Gospel Story Finder

Several years ago I attended a BYU football game with some of our young children. We lost the game. I really hate it when that happens. We listened to the coaches’ show on the ride back to our home in Bountiful. When it was over, my children had no alternative but to listen to my own postgame show. Just as I had completed my final analysis of what went wrong in the game, my seven-year-old daughter asked, “Dad, when you see the temple, do you get a good feeling inside?” I wondered, “Where in the world did that come from?” As I was trying to figure out what that comment had to do with the football game, I glanced over at her and could see she was looking out the window at the Salt Lake Temple. For some reason the game no longer mattered.

Faith Nwaulu came back from her mission looking forward to a good life. She knew what she wanted, to be trained as a midwife. The only constraint that she had to achieve her dreams was funds required to take the training. When she participated in the returned missionary orientation program, she learned about the PEF loan and knew that was the resource to help her achieve her dreams. She applied for and received the loan to attend St. Philomena Hospital to be trained as a midwife. She has now graduated and is employed in the same hospital where she received her training. She is also happily married.

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?

Z. Majigsuren lives in a small apartment in Darkhan, Mongolia, with her husband, two teenage daughters, and several members of her extended family: Her daughter and son-in-law and their young daughter also live there. So too does a son with his wife and their baby. Majigsuren’s son-in-law, A. Soronzonbold, is president of the Darkhan district. Her son, Kh. Sergelen, is first counselor in the presidency of the Darkhan Second Branch. And Majigsuren is first counselor in the branch Relief Society presidency.

Missionaries first came to Darkhan in 1996, and she was baptized and confirmed in 1997, one of the pioneer members in the city.

“I am very grateful that all of my children are members of the Church,” she says. Majigsuren remembers the fruit of the tree of life that Lehi saw in vision (see 1 Nephi 8). “I wanted to partake of that fruit and return to my Heavenly Father.” She wanted her children to partake also. She is grateful that two of them have now been sealed to their spouses in the Hong Kong China Temple: her daughter, K. Selenge, who is married to Soronzonbold, and Sergelen with his wife, T. Altantuya.

Members, she says, “need to come to church, they need to pray, and they need to keep the faith. The most important is faith,” because without that, they will not do the others.

Photograph courtesy of Dani K.
Many teens in rock bands would probably tell you that playing rock ’n’ roll is its own reward. Beyond that, they probably don’t feel they really need a reason for doing it. Well, when six friends in Colorado, USA, formed a band together (Dani K., Jake G., Joey B., Matt N., Michael B., and Scott L.), they set higher goals, and because of that, they also had greater rewards.
For one thing, they wanted their music to lift rather than degrade. “We know that there’s a lot of filth we could be playing,” says Michael, “but we choose only songs that are clean and uplifting.” And Jake adds, “The music we’ve written is uplifting and clean (not to mention catchy and fun!), inspiring people to build their talents in a manner that will bring others unto Christ.”
In addition, they wanted their band’s behavior to make an impression—in a good way. “I remember when we walked through the studio doors the first day of recording,” recalls Dani, “and our producer was shocked that we were on time, awake, and sober.”
Matt adds, “We have covenanted with God to stand as a witness of Him at all times. We have been given wonderful gifts and opportunities, and I want to use them to share the message of the Savior with the world.”
The band has also been able to fulfill their goal of serving others in a variety of ways. For instance, they have performed at firesides and other Church events, and they have performed for the sick and injured, both in small, intimate settings and at big fundraising events for large organizations. One of those organizations is special to the band, since it helps those with type 1 juvenile diabetes, a disease that Jake has had since age four and that Dani was diagnosed with two years after joining the band.
“Our band friends are aware of our medical needs and help us endure the trials we face with the disease,” says Jake. “The band has been such a blessing to us and strengthened our friendship.”
Their friendship has extended beyond the band experience as well. They’ve been together at Eagle Scout projects and other major milestones in each other’s lives. And their friendship will continue even after they go their separate ways for missions and college.
“My fantastic friends in this band have helped me to live the gospel,” says Joey. “This band has given me strength to overcome temptation. I have a testimony of the power and influence that good friends can have.”
And Scott believes that their band “is proof that living the gospel can be done anywhere. That is a great comfort to me.”

