actions clean.
Tania Finn from Pocatello, Idaho, wrote about her experience of changing the kind of music she listens to.
“While on my drive to school every day, I played some instrumental music that allowed me to clear my thoughts and receive revelation for my life from my Father in Heaven. It was a testimony builder for me because I knew I was starting off every day feeling the Spirit.
“As I look back on the month of December (2000), I can see the Lord’s hand guiding me through my life. I know that it was because my spirit was prepared to listen to the Holy Ghost. I know what an important part the Holy Ghost plays in our lives, and I was glad to know that I was able to have the influence of the Holy Ghost in my life by choosing good music.”

Marie: It’s surprising how easily others will be influenced by a positive example. At my high school graduation some of my friends were trying to talk me into going to a party where there would be a lot of drinking. I told them, “No, I’ve made a commitment in my life,” and explained to them why I wouldn’t go. Afterwards, their response surprised me. They said, “You know, you’re right; let’s do something else instead.”
Through this experience I learned that it is important that we don’t give the impression to others that we think we are better than they are, but that we convey to them instead, “We accept you as you are, even though we don’t agree with everything you do. We love and respect you and would like you to love and respect us also.”

Tolerance so often does lead to love. Most of our nearly 30,000 missionaries serving throughout the world would bear testimony to that, as would the thousands who have returned. What an inspired program, sending us as missionaries all over the world, where we personally confront different languages, often different dress, different customs, and different food. We arrive as strangers and foreigners, uncomfortable and very aware of differences, but with a precious message of restored truth to deliver. That message motivates us to look beyond the differences; and as we teach these strangers who they are—the children of our Heavenly Father, our own brothers and sisters in an eternal family—differences give way to kinship.

Because my father served for three years in Samoa, I grew up loving the Samoan people, their customs, their food, and their language. My brother served in Alaska. Our son served in Germany. Our daughter served in Argentina. My husband and I served in New England. We’ve also spent much time in Israel and have had extended visits to Yugoslavia, Taiwan, and Hong Kong. So in three generations my family has had the blessing of going over much of the world delivering a message, but also bringing home a message of kinship and love for many peoples.

I can see in my mind’s eye dear Sini Salanoa, our Samoan friend, half a world away from his beloved islands for the first time, asking us in his broken English to “be his family” during his time in Boston in 1953. And beautiful, 14-year-old Julie Wang, whom we met in K’Liao, a tiny fishing village in Taiwan. In her quiet Chinese manner she described her first prayers, which began with sweet familiarity: “Hello, God. This is Julie Wang.” Or fine, spiritual Gunther Myer from Germany, who joined our family for scripture study on Sunday evenings for a whole year. These represent so many who have enriched our lives. There are no divisive differences between us. Our commitment to the gospel becomes the great common denominator. We know whose we are, all of us.

More than a year after Nancy and I were baptized, she began dating a young man named Luke. He had a bubbly personality and seemed to radiate love and excitement. At the time Nancy met him, he was looking for direction in his life and was eager to take the missionary discussions when Nancy told him about the gospel. His sister, Leonarda, also was interested in being taught.

Although Luke and Leonarda agreed with most of what was presented, they had trouble accepting that Joseph Smith was a prophet. Once they gained a testimony of Joseph Smith then everything else (the Book of Mormon, the restoration of the gospel, and the gospel principles taught by the prophets) would fall into place.

They came to our home to be taught by the elders. Once again the discussion centered on Joseph Smith. One of the elders suggested that we should each take a turn asking Heavenly Father if Joseph Smith was a prophet and then listen silently for a minute for the answer.

I won’t forget the feeling of peace that came into that room and touched each of our hearts as the Spirit bore witness to each of us that Joseph Smith was a prophet of the Lord. For some of us a testimony was gained that night; for others the truth was reaffirmed. Luke accepted baptism and Leonarda was baptized a few years later with her parents’ approval.

Since that night the Spirit has borne witness to me many times of the truthfulness of other gospel principles. But this experience stands out in my mind because it was one of my first experiences with personal revelation from a Heavenly Father who loves me. I learned that night the truth of the counsel found in Matthew 7:7, “Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.” [Matt. 7:7]

“Dora … Dora!” Ed was calling me in his coaxing voice. That usually meant he wanted me to do something for him. I dropped my spigot and walked over to where he was.

“We’re going to go swimming. Do you want to go with us?”

“Nah, I don’t want to.” I started to walk away.

“How come you never want to swim?” he asked.

“I don’t like drowning. That’s why.”

