Gospel Story Finder

Sister Rita was baptized in August 2018 by her son, Brother Debdeep. She came to know about the Church from his son who became a member while staying in Texas. After investigating the Church for few weeks and learning about the gospel, Sister Rita was inspired to take the decision to be baptized. It is a joy to watch her grow strong in her testimony and her hunger to learn more about our Savior every day, something which President Nelson invited us to do in his counsel “Our focus must be riveted on the Savior and His gospel. It is mentally rigorous to strive to look unto Him in every thought. But when we do, our doubts and fears flee.” (Russell M. Nelson, “Drawing the Power of Jesus Christ into Our Lives,” Apr. 2017 General Conference; Liahona, May 2017).

On the eve of his martyrdom, the Prophet turned to Dr. Willard Richards and said:
“If we go into the cell, will you go in with us?” The doctor answered, “Brother Joseph you did not ask me to cross the river with you—you did not ask me to come to Carthage—you did not ask me to come to jail with you—and do you think I would forsake you now? But I will tell you what I will do; if you are condemned to be hung for treason, I will be hung in your stead, and you shall go free.” Joseph said, “You cannot.” The doctor replied, “I will.”
How does one explain the depths of this love and loyalty? Joseph’s friends loved him because they knew the extent of his love for them. Nothing in Joseph’s life was more important than friendship.

The first thing Zayne Callahan can remember is living in the basement of an orphanage in China. He had been there since he was a baby. Zayne later learned that he was kept in the basement so people who came to the orphanage to adopt children wouldn’t see him.

“I was considered an embarrassment because I was born with spina bifida,” Zayne says. Spina bifida is a birth defect that made his legs weak and prevented him from walking normally. “I wasn’t able to go to school or hardly even learn the Chinese language because the people at the orphanage didn’t think it was important to teach a child with a disability.”

Zayne was seven years old when John and Wendy Callahan—his future parents—first saw him on a videotape of Chinese children waiting to be adopted. When the photographer passed the camera over Zayne briefly, he smiled and waved. That action won the hearts of his future parents who recognized his brave, strong, intelligent spirit.

That was five years ago. Now, Zayne is a deacon in the Lolo Ward of the Stevensville Montana Stake. When he turned 12, he wanted to fulfill his priesthood responsibilities by passing the sacrament. That was a big challenge for a boy who must use crutches to walk.

Originally, Zayne tried to pass the sacrament while balancing on his crutches. When that didn’t work, he decided to use his wheelchair instead. Now Zayne passes the sacrament by placing the trays on his lap and wheeling down the aisles.

Zayne works hard to fulfill his other priesthood duties too. An older member in his ward says she was impressed when the young men went to her home to pick up rocks as a service project. She found Zayne sitting on the ground putting rocks into a wheelbarrow. He had laid his crutches down because they were in the way, but his disability didn’t stop him from serving just like the other boys.

According to his father, Zayne doesn’t waste time feeling sorry for himself. If he wants to do something, he figures out a way to do it. He played a lead part in the school production of Red Riding Hood. He was the head wolf and led a pack of wolves onstage, his crutches keeping time to the music. He is also an accomplished violinist and pianist. While playing his violin, he has to sit on a high stool rather than stand like most violinists, but that doesn’t distract from the beauty of his music.

No matter where Zayne goes or what he does, people notice his good example. One classmate summed it up by saying, “He’s that boy with the big smile.”

In 1829, when Joseph was finishing the translation of the Book of Mormon, Hyrum was anxious to begin spreading the gospel and building the Church. He asked Joseph to inquire of the Lord what he should do. In section 11 of the Doctrine and Covenants we read the Lord’s response: “Seek not to declare my word, but first seek to obtain my word. … Study my word which hath gone forth … , and also study my word … which is now translating.”
Hyrum’s life is a witness to his obedience to this instruction. To the very last day of his life, he devoted himself to obtaining the word through study of the scriptures. In Carthage Jail, he read and commented on extracts from the Book of Mormon. The scriptures were obviously part of Hyrum’s being, and he turned to them during times when he needed comfort and strength the most.