Five years ago, I became actively involved as a consultant with the Norwegian Public Broadcasting Television. They were producing a historical documentary about my grandfather Capt. Reinert Godfred Jonassen whose ship Gyda was destroyed around 1897 by a major cyclone that struck in the area of Tahiti. There is more to the story, but basically Capt. Jonassen never returned to Norway. Instead, he ended up on Aitutaki Island where he remarried and had three children from his wife Ti'avaru, including my father and his two sisters.

The children were all under the age of 10, when they lost their father Reinert in a tragic accident. Ever since, they cherished a desire to visit their Scandinavian homeland and meet the extended family. My involvement with the Norwegian documentary became a wonderful opportunity to heal relationships and fulfill the dream of my aging father, Michael, and his sister Josephine, who, at ages 90 and 88, respectively, still had never seen Norway, the land of their father. Unfortunately by then, their older sister Anne had passed away.

The opportunity finally arrived. Michael and his sister Josephine were invited to Norway for the public showing of the documentary on their father. I was also invited to accompany them as their bag-carrier. Aunty Josephine looked quite ill before our journey to Norway even began. Suspecting her condition, I suggested we postpone the visit to Norway. She raised her voice at me for the first time in my life saying, "Son, I have waited 88 years for this, so I am going no matter what. The Lord knows my heart."

At her request, I gave her a priesthood blessing two times a day for the whole period we were on the road, almost two weeks. Her testimony of the gospel was absolutely amazing. Keep in mind that the journey from Aitutaki took us through the Pacific, across the United States, over the Atlantic and then across the Scandinavian countries to Norway. Her doctor in Auckland, New Zealand, was surprised that she was still walking when she returned. She had, in fact, a very advanced life threatening pneumonia during the entire journey. It was her strong faith that sustained her and enabled her to engage and endure.

I thought discovering the family home in Norway and watching my father and his sister's emotional visit would be the major highlight in my life.

While recently involved in a stake youth music festival about family history, I was invited to find a story about a living relative or an ancestor. At first I wasn’t excited about the assignment. I’d always assumed I would work on family history when I was older. But I decided to start by emailing my grandparents to see if they had any interesting family stories.
After emailing, I called to schedule a time to interview my grandpa. We decided to meet at a restaurant for dinner. There, my grandfather told me childhood memories and a special story about being sealed to his family in the Salt Lake Temple when he was seven years old.
I’ve heard other people tell incredible tales about their ancestors, and I wanted an amazing story too. But as I learned more about my family, I discovered that dramatic stories don’t make up all of our family history. Most of our genealogy is full of everyday people who had incredible faith.
I really enjoyed interviewing my grandpa, but afterward I thought of ways I could have done things better.
First, we were in a noisy restaurant, and that was fine while Grandpa spoke of his childhood. But it didn’t provide the right atmosphere for his sacred story. I wish I’d had a quieter place to listen.
Second, I became so enthralled with his stories that I often forgot to take notes. I wish I’d recorded the interview so I could listen to the story and make sure no information was lost.
Finally, I learned the importance of asking more specific questions. Instead of asking, “What are some of your favorite childhood memories?” I could have asked, “What was your favorite Christmas tradition as a child?” or, “Do you remember a time when your testimony first began to grow?”
I still don’t know everything about my grandfather, but through interviewing him, I discovered life-changing events in his life and became closer to him. I’m grateful for the experience I had and look forward to interviewing him again, along with other relatives.