“You’ve never drowned yet,” he reminded me.

“I don’t intend to either,” I told him. “Even if I did go swimming, it wouldn’t be a hundred miles up in the air where you can’t climb out on the ground.”

“Ah, come on, Dora,” he coaxed. “We need you for a lookout so we don’t get caught.”

“What’ll you give me?”

“A pretty bottle. I found one where Papa was digging. Been buried a long time, and it’s purple.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Will you come?”

Why not? I thought. “If it’s as pretty as you say,” I finally agreed.

He pulled a piece of lavender colored glass from his pocket.

“It’s broken,” I said.

“Didn’t say it wasn’t,” he replied. “But just look at the color when the light shines through it.”

He was right. It was beautiful.

It was a long walk to the swimming spot we had found on the other edge of town. I guess it was worth it to the boys, who liked to be sweating hot when they climbed up the side and dropped into the cool water of the tank that stood by the tracks to fill the tenders of the train locomotives when they came by.

All my coolness had evaporated in the heat, and I stood waiting for the boys in the shade below the tank. I was grateful for any breeze that stirred the air to cool me off, and I kicked back the hot sand with my bare feet to see if there were a cooler spot underneath.

“When are you coming down?” I shouted up. I was answered only by loud splashes and playful laughing. They didn’t hear me. They didn’t even hear the mournful wail of the faraway train whistle or my shouts of “Train’s coming!”

They did hear the wild shriek of the brakes, though, as the engine shuddered to a stop. The sudden suspension of splashing in the tank told me that. I knew it was too late for them to climb out now without being caught, so I hid down in the shadows and tried to look invisible.

The engineer jumped out and turned on the spigot to fill the water tender on his train. If he noticed me, he ignored me. Soon he closed the valve, climbed back in the engine, and with a double toot of the whistle was on his way again.

After the train sounds died away, Ed shouted down, “Turn some more water into the tank.”

“What for? Aren’t you wet enough already?” I teased.

“So we can get out. That train drank half the water, and we can’t reach the top.”

“Can’t reach the bottom either,” Frank added.

“Where’s the tap?” I asked, looking around for it. I could only see the one the engineer used to drain the tank.

“I don’t know,” Ed shouted impatiently, “but find it!”

Finally I found another valve. But the tap had been shut off by stronger hands than mine. “I’m not strong enough,” I cried.

“Oh, come on,” Ed encouraged. “Try harder.”

“Why don’t you stand on each other’s shoulders?” I suggested.

“We tried that, and it doesn’t work. We still can’t reach.”

“Climb up the sides then.”

“It’s too slippery,” Ed called.

“Go get Papa,” Frank insisted.

“He’ll be mad,” I reminded him.

“He sure will,” Ed said, reconsidering.

Finally, however, there seemed to be no other solution, so I started off on a run to find Papa.

I was stumbling from fatigue and panting for breath when Mr. Leslie, one of our neighbors, came along on his horse.

“Why, what’s the matter, Dora?” he asked.

“My brothers will drown in the water tank. They can’t get out.”

“The train tank? They shouldn’t be in there.”

“I know they shouldn’t, but they are. They were swimming and the train came along and took most of the water. Now they can’t reach the top to get out and I can’t turn on the tap and they’ll drown.”

“There, there, now calm down. We’ll get them out,” Mr. Leslie said soothingly. “I have my rope right here.” He reached down and pulled me up behind him on the horse, and we loped all the way back to the tank.

“Ed?” I called to the silence that had settled down as we rode up. “Mr. Leslie’s going to turn on the water.”

When the water started running into the tank in a slow trickle, Mr. Leslie climbed up and pulled the boys out one at a time with the rope. When they were all out and scrambling into their clothes, Ed asked Mr. Leslie, “You aren’t going to tell Papa about this, are you?”

“Can’t think of any reason why not,” Mr. Leslie replied.

“ ’Cause he’ll whip us good,” Frank said.

“A little whippin’ never hurt any boy that I know of,” Mr. Leslie teased.

“He’ll never let us go swimming again,” Frank pleaded.

“It’ll save us a lot of trouble if you could just forget this happened,” Ed suggested. “We’re willing to pay by working for you. We’ll both pull weeds for you for half a day.”

“I’ll help too,” I offered.
The next morning when we got up Papa was waiting with a little green willow.

“Somebody needs a whipping,” he said. I couldn’t figure out how he’d heard about swimming in the train tank so soon.