As a young BYU student I learned a little something about staying on course when heading home. One Christmas Eve my brother and I left to drive home to Kansas. But early in our journey we learned that a huge snowstorm was heading our way, so we pulled out a map, identified a detour that would skirt the edge of the storm, and headed into parts unknown. Our creative navigating proved dangerous. Our new route was unfamiliar, and we still ran right into the blizzard. To make matters worse, late that night as we were creeping along in blinding snow on an obscure highway, our old Ford quit. We were stranded. And we had absolutely no idea where we were.

Eventually we caught a ride to the nearest town, where we found that we were still hours from home and marooned in Last Chance, Colorado. At that point there was only one thing to do. We called home for help. In the middle of the night our father left to come and rescue us. By the next afternoon we were all safely home.

I’ll never forget Christmas Eve in Last Chance, where we were immobilized by a problem largely of our own making and one we were unequipped to solve. That day our father did for us what we could not do for ourselves.

I grew up in a small farming town where water was the lifeblood of the community. I remember the people of our society constantly watching, worrying, and praying over the rain, irrigation rights, and water in general. Sometimes my children chide me; they say they never knew someone so preoccupied with rain. I tell them I suppose that’s true because where I grew up the rain was more than a preoccupation. It was a matter of survival!
Under the stress and strain of our climate, sometimes people weren’t always at their best. Occasionally, neighbors would squabble over one farmer taking too long a turn from the irrigation ditch. That’s how it started with two men who lived near our mountain pasture, whom I will call Chet and Walt. These two neighbors began to quarrel over water from the irrigation ditch they shared. It was innocent enough at first, but over the years the two men allowed their disagreements to turn into resentment and then arguments—even to the point of threats.
One July morning both men felt they were once again short of water. Each went to the ditch to see what had happened, each in his own mind reckoning the other had stolen his water. They arrived at the headgate at the same time. Angry words were exchanged; a scuffle ensued. Walt was a large man with great strength. Chet was small, wiry, and tenacious. In the heat of the scuffle, the shovels the men were carrying were used as weapons. Walt accidentally struck one of Chet’s eyes with the shovel, leaving him blind in that eye.
Months and years passed, yet Chet could not forget nor forgive. The anger that he felt over losing his eye boiled inside him, and his hatred grew more intense. One day, Chet went to his barn, took down the gun from its rack, got on his horse, and rode down to the headgate of the ditch. He put a dam in the ditch and diverted the water away from Walt’s farm, knowing that Walt would soon come to see what had happened. Then Chet slipped into the brush and waited. When Walt appeared, Chet shot him dead. Then he got on his horse, went back to his home, and called the sheriff to inform him that he had just shot Walt.
My father was asked to be on the jury that tried Chet for murder. Father disqualified himself because he was a longtime friend of both men and their families. Chet was tried and convicted of murder and sentenced to life in prison.
After many years, Chet’s wife came to my father and asked if he would sign a petition to the governor, asking for clemency for her husband, whose health was now broken after serving so many years in the state penitentiary. Father signed the petition. A few nights later, two of Walt’s grown sons appeared at our door. They were very angry and upset. They said that because Father had signed the petition, many others had signed. They asked Father to have his name withdrawn from the petition. He said no. He felt that Chet was a broken and sick man. He had suffered these many years in prison for that terrible crime of passion. He wanted to see Chet have a decent funeral and burial beside his family.
Walt’s sons whirled in anger and said, “If he is released from prison, we will see that harm comes to him and his family.”
Chet was eventually released and allowed to come home to die with his family. Fortunately, there was no further violence between the families. My father often lamented how tragic it was that Chet and Walt, these two neighbors and boyhood friends, had fallen captive to their anger and let it destroy their lives. How tragic that the passion of the moment was allowed to escalate out of control—eventually taking the lives of both men—simply because two men could not forgive each other over a few shares of irrigation water.