For a girl who directs high school plays, sews costumes, memorizes Shakespeare, studies Russian, and performs on her school’s dance team, it’s a wonder she finds time to do anything else—especially take care of her diabetes. Adrienne was diagnosed with diabetes when she was 11, but she hasn’t let that get her down.
“There’s really no point in being sad about it,” Adrienne says, “because it’s not going to change it. You might as well make the best of the situation and do things a normal kid would do.” She makes sure to take care of herself physically and spiritually. She tries to do constructive things that make her happy. “If you do all you can, pray, and have faith in Heavenly Father,” she says, “then He’ll help you accomplish the rest.”
Adrienne has been a resource to many around her. Before moving to Utah, she was asked to teach a class on diabetes at a science museum in Minnesota. “It’s fun being able to bring something exciting out of a trial like this,” she says.
She’s also discovered that the gospel is a strength. “The Savior went through a lot more than I did. And I know that He always understands. You try your hardest, and if that’s all you can do, then don’t stress.”

Years ago, as a young missionary, I was assigned to a group of seventeen small islands in the South Pacific. At that time, the only means of travel between islands was by sailboat. Because of misunderstandings and traditions, it was difficult to find people willing to listen to us. However, one day a member told us that if we would be at a certain harbor on a particular island when the sun set the next day, a family would meet us there and listen to the discussions.
What joy that news brought! It was like finding a piece of gold. I was working alone at the time but quickly found four other members who were experienced sailors who agreed to take me to this island the next day.
Early the next morning the five of us started out. There was a nice breeze that moved us swiftly along the coast, through the opening in the reef, and out into the wide expanse of the vast Pacific Ocean.
We made good progress for a few hours, but as the sun climbed higher and the boat got farther from land, the wind began to play out and soon quit altogether, leaving us bobbing aimlessly on a smooth ocean.
Those familiar with sailing know that to get anywhere, you need wind. Sometimes there are good breezes without storms and heavy seas, but often they go together. Sailors do not fear storms, for they contain the lifeblood of sailing—wind. What sailors fear is no wind, or being becalmed.
Time passed. The sun got higher, the sea calmer. Nothing moved. We soon realized that unless something changed, we would not arrive by sundown. I suggested that we pray and plead with the Lord to send some wind. What more righteous desire could a group of men have? I offered a prayer. When I finished, things seemed calmer than ever. We continued drifting.
Then one of the older men suggested that everyone kneel and all unite their faith and prayers together, which we did. There was great struggling of spirit, but when the last person opened his eyes, nothing! No movement at all. The sails hung limp and listless. Even the slight ripple of the ocean against the side of the boat had ceased. The ocean seemed like a sea of glass.
Time was moving, and we were getting desperate. This same man now suggested that everyone kneel again in prayer and each person in turn offer a vocal prayer for the whole group. Many beautiful, pleading, faithful prayers ascended to heaven. But when the last one finished and everyone opened their eyes, the sun was still burning down with greater intensity than before. The ocean was like a giant mirror. It was almost as though Satan was laughing, saying, “See, you can’t go anywhere. There is no wind. You are in my power.”
I thought, “There is a family at the harbor that wants to hear the gospel. We are here in the middle of the ocean and want to teach them. The Lord controls the elements. All that stands between us and the family is a little wind. Why won’t He send it? It’s a righteous desire.”
As I was so wondering, I noticed this faithful older brother move to the rear of the boat. I watched as he unlashed the tiny lifeboat, placed two oars with pins in their places, and carefully lowered it over the side.
He looked at me and softly said, “Get in.”
I answered, “What are you doing? There is hardly room for two people in that tiny thing!”
“Don’t waste any time or effort. Just get in. I am going to row you to shore, and we need to leave now to make it by sundown.”
I looked at him incredulously, “Row me where?”
“To the family that wants to hear the gospel. We have an assignment from the Lord. Get in.”
I was dumbfounded. It was miles to shore. The sun was hot, and this man was old. But as I looked into the face of that faithful brother, I sensed an intensity in his gaze, an iron will in his very being, and a fixed determination in his voice as he said, “Before the sun sets this day, you will be teaching the gospel and bearing testimony to a family who wants to listen.”
I again objected, “Look, you’re over three times my age. If this is to be, let me row.”
With that same look of determination and faith-induced will, the old man replied, “No. Leave it to me. Get in the boat. Don’t waste more time talking. Let’s go!” At his direction we got into the boat, with me in the front and the old man in the middle, his feet stretching to the end of the boat, his back to me.
The glazed surface of the ocean was disturbed by the intrusion of this small boat and seemed to complain, “This is my territory. Stay out.” Not a wisp of air stirred, not a sound was heard except the creaking of oars and the rattling of pins as the small craft began to move away from the sailboat.
The old man bent his back and began to row. Dip. Pull. Lift. Dip. Pull. Lift. Each dip of the oar seemed to break the resolve of the mirrorlike ocean. Each pull of the oar moved the tiny skiff forward, separating the glassy seas to make way for the Lord’s messenger. Dip. Pull. Lift. The old man did not look up, rest, or talk, but hour after hour he rowed and rowed and rowed. The muscles of his back and arms, strengthened by faith and moved by unalterable determination, flexed in a marvelous cadence like a fine-tuned watch. It was beautiful. We moved quietly, relentlessly toward an inevitable destiny. The old man concentrated his efforts and energy on fulfilling the calling he had from the Lord—to get a missionary to a family that wanted to hear the gospel. He was the Lord’s wind that day.
Just as the sun dipped into the ocean, the skiff touched the shore of the harbor. A family was waiting. The old man spoke for the first time in hours and said, “Go. Teach them the truth. I’ll wait here.”
I waded ashore, met the family, went to their home, and taught them the gospel. As I bore testimony of the power of God in this church, my mind saw an old Tongan man rowing to a distant harbor and waiting patiently there. I testified with a fervor as great as any I have ever felt that God does give power to men and women to do His will if they will have faith in Him. I told the family, “When we exercise faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, we can do things we could not otherwise do. When our hearts are determined to do right, the Lord gives us the power to do so.”
The family believed and eventually was baptized.
In the annals of history, few will be aware of this small incident. Hardly anyone will know about this insignificant island, the family who waited, or the obscure, old man who never once complained of fatigue, aching arms, painful back, or a hurting body. He never talked about thirst, the scorching sun, or the heat of the day as he relentlessly rowed uncomplainingly hour after hour. He referred only to the privilege of being God’s agent in bringing a missionary to teach the truth to those who desired to hear. But God knows! He gave him the strength to be His wind that day, and He will give us the strength to be His wind when necessary.