“Come over here,” he directed, and he led us out by our water tank. “Look at that mess.” He pointed to a mire where the cows had sloshed up and down all night in the mud made by my siphon. He picked up the onion hose that had been pulled from the tank.

“Who,” he thundered, “thought of this?”

“I didn’t do it,” Ed said.

“Me neither,” Frank insisted.

“Well, I’m sure it wasn’t Georgie,” Papa said. “Dora, was it you?”

I turned my face down so I wouldn’t have to look at his blazing eyes, and he could tell I was guilty.

“Run along, boys,” he said. “I have some private business with Dora.”

He had to switch me a little so I’d learn my lesson. Then when he was through he said, “That was really a smart way to get a cold drink, but it sure made a mess, didn’t it? Next time remember to turn it off.”

(To be continued.)

A couple of weeks ago, I met astake Young Women president in California who told me that her 81-year-old mother had recently been called to be a Mia Maid adviser. I was so intrigued I gave her mother a call. When Sister Val Baker’s bishop asked to meet with her, she was looking forward to being called as a librarian or ward historian. When he asked her to serve as a Mia Maid adviser to the Young Women, her reaction was, “Are you sure?”
Her bishop solemnly replied, “Sister Baker, make no mistake; this call is from the Lord.”
She said she had no other answer to that except, “Of course.”
I love the inspiration this bishop felt that the four Mia Maids in his ward have much to learn from the wisdom, experience, and lifelong example of this mature sister. And guess whom Sister Baker will go to when she needs help setting up her Facebook page?

I read about Shannon in the New Era. Her high school speech teacher assigned a group project to the students. They were to select a scene from a play to perform for the class. One group chose a questionable scene dealing with morality issues. The teacher allowed them to keep their selection “for the sake of art.” But knowing that it might be offensive, the teacher gave permission for those who felt uncomfortable to leave the room.
As the students’ scene began, Shannon felt a little bit nervous. Several of her classmates blushed and giggled uneasily, but no one left. She looked at a few of her Latter-day Saint friends, watching for one of them to give the signal for them all to walk out together. But none of them did. Shannon remained at her desk with her head down so no one could see her crimson cheeks. She felt very uncomfortable, but she was also afraid to leave. After all, it was art, right? Shannon states:
“At [that] moment, the Young Women theme came into my mind: ‘We will “stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places.”’ (Mosiah 18:9). Immediately, I knew what [I was going to] do. ‘All places’ meant everywhere, even in a classroom with my friends.
“Quietly, I got up and left the room. That was it. No one got up and followed me. No one applauded my valiant act. No one was converted by my example. But inside I knew I had done the right thing” (Shannon D. Jensen, “Stand as a Witness,” New Era, Nov. 1998, 10).

Renisha also tries to encourage her friends in the Church, as they encourage her. A special memory for Renisha happened at a youth activity last year. A testimony meeting had been planned, and many of the youth were nervous about bearing their testimonies. Renisha and the Young Men president talked and encouraged each other to go first. “We said we would go up and be an example,” she said. “We didn’t want to be scared. We just did it.” After they bore their testimonies, many other youth followed. It turned into a powerful and joyful experience. Everyone felt the Spirit, and afterward, the youth took photos together, smiled, and were happy about the experience. “It just takes one person to be brave,” Renisha said. “That day strengthened my testimony.”

To me, education is like a key that opens doors to opportunity. And education through BYU–Pathway Worldwide’s PathwayConnect program in Ghana has given me the opportunity to improve my knowledge. Knowledge is power to improve the lives of my own family members and those around me.
After graduating from a BYU–Idaho online degree program, I interned with a financial company in Ghana and started working for them full-time. I liked what I was doing, and they liked my services. But after a while, the company went under, and I was out of a job.
That was discouraging, but I continued applying what I had learned from school and from my mission. I decided to take the skills I learned at my previous job and start my own business providing financial services.
My journey after graduation has been filled with ups and downs, but I don’t regret making education a priority. Without it, I wouldn’t be able to manage my own business right now.