At the age of 16, Judy Potter’s hobby, letters to pen pals throughout the world, brought something quite unique to her home in Coventry, England.

“I had pen friends in many faraway places, like Trinidad, Australia, and Hong Kong,” says Judy, “but the country which fascinated me most was America. When the International Friendship Association sent me the name of Tammi Fawcett (now Gilson) from Utah, I was thrilled.”

Judy soon found out Tammi was a Latter-day Saint. “My curiosity was roused,” Judy admits, “and I asked plenty of questions. She always had plenty of answers.”

But the most exciting event for Judy was a gift Tammi sent—a one year’s subscription to the New Era.

“I was absorbed from the first copy,” Judy says. “In fact, I’ve never stopped renewing that subscription. I was having all sorts of problems in my life, and every story, or article, seemed just for me.”

She smiled, adding, “Like adjustment into the adult world after leaving school that year. I felt so small and helpless. The New Era helped me realise each person is unique, with a definite purpose in life.”

One day she was reading about an activity called Mutual. “I immediately wrote asking Tammi what it meant,” Judy continues. “As soon as her reply came, I telephoned the Coventry Chapel to ask more. The custodian invited me down that night. Much to my own surprise (for I was terribly shy then), I agreed to go.”

Judy describes her introduction to the Church with peaceful satisfaction. “It was such a special feeling,” she says, “like fitting exactly. I’d been brought up to believe that the Church of England was a good place to go, but was never encouraged to attend, so my desire for religion always hovered below the surface.”

Judy was so touched by the welcome and love received from Coventry Ward members, young and old alike, that her confidence rose and progress flourished.

After three months of lessons from sister missionaries, she was baptised. One month later, her parents too entered the waters of baptism.

When Judy wrote to Utah, telling Tammi of her new happiness, rejoicing spread from one side of the Atlantic to the other.

When we consistently study the scriptures, it can change not only our perspective, but also the way we deal with problems. At the end of an especially tiring day, Susan Wyman of Canton, Georgia, was preparing dinner while balancing her baby on her hip and trying to entertain her active three-year-old. In the midst of the confusion, her toddler pulled a carton off the counter, splattering eggs all over the newly scrubbed floor. Sister Wyman says her normal reaction would have been anger—but this time she noticed the shock and remorse on her son’s face. She knew that he had not made the mess intentionally. She was able to calmly clean up and cope with his awkward attempts to help.
“Even as I did this,” she remembers, “I wondered where my patience had come from. The Spirit let me know that it was because I had risen that morning and studied the scriptures.”