Martin Harris. When the body of the Saints went west, Martin Harris remained in Ohio and continued his relationship with members of the unstable Kirtland branch. He was affiliated with several off shoots of the church but he was never satisfied with these counterfeits to the true gospel. He was rebaptized in 1842 by Nauvoo missionaries. Martin always contended that the church left him when the body of the saints departed from Ohio, and his second wife left him and immigrated to Utah. Prior to Martin’s own immigration to Utah in the last years of his life, missionaries and other members traveling east would stop in to see the aging Book of Mormon witness in Ohio. David B. Dille traveling to England stopped by to visit the ailing and aged Martin in the 72nd year of his life. He relates that when Martin bore his testimony it seemed to reinvigorate his weak frame. He then insisted on getting dressed and spending the rest of the day recounting the wonders of the restoration. Elder Dille stated the missionary spirit was very strong in BrotherHarris.

Martin proclaimed during their meeting, “Just let me go with you to England. You do the preaching, and I will bear testimony of the Book of Mormon, and we will convert all of England.”...

I recall an experience from pilot training in World War II. Air cadets were posted to colleges for ground training. We were assigned to Washington State University at Pullman. Eight of us who had never met were assigned to the same room. The first evening we introduced ourselves.
The first to speak was from a wealthy family in the East. He described the private schools he had attended. He said that each summer their family had “gone on the Continent.” I had no way of knowing that meant they had traveled to Europe.
The father of the next had been governor of Ohio and at that time was in the president’s cabinet.
And so it went. I was younger than most, and it was my first time away from home. Each had attended college, I had not. In fact, there was nothing to distinguish me at all.
When finally I got the courage to speak, I said, “I come from a little town in Utah that you have never heard of. I come from a large family, eleven children. My father is a mechanic and runs a little garage.”
I said that my great-grandfather had joined the Church and come west with the pioneers.
To my surprise and relief, I was accepted. My faith and my obscurity were not a penalty.
From then until now I have never felt uncomfortable among people of wealth or achievement, of high station or of low. Nor have I been ashamed of my heritage or of the Church, or felt the need to apologize for any of its doctrines, even those I could not defend to the satisfaction of everyone who might ask.