May I share with you an account of an opportunity of service which came to me unexpectedly and in an unusual manner. I received a telephone call from a granddaughter of an old friend. She asked, “Do you remember Francis Brems, who was your Sunday School teacher?” I told her that I did. She continued, “He is now 105 years of age. He lives in a small care center but meets with the entire family each Sunday, where he delivers a Sunday School lesson. Last Sunday, Grandpa announced to us, ‘My dears, I am going to die this week. Will you please call Tommy Monson and tell him this. He’ll know what to do.’”
I visited Brother Brems the very next evening. I could not speak to him, for he was deaf. I could not write a message for him to read, for he was blind. What was I to do? I was told that his family communicated with him by taking the finger of his right hand and then tracing on the palm of his left hand the name of the person visiting and then any message. I followed the procedure and took his finger and spelled on the palm of his hand T-O-M-M-Y M-O-N-S-O-N. Brother Brems became excited and, taking my hands, placed them on his head. I knew his desire was to receive a priesthood blessing. The driver who had taken me to the care center joined me as we placed our hands on the head of Brother Brems and provided the desired blessing. Afterward, tears streamed from his sightless eyes. He grasped our hands, and we read the movement of his lips. The message: “Thank you so much.”
Within that very week, just as Brother Brems had predicted, he passed away. I received the telephone call and then met with the family as funeral arrangements were made. How thankful I am that a response to render service was not delayed.

“When I was six years old, I had an experience that is very important to me. I’m afraid that I didn’t come out of it as a hero—exactly the opposite. Most of the time we’re not heroes. We are learning, progressing, correcting our mistakes. This incident really taught me about the consequences of dishonesty. In Germany at that time, if teachers wanted to send information to parents, they sent home a letter. Such a letter was always sent in a blue envelope, and so it was nicknamed the ‘blue letter.’ A blue letter always contained bad news! I must have done something wrong at school, because I got a blue letter. I put it in my school bag, and when I got home, my mother asked, ‘What’s wrong with you?’

“I lied. ‘Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.’

“She said, ‘Well, I see by the tip of your nose that something’s wrong.’

“That made me angry and very defensive, so after lunch I went into the living room and opened up my school bag and put everything on the desk. I must have been careless, because the blue letter fell out. My mother immediately saw it and asked, ‘What’s that?’ I tried to grab the envelope and hide it, but Mother had already picked it up and was opening it.

“I will never forget the feelings of pain that came over me while she was reading that letter. To make a mistake is one thing, but it isn’t a really serious mistake if you admit it, ask for forgiveness, and make a commitment not to do it again. But to try to hide a mistake, hoping that nobody will find out, that’s a serious mistake.

“And so the lie caused me much more sorrow than the original mistake. I can’t even remember what was in that blue letter, but I still recall, in vivid detail, the awfulness of lying to my mother.”

Hans Moffett, Sean Powell, and Shayne Stokes, from Brigham City, Utah, were swim instructors and lifeguards at the community pool during the summer of 1990 when they met five-year-old Ashlee Wyatt. She was “different” from the other kids. One side of her face is disfigured from a birthmark called a strawberry hemangioma—a benign tumor that typically occurs as a purplish or reddish elevated area of skin.
Ashlee was very self-conscious, and some of the other children either shunned her or made fun of her. Consequently, she kept to herself much of the time when she and her brother and sisters would come to the pool for free-time swimming on those summer afternoons.
“We knew Ashlee was going to have a hard life because of her appearance,” comments Hans. “We felt bad for her and wanted to help her. We knew she wouldn’t take swimming lessons with other kids, so we talked to our supervisor and asked for permission to give Ashlee swim lessons after the pool was closed to the public.” Permission was granted. Then they talked to her mother, Darlene Wyatt, and she thought it was a great idea.
Every week for two months, Ashlee and her mom came to the pool in the early evening so Ashlee could learn to swim. The boys were totally dedicated. They would not let anything interfere with their lessons with Ashlee. And they would not take any pay.
However, even with private lessons, Ashlee was sometimes uncooperative and withdrawn at first. The boys nicknamed her “Stinker” because, to quote her mom, “She was one!” But with each lesson Ashlee gained more trust for her young instructors. And Hans, Sean, and Shayne became more attached to this shy little girl. At the end of the summer, the boys gave Ashlee a huge stuffed animal—a skunk. And guess what she named it? That’s right—Stinker. Her mom says that even now, months later, when Ashlee is feeling stressed or unhappy, she will carry Stinker around the house with her, and she cuddles her stuffed animal friend close to her when she goes to sleep.
The friendship between Ashlee and her young swim teachers did not end that summer. The boys kept in close contact with Ashlee and her family. Ashlee’s parents, Brent and Darlene Wyatt, have six other children. “All seven kids get hugs and lots of attention when the boys pay us a visit. They just let them crawl all over them,” says Ashlee’s mom. “They have spread their love throughout our family.”
And the close friendship goes on. Sean still lives in the area. “I just love Ashlee. She’s great!” he comments. He took a Christmas present to her on Christmas Eve this past year and visits her on a regular basis. “She really warmed up to us and came out of her shell once she learned to trust us,” he says.
Hans is on a mission in the Canada Vancouver Mission. And Shayne serves in the Austria Vienna Mission. Guess who their favorite pen pal is? All three boys agree that “Ashlee helped us more than we helped her.”
“Hans, Sean, and Shayne looked beyond the fact that Ashlee is different,” Ashlee’s mother comments. “Their acceptance of her as a person helped Ashlee gain confidence in herself. She is more willing now to try new things and meet new people. They have done so much for her sense of self-worth. I can’t say enough good about them.”
At the end of that summer of swimming lessons, Ashlee’s mom wrote a letter to the three swim teachers expressing her deep feelings of appreciation.
Dear Hans, Sean, and Shayne:
I would like you to know how much I appreciate all you have done for Ashlee this summer. You have helped build Ashlee’s confidence in herself, not only in her swimming skills but also in all areas of her life. Each week she would proudly tell everyone who would listen all about her swimming lessons. We have seen her become more willing to open up and talk to people she had always ignored before. People in our ward have noticed a gleam in Ashlee’s eyes that wasn’t always there.
For most of her life, we, as a family, have had to learn to deal with the negative response Ashlee gets from strangers. In a world where looks are so important to how people assess our worth, it is nice to know that there are individuals who can look past the physical.
I’m not sure why the three of you chose Ashlee as someone you wanted to spend some time with, but I will always be grateful for all you have done. You’ve made this summer more than a summer to remember; it’s one we will cherish.
Keep in touch!
Forever grateful,
Darlene Wyatt