As early Saints reached Utah, President Brigham Young issued calls to some of them to serve missions to many nations of the world, to others to colonize areas outside the Salt Lake Valley. George Careless was prepared to accept any call he received.
“Brother George,” President Young said, “I have a mission for you. … I want you to take the Tabernacle Choir … and lay a foundation for good music in Utah.” Brother Careless accepted the call.
Born in London on September 24, 1839, George displayed musical talent early in life. His father, a woodcarver, berated his son for “wasting time” with music and told him to learn a trade. George went to work in a shoemaking company, but his heart wasn’t in it. The plant foreman, a music lover who collected violins, loaned him one of them, and George soon learned to play it.
When he was ten years old, he was offered a place in a London choir school, where boys earned their academic and musical education by singing in a church or cathedral. It was a wonderful opportunity, but George turned it down. He had recently joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and was eager to participate fully in it.
George’s father never accepted his devotion to music and told him to either give it up or leave the family. So when he was thirteen, George left home.
Later, the shoe factory foreman loaned George the money to attend the Royal Academy of Music. After graduating in three years rather than the usual four, he was hired as a member of an orchestra that gave concerts in the Crystal Palace, England’s showplace for the arts. With his first earnings, he repaid the foreman.
At the same time, George worked to improve the musical activities of the Church in England. He directed a London Conference choir, earning it such a high reputation that it was invited to perform at several of London’s leading concert halls.
His career was progressing so well that Elder William C. Staines encouraged him to move to Utah before he became so famous that it would be almost impossible to leave those who went to hear him. Six weeks later, George sailed for America. On his ship, the Hudson, he led a choir composed of Saints who were immigrating to Utah. He arrived in New York City on July 19, 1864. From there he suffered illness and hunger much of the rest of the way.
Arriving in the Salt Lake Valley, George was given the depressing news that the few professional musicians already there were unable to make a living with their music. Even so, he was determined to teach music even if he starved. By the end of the next month, he had twenty-four paying pupils. The going rate for a series of lessons in the Salt Lake Valley was a hundred pounds of flour.
When President Young called him to his musical mission, George replied, “I will do the best I can with the material I can get.”
The prophet responded, “You will have to make that.”
Organizing a choir in the rough conditions of frontier living took determination and grit as well as talent. At his first rehearsal of the choir, only forty members were present. The Tabernacle, still under construction, had no heating or lighting. Choir members held a candle in one hand, their music in the other.
On October 8, 1873, the Salt Lake Tabernacle Choir joined with choirs from fourteen surrounding communities to perform at General Conference. Some of the choirs had to travel several days to reach Salt Lake City.
When Brigham Young died in 1877, George assembled a 220-member choir to perform a hymn he composed for the funeral.
After serving eleven years as director of the Tabernacle Choir, George resigned his post in 1880. His mission was to continue, though, when President John Taylor asked him to head a committee to write music for all the hymns to be included in The Latter-day Saints’ Psalmody, published in 1889. The Psalmody contained 330 hymns, three-fourths of them set to music by Mormon composers. One of Brother Careless’s compositions is the well-known sacrament hymn “He Died! The Great Redeemer Died.”
George Careless fulfilled his mission to lay a foundation for good music, not just in Utah but in the whole Church.

I was born in Armenia when it was part of the Soviet Union. My parents taught me and my two siblings to be honest, good, and morally clean, and they did everything to give us a good education. But one of the first things I learned in kindergarten was a philosophy that religion is the opium of the people. And until I was 12 years old, I never knew there was a God.
When I was 12, a terrible earthquake destroyed 90 percent of my hometown, killing more than 50,000 people. I was in school when the noise became louder and louder, and everything around us began to shake. I was pulled into the crowd, trying to escape the building. Amid all the confusion, I suddenly realized I might never see my family again. In that moment, I saw a red knit scarf my mother had made for me hanging in a large hallway to the right of the stairwell. Following an impression, I broke from the crowd and went to retrieve the scarf. In that instant the ground shook for the third and last time, and I witnessed the stairwell collapse with all my friends in its ruins. Upon regaining my senses, I found that the whole school was a huge mass of rubble—with the exception of that tiny area housing me and my red knit scarf.
My entire family of five survived. When my father saw my mom, my eight-month-old sister, my seven-year-old brother, and me sitting in the middle of the street after seven hours of searching for us, the only thing he said was, “Blessed be Thy name, God.” I had lost my home, but for the first time I heard the name of God.