When I was younger, I made a lot of mistakes.
In Uruguay, I wasn’t surrounded by many spiritual people or places, so I stepped off the covenant path and looked for happiness elsewhere. But one day, I thought about the choices I was making. I realized the happiness I was experiencing was fleeting—I had always experienced greater joy when I was striving to follow Jesus Christ.
I wanted to change.
I told Heavenly Father that I was sorry for my sins. But I soon became discouraged when the changes I was trying to make didn’t come as fast as I wanted them to. Then I remembered President Russell M. Nelson’s invitation to “discover the joy of daily repentance.”
I had never focused on daily repentance before, but I decided to try to learn more about it.
When I first started repenting daily, I wasn’t sure what the point of it was. I would repent of my sins, but often, the next day I would make the same mistake again. I wondered, “Why should I repent if I can’t change my bad habits immediately?”
I went to Heavenly Father and told Him my concerns and asked why He wants us to repent every day. I felt the Spirit communicate to my mind that each time I repent, the Savior gives me a chance to start over. President Nelson also said: “Repenting is the key to progress. Pure faith keeps us moving forward on the covenant path.”
Repenting is not about getting things perfect; it’s about continuous reliance on Christ to change our natures over time! I realized that even if I make the same mistakes, when I sincerely repent of my sins and try to change, He will help me progress little by little.
Sister Kristin M. Yee, First Counselor in the Relief Society General Presidency, said: “If you are struggling with a situation you think you should have overcome by now, don’t give up. Be patient with yourself, keep your covenants, repent often, seek the help of your leaders if needed, and go to the house of the Lord as regularly as you can. Listen for and heed the promptings He sends you. He will not abandon His covenant relationship with you.”
Another thing that has helped me focus on daily repentance is attending the temple. I love the power that we receive when we make covenants with the Lord, and I have felt that power in my life as I choose to have faith in what Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ can help me do.
By focusing on Them each day and having patience with myself, I have felt my relationship with Them grow stronger. Kneeling and talking to Heavenly Father every night about what I am trying to change and acknowledging His hand in my life has also helped me feel the joy of the gift of the Savior’s Atonement.
There is a certain joy that comes from being made clean by our Savior through recommitting to our covenants and His commandments. Through our efforts to change and our reliance on Him, we can seek His help to break seemingly unbreakable habits, ask for forgiveness, and forgive ourselves.
Sister Yee also reminds us: “Each day is a new day filled with hope and possibilities because of Jesus Christ. Each day you and I can come to know, as Mother Eve proclaimed, ‘the joy of our redemption’ [Moses 5:11], the joy of being made whole, the joy of feeling God’s unfailing love for you.”
I have felt Heavenly Father’s love more than ever with my deepened testimony of daily repentance. Nothing makes me want to keep progressing more than realizing the Savior always extends His hand to me each time I turn to Him for forgiveness and help. I am far from perfect, but I feel my heart change when I start each new day with a desire to learn and do better.
Knowing that we all sin, I am grateful for the Savior’s grace and for the joy that His mercy brings into my life each day.

Shortly after the passing of our beloved President Russell M. Nelson, our BYU academic vice president Justin Collings shared an experience of sitting next to a distinguished leader not of our faith who was visiting Church headquarters from overseas.

After this gentleman had heard President Oaks give some brief remarks, he turned to Vice President Collings and noted how impressed he was with the man who had just spoken.

Vice President Collings started to detail President Oaks’s background and professional accomplishments when this man interjected, as if Justin had missed the point: “No. He has a light. There is a light that shines from him. . . . He has a light that is different from anyone here.”

Vice President Collings then explained to the man that President Oaks had recently become the most senior leader of the Church.