The restored gospel was not preached again in Bulgaria for 90 years. As the Communist era ended, then-Elder Russell M. Nelson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles traveled to Sofia with other Church leaders. In February 1990, during a meeting with government officials, Elder Nelson asked what the Church could do for Bulgaria and was asked to send English teachers.
That fall, six missionaries, most with formal teaching experience, began teaching English classes in Sofia, Pravets, and Smolyan. In Sofia, Elder Morris and Sister Annetta Mower found several members of the Church—baptized elsewhere in Europe—already living in the area. On October 14, 1990, the Mowers began holding weekly Church services in their apartment. Within a month, more than 50 people were cramming into the Mowers’ tiny apartment for the weekly meetings. 5 When the first proselytizing missionaries arrived in November, six people were awaiting baptism. 6 As interest in the Church grew, the need for a mission headquartered in Bulgaria was soon clear.
One morning in April 1991, Kiril and Nevenka Kiriakov were at their home in Virginia when the telephone rang. Nevenka immediately recognized the familiar voice: “May I speak with Brother Kiriakov?” then-Elder Thomas S. Monson asked. 7
“Certainly,” she responded. Before she could hand the phone to Kiril, however, Elder Monson continued, “How would you feel if your husband were called as the first mission president in Bulgaria?” 8
Kiril and Nevenka had fled Bulgaria in 1963 with their children, Julia and Peter, and joined the Church in France before settling in the United States. Although Communist authorities had threatened Kiril with death and his family with life imprisonment if they ever returned, Kiril had been promised in a blessing that he would preach the gospel in Bulgaria. With a new government in place, they felt safe to return. Despite Kiril’s significant health concerns, he and Nevenka courageously accepted a call to serve. 9 “I was anxious to see all my relatives and friends,” Nevenka said, “and share with them the restored gospel of Jesus Christ.” 10
As Kiril and Nevenka prepared to return to their homeland, the first missionaries who would serve under their leadership were arriving at the missionary training center in Provo, Utah, USA. The language teacher who greeted them on their first day was Julia Kiriakov Caswell, Kiril and Nevenka’s daughter. 11
In July 1991, the Bulgaria Sofia Mission officially opened. Through the faith, perseverance, and efforts of the local members and the missionaries, the Church soon received official recognition. 12 By the end of 1991, more than 150 Bulgarian Saints had been baptized. 13
Decades before the opportunity to preach the gospel in Bulgaria would become a reality, the Lord started making preparations. Despite the Church’s long absence in the country and early difficulties, the faith and diligence of those whom the Lord prepared opened the door for many others to receive the restored gospel.