Kent Madrian is carefully maneuvering his six-foot-six-inch body and an old Kirby vacuum cleaner over grandma’s best rug. Grandma is keeping a watchful eye on her furniture.
Bump. Kent runs into the easy chair and starts to go around it.
“You’ve got to move the chair,” Grandma says. “To get underneath.”
“I know, Grandma.”
After a few more turns around the floor Kent hits the switch and the machine’s rumble dies. “What do you want for dinner, Grandma?” Kent asks.
In case you haven’t noticed, there is something unusual about this scene—grandparents usually take care of grandchildren, not the other way around. But in this house, things have changed for a while. For four months Kent has been living with his grandparents, helping them out when they couldn’t take care of themselves.
Then in January Kent’s grandma hurt her arm and wasn’t able to do normal tasks around her house. Grandpa had been confined to a wheelchair and was also unable to help.
Though preparing to leave on a mission to Italy in April, Kent moved in. “My grandparents had always been there for me, so I saw it as an opportunity to pay a small part back,” he says.
Kent moved in with the idea he would be cleaning, cooking, shopping—and he did all those things. But ask him about peeling potatoes or making breakfast and he’ll change the subject. He’d rather tell you what Grandma and Grandpa taught him.
“Grandma got me ready for my mission in a lot of ways,” he says. “She taught me how to iron and cook, but more importantly she helped me spiritually. I had a lot of time to read in the scriptures and I talked to her about what I was reading.
“Grandma taught me a lot of the gospel is learning to think about the other guy,” says Kent. “And that’s how you find yourself, by serving others.”
So, he says he came away a better person by just being around Ruby and Delos. Then again, he was a pretty decent guy to start. Let Grandma Ruby give you an example. “At first, Kent slept in a sleeping bag at the foot of Grandpa’s bed. Kent wanted to be there if Delos needed to get up in the night. After a few nights I made Kent sleep in another room because his back was hurting.”
Or Ruby will tell you how Delos enjoyed watching baseball games on television. Delos and Ruby couldn’t afford cable service so Kent dipped into his college savings to pay for a sports channel so Delos could watch Cincinnati Reds’ games.
But as close as the three got in those months, Kent faced the same challenges most young people do in relating to older people. When asked if he had to listen to the same story more than once, Kent flashed a gee-whiz grin and nodded. “I’d hear the same story like six times over. I’d just be nice and listen.”
That, however, was a small price to pay. Kent now believes he knows his grandparents.
“I have always loved them,” says Kent, “but I guess I never really understood them. I think I do now. They are just like all of us. They have the same needs. The only difference is they have a lifetime of experiences to tell you about. If you get to know them, they can be some of the best friends you have.”
Kent has now left on his mission, but the memories he has of those last months with his grandparents cannot be erased. “It was hard leaving when you know you’re needed,” he says. “But I’m needed in Italy too. They understand that.”

A few months ago, Sister Luthy and I returned from serving in the Helsinki Finland Temple. Our time there was a highlight in our lives. Since returning home we have had occasion to share some of our experiences with friends. One of the stories that Sister Luthy likes to relate concerns an impressive Russian couple who came to the temple to be sealed. The wife had been a high government official in Kazakstan and the husband had been a high-ranking officer in the Soviet Military. They had found the Church through the good example of an America businessman who is now a General Authority Seventy, Elder Pieper. The Russian brother told us that during his early years in the military, he had received harassment because he had Jewish-sounding name, so he decided to change it. Not having a knowledge of the Old Testament, he chose a name that he thought would free him from the Jewish connection. The name he chose was Solomon. Apparently no one seemed to recognize the irony, so he kept it.
Brother Solomon was able to attend General Conference some time ago and after attending the Priesthood Session, he lamented, "If only I had known about this earlier in my life, I could have raised sons in the Priesthood." If he were to visit this university today, I think he would have a similar lament about how he wished his children could have attended BYU. He would recognize how blessed you are to have the Gospel and to be here. But like every new convert in the Church, he now begins to build his own legacy, and to record his own history from which future generations will benefit. In years to come, I believe others will read about his experiences and his faithfulness, and it will help them.

Experience 1: While attending BYU-Idaho shortly after my mission, one of my friends from high school was killed in an airplane crash. As I walked through the Manwaring Center shortly after learning of the accident, I happened to see another friend, the younger brother of the one who had died. As I approached him to express my sympathy and condolences, I struggled to control my emotions. Seeing this, my friend simply smiled and said, “It’s okay,” and wrapped me in a bear hug. In an effort to express compassion, I was in turn touched by the heroic compassion of my friend who saw beyond his own greater pain and comforted me in mine. He didn’t have to, but he did anyway, and it made a difference.