With a look of great satisfaction, the man nodded and said, “Then may God grant him long life, that he may live and shine a light for your people and for the world.”

Christine: As a man and woman get to know one another through continuous dating experiences, qualities and character emerge. As I watched Roger work on his truck one day, I was impressed that he knew some auto mechanics and I was especially awed when I saw how he handled frustration. Because of the auto design on this model a certain area he needed to work on was very difficult to access and therefore it was extremely exasperating. As he made repeated attempts, I could tell he was provoked. His face got red, and his fists clenched, but, he never lost control and he didn't swear. In fact, I think the strongest expletive I've ever heard him say is "rats."

Colonel Thomas L. Kane, a nonmember of the Church, spoke to the Historical Society of Philadelphia, as recorded in the memoirs of John R. Young. He told them that during his travels a few years before, he had passed through a very unusual city named Nauvoo, a community established on the banks of the Mississippi. He explained that after traveling up the river for some time, he left the steamer and began to travel on land because of the rapids in the river.
While on the road, he had seen only unimproved country where idlers and outlaws had settled. Then he saw Nauvoo. Quoting him:
“I was descending the last hillside upon my journey, when a landscape in delightful contrast broke upon my view. Half encircled by a bend of the river, a beautiful city lay glittering in the fresh morning sun. Its bright new dwellings [were] set in cool green gardens ranging up around a stately dome-shaped hill, which was crowned by a noble marble edifice, whose high tapering spire was radiant with white and gold. The city appeared to cover several miles, and beyond it, in the backgrounds, there rolled off a fair country chequered by the careful lines of fruitful husbandry. The unmistakable marks of industry, enterprise and educated wealth everywhere, made the scene one of singular and most striking beauty. … No one met me there. I looked and saw no one. I could hear no one move, though the quiet everywhere was such that I heard the flies buzz and the water ripples break against the shallow beach. I walked through the solitary streets. The town lay as in a dream, under some deadening spell of loneliness, from which I almost feared to wake it, for plainly it had not slept long. There was no grass growing up in the paved ways, rains had not entirely washed away the prints of dusty footsteps, yet I went about unchecked. I went into empty workshops, rope walks and smithies. The spinner’s wheel was idle, the carpenter had gone from his work bench and shavings, his unfinished sash and casings, fresh bark was in the tanner’s vat, and fresh chopped light wood stood piled against the baker’s oven. The blacksmith’s shop was cold; but his coal heap and ladling pool and crooked water horn were all there, as if he had just gone for a holiday. …
“Fields upon fields of heavy headed yellow grain lay rotting. … No one was at hand to take in their rich harvest.” (Memoirs of John R. Young, Utah Pioneer 1847, Salt Lake City: Deseret News, 1920, pp. 31–33.)
Colonel Kane could not understand why such a beautiful city had been abandoned. He was unaware that the Saints had been driven from their city by the mobs. His curiosity caused him to search for the people who had left the city. When he found them, he observed that even though they were suffering and dying from hunger and exposure, they were peaceful and wholesome. Why had such a harmless people been so persecuted?

The assignments given us may be difficult. Years ago I was on a mission in England. One day three or four of the London papers carried reviews of a reprint of an old book, snide and ugly in tone, indicating that the book was a history of the Mormons. [The mission president] said to me, “I want you to go down to the publisher and protest this.” I looked at him and was about to say, “Surely not me.” But I meekly said, “Yes, sir.”

I was frightened. I went to my room and felt something as I think Moses must have felt when the Lord asked him to go and see Pharaoh. I offered a prayer. My stomach was churning as I walked. I found the office of the president and presented my card to the receptionist. She took it and went into the inner office and soon returned to say that the president was too busy to see me. I replied that I had come five thousand miles and that I would wait. Finally he invited me in. He was smoking a long cigar with a look that seemed to say, “Don’t bother me.”

I do not recall what I said after that. Another power seemed to be speaking through me. At first he was defensive. Then he began to soften. He concluded by promising to do something. Within an hour word went out to every book dealer in England to return the books to the publisher. At great expense he printed and tipped in the front of each volume a statement to the effect that the book was not to be considered as history, but only as fiction, and that no offense was intended against the respected Mormon people.