After I learned to read as a child, I started reading the Bible. By the time I was 10, I wanted, like Joseph Smith, to find the right church to join. I started to investigate churches around my home. Then one day a friend of my mother invited us to a family home evening.
“This is it,” I thought. “This is the church!”
Two weeks later, we were baptized members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

“I’m going to be honest,” Tyreece says. “The only reason I wanted to become a member was to be with a girl.” He was 17 when he met her and had no idea that their growing friendship would change his life.
At first, she hesitated to tell Tyreece that she was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—she worried he might unfairly judge her. Instead, his reaction was: “Oh yeah? So how do you become a member?” This led to an in-depth discussion about the gospel of Jesus Christ and the standards that Latter-day Saints try to live by. Then she explained her own commitment that she would only marry a returned missionary.
“I’ll do it,” was Tyreece’s immediate reply. He decided then and there that he would join the Church and serve a mission. She was worth it.
The very next day, he went missionary hunting. “You know how missionaries hunt for nonmembers or less-active members?” he explains. “I was hunting for missionaries—looking for them.” Tyreece started by asking his schoolmates and discovered that one of his friends, Siale Aloua, was a member of the Church. Siale confirmed that Tyreece should definitely talk to the missionaries, but in the meantime, he was happy to answer any questions Tyreece had.
One day, while heading home from school, Tyreece spotted, far in the distance, two young men in white shirts, walking together down the road. “Straightaway I ran after them!” Just as Tyreece was catching up, the missionaries entered a house. “So, I waited outside, across the road, for nearly an hour just to talk to them.”
When the missionaries finally emerged from the house, Tyreece rushed over and introduced himself, then told them he wanted to join their Church. The missionaries were understandably stunned and excited, but they told Tyreece that he had a lot to learn first. Less than 24 hours later, they taught him the first missionary discussion at a nearby park.
“I really wanted that lesson, ASAP, because the only thing on my mind was to become a returned missionary. So, I was trying to become a member as fast as I could.” But things didn’t work out the way he hoped. Heavenly Father had a different plan.
Around this time, Tyreece’s relationship with his parents was difficult, and he acknowledges his part in the problem. “I was like, talking back, disrespectful and all that, and my parents threatened to kick me out because they couldn’t handle me.”
When Tyreece returned home from his first lesson with the missionaries, he found all his belongings strewn about. “That’s how bad my parents wanted to get rid of me,” he says. But he thought about the pamphlet the missionaries had just given him about the gospel of Jesus Christ; and remembered the invitation they had extended to him: to go home and pray to Heavenly Father. Instead of reacting to the circumstances, Tyreece says, “I just ignored it all and I just did a prayer.”
He immediately felt the Holy Spirit. The feeling came with a sense of clarity, even at such an unsettling time for him. He stayed with a friend for a few days, then decided to reach out to the missionaries, to explain his home situation and ask for advice. Within five minutes, the missionaries found him board with a family in their ward. It was then that Tyreece knew in his heart that Heavenly Father is real, and that he could put all his trust and faith in Him.
“I ended up staying with the family for a while,” Tyreece says. During his time with them, he continued to receive lessons from the missionaries, participated in the Church’s youth and then young single adult programmes, and was able to learn the routines of a Latter-day Saint home. He began to truly study the scriptures, and when he discovered the Lord’s commandment to honour our parents, Tyreece knew he had to make things right with his own family.
He and his parents started talking again and slowly rebuilt their relationship. His mother even started attending Church with him—she wanted to know the cause of her son’s change of heart. Around this time, Tyreece witnessed his friend Siale prepare for and be called to serve in the Brisbane Australia Mission. His testimony of the Church continued to grow and to strengthen. He just knew that all the blessings pouring into his life came from his choice to follow the teachings of Jesus Christ.
Over a year after his first meeting with the missionaries, with his parents in attendance to support him, Tyreece entered the waters of baptism and became a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He is currently preparing to serve a mission, but more importantly, Tyreece can confidently declare: “Even though I started this journey for someone else, my testimony of the gospel is now my own.”
Tyreece’s progress in the Church has not gone unnoticed. At the end of 2022, he was asked to speak at the Auckland Papatoetoe Stake conference, where he bore his testimony:
“I know this Church is true. I know that when your faith in Heavenly Father is strong, He will bless you and your family for all eternity. I know that when you follow Heavenly Father’s commandments, He will guide you and your family to the right path . . . I have seen it with my own eyes and through experience. Now I want to help guide families towards Heavenly Father, so they can be together forever for all eternity.”

In 1959 I received that invitation. I did not even know of this, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. At a dance I met a young lady who was raised in the gospel. I was attracted to her. She said to me, “You know, I could never consider marrying you unless it were in the temple.” I responded to that invitation and was taught the gospel. She is now my eternal companion. I will ever be grateful that was the invitation she extended to me, for it has transformed my life.