One day while studying the scriptures, I felt impressed to share my testimony at the upcoming fast and testimony meeting. I’d thought about doing it before, but I hadn’t since I was really young.
When fast Sunday came, I passed the sacrament and felt the impression even stronger than before. I knew it was the Spirit telling me to bear my testimony. But then thoughts began flowing into my mind, like “You’re too nervous,” “You can do it next month,” and “What will people think of you?”
I was about to give in to my doubts and remain seated when my uncle handed me a small piece of paper and whispered, “This is from your aunt.”
Written on the paper was the one-word question “Testimony?” I immediately decided to do it. When I spoke, I wasn’t even nervous because I felt the Spirit so strongly. I was also happier and felt more grateful after I went up. The Spirit really does work through other people to help us.

Brother William and Sister Johanna Buckley are converts to the Church and live on the island of Aruba. Years ago, when they were investigating the Church, they became friends with Sister Ana St. Cyr and her four-year-old grandson, Ralph, who attended the Oranjestad, Aruba branch. These two were the only members of the Church in their family and the only Haitian members of the branch. As the Buckleys integrated into the branch they found special joy in watching young Ralph’s testimony and spirituality develop.
In John 4:13–14, Jesus says to the Samarian woman at the well, “Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again:
“But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.”
It was apparent that Sister St. Cyr and little Ralph had allowed those everlasting waters to spring up within them.
Like the Samarian women who went off to share the good news, Ralph did the same. In 2018, Ralph Desir was called to serve in the Vanuatu Port Vila Mission where he had the opportunity to share the everlasting waters of the Savior, Jesus Christ. He was blessed with many companions from diverse cultures, lived in eight different places, and learned Bislama, the native language of Vanuatu, which helped him to effectively create relationships with the people.
Elder Desir was blessed to see the gospel of Jesus Christ strengthen the people he taught as they overcame the challenges in their lives. Upon completion of his mission, he testifies of the truthfulness of the power of everlasting waters and knows how to allow those waters to continue to bless his own life and the lives of others.
Brother Desir testifies that “serving a mission was the best decision that I have made in my life. I have learned to be like the Savior and teach the gospel by example in all things. I love the gospel with all my heart, and I wouldn’t exchange my mission experiences for anything. One of the reasons I served a mission was because I knew how much it would bless my family and how much joy it would bring to my own life.”
Since returning from his mission, Brother Desir has served as first counselor in the San Nicolas Branch presidency, Aruba, and as a delegation leader for the Aruba, Bonaire, Curacao District that attended the youth conference in the Dominican Republic in 2022. He is now serving as branch secretary. He uses his proficiency in the Dutch, Spanish, English, Papiamento, and French Creole languages to continue to bless lives in Aruba and elsewhere.
Brother and Sister Buckley have followed Brother Desir’s example and are now serving in the ABC district as church communication directors. They continue to enjoy watching him grow and share the gospel.

Picture with me a little six-year-old orphan girl traveling across the plains of America. Her name is Elsie Ann. Her mother died when she was two. Her father remarried, and so for a time she had a stepmother. Then her father died at Winter Quarters when she was five. Her stepmother remarried and moved away, leaving this little orphan behind with Peter and Selina Robison, who were related to her stepmother. Elsie Ann left Winter Quarters with the Robisons in July of 1849 to come west. She no doubt ached for the love of her own mother. Sometimes she would even ask, “Where is my mother?” Elsie Ann was my great-grandmother.

My friend Arnaldo and I both served missions for the Church, but after our missions, I was less active in the Church for almost 10 years. Arnaldo paid for my subscription to the Liahona (Spanish) year after year. His faith has been rewarded. I am again active, have a calling, and have had the blessing of returning to the temple, thanks to Arnaldo and the Liahona.
Alberto Tejada ChacónHunter Ward, Arequipa Peru Central Stake

Andrea has learned in her Young Women classes how important it is to “stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places” (Mosiah 18:9; see also this year’s Mutual theme, 1 Timothy 4:12). Recently, she invited a friend to a Church activity who previously didn’t think very highly of the Church. “She thought the activity was really cool. She was really interested in the Church and asked a lot of questions,” says Andrea.
Her friends on the track team know her standards, too. “We have a lot of movie nights, and they know I always have to make sure what we’re watching is appropriate,” she says. “If they are watching something I wouldn’t watch and I walk in the room, they change it really quick. That’s really nice.”
She credits her older sister for paving the way with some of her teammates. Her sister ran for their high school the year before Andrea started running, and she also made her standards clear. In fact, all five of her brothers and sisters have been runners. She looks up to them on and off the track.
“They’re amazing. They’ve all been great examples. They’re always doing the right thing, and they make sure I’m doing the right thing,” she says.
Her family has done a lot to set the pace for her, but being the youngest has also provided her with opportunities to be an example for them. “She always sets a good example. My children always seem to want to do what Andrea’s doing,” says her oldest sister, Christine.
But being looked up to or talked about isn’t really what motivates Andrea. When people mention her giving up the medal, she doesn’t break stride: “I don’t want to be the center of attention.” That’s Andrea. Like the eight other runners who followed her example, she’s just glad she could do the right thing when the moment presented itself.
Sometimes standing as a witness of God can happen in unexpected ways. For Andrea, it meant stepping up by stepping down.

A wonderful sister who performed an Elias-like mission to her people in Ghana was Priscilla Sampson-Davis. She obtained a Book of Mormon in 1963, then studied, prepared, and waited for 15 years. Soon after her baptism she had a vision that she described as follows:

I wasn’t asleep. I saw myself at a sacrament meeting and we were singing when I saw a personage in very bright apparel standing in front of the congregation. The Personage called me by name and requested that I come and stand by Him. . . . He then asked me why some were not singing with the others. I told him that they could not read English. . . . He asked me if I wouldn’t like to help my sisters and brothers sing praises to our Heavenly Father. I said that I would do my best. Then the vision passed away.
Immediately I . . . started translating the hymn Redeemer of Israel into Fanti [the major dialect in Ghana]. [From interview with Priscilla Sampson-Davis by E. Dale LeBaron in Cape Coast, Ghana, 19 May 1988; see also LeBaron, “All Are Alike,” pp. 48–50]

Sister Sampson-Davis translated the hymns, the missionary pamphlets, and Gospel Principles. Then, under assignment, she translated the Book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants, and the Pearl of Great Price into Fanti. She said, “It was the Lord Himself who commissioned me to do the translation. . . . By translating these things, my brothers and sisters who can’t understand English will be able to see and read the true gospel for themselves” (LeBaron, “All Are Alike,” pp. 49–50).

One summer I reached the conclusion I was too old and too cool for family vacations. “No way,” I said when my parents suggested we begin planning our annual outing. “I have to work.” Like the local burger place couldn’t function without my eight hours a week.

For 16 years my family had taken summer vacations together. Even when money was tight we hitched up the tent trailer and rambled somewhere. I think Mom and Dad knew that if they got me in the station wagon, and out onto the highway, I’d soften and remember the good times. They suggested I give the family vacation one last try, and after much complaining I finally consented and got the time off work. A few days later we pulled into the freeway traffic and in a moment all that was good about our trips came back to me. Somewhere down the road, through many years of trips, we had learned how to make a vacation fun.

Though I can’t even remember where we went during our 16th summer vacation, I can vividly recall the feeling of closeness we all shared. That trip actually helped me overcome the irrational fear of being seen with my family. Once the station wagon started rolling, the people I sat with and the things we did together made me forget about appearances. And after a while I realized my family were all pretty cool themselves.