I came to know that when we try in faith to walk in obedience to the requests of the priesthood, the Lord opens the way, even when there appears to be no way. May we place our trust in our Father in Heaven, to go forth with willing hearts, that we may be worthy of His blessings.

We had a wonderful experience as part of our humanitarian projects.
Brother Eric Graffe, who assists us with our projects, told us about a drinking water problem on the island of Tahaa. We quickly set up a video conference with Madame Patricia Amaru, mayor of Tahaa.
To our astonishment, she began with a prayer. We then asked her what their priority needs are. With tears in her eyes, she confided: “You must be the answer to my prayers, because just yesterday we had an urgent problem. And I’m powerless to solve it.”
She went on to explain that the drinking water distribution network is outdated, making it difficult to supply water to a large part of the island.
So we headed off to Tahaa to see what was needed. As water is one of the priorities of humanitarian projects, we decided to put together a dossier that we would submit to the branch president. If successful, this substantial project will bless the lives of over 2,000 people.
Once we had finished visiting the facilities, Madame Amaru regretted leaving us, as she had to attend a meeting “with a young man from your church who is going on a mission”.
It was in fact a vigil during which the future missionary was to open his call letter. We asked her if it’s a member of her family. “No!” she replied. “But I go wherever I’m invited.”
“Then we’ll be delighted to accompany you!”
When we arrived, we found a branch filled with love for this young future missionary who had lost his mother a year earlier. What’s more, he’s the first missionary from this branch . . . in 40 years!
The branch president asked to the mayor and her husband to address a word. They both gave “parent” advice, encouraging him to be obedient and respectful, to remain humble, and especially not to stay there (Salt Lake City Mission) after the mission.
Before we left, we learned that this couple, who are very close to the people of their community, had recently attended the dedication of the meetinghouse. What’s more, during the seven-month construction period, they welcomed the entire branch into their home (not the municipality’s premises, but their own) for Sunday meetings!
It was with hearts overflowing with love and gratitude for such generous and humble people that we set sail again to leave them.
Unquestionably, we declare that our Heavenly Father watches over His children tenderly, that He sent us to Tahaa to serve them, and that the Church is the means by which this might be done.

The Wolfgramms took their Polynesian show on the road and traveled all over the United States and Canada. When they got a full-time offer from a Hawaiian hotel chain in Minneapolis, they packed their bags and moved. Minneapolis was about as far removed from Tonga as it could possibly be, but the Wolfgramms liked it there and contributed to the local ward as well as to the local entertainment industry. The missionaries in the area could always find a willing member of the family to go on splits with them, and their refreshing performances stimulated a lot of questions from the audiences about “what makes them so different?”
They were devastated, then, when the hotel chain they were working with folded. For several months the family of 15 lived in the hotel owners’ basement. They decided that it would be more profitable to switch from Polynesian to pop music, and they began traveling in an old, uninsulated van, to whatever engagements they could scrape up. “The van didn’t have any seats,” Leroy recalls, “and we sat in chairs against the sides. Sometimes we traveled in 40 below temperatures, and there would be ice on the roof—on the inside. We had no money, but Dad knows how to survive. When we didn’t have any place to stay, Dad would say ‘Let’s try camping in the snow—it’s different!’”
“Those were crazy days,” Eugene adds. “We’d live on balogna sandwiches, stop at a gas station to wash our faces, then go in and perform.”
Finally, however, their efforts and dedication payed off. Don Powell, an entertainment industry expert who had managed some top groups in the 60s and 70s, heard them play. He had retired from entertainment because the industry had become “so bizarre,” but when he heard the Wolfgramms, his interest was rekindled.
“The reason I reentered this business was literally because of this family,” says Don, who had had very little contact with the LDS church before he met the Wolfgramms. “They’re just too good to be true. Not only are they tremendously talented, but they have an unusually strong work ethic for their age. The whole family is so loving and bright, I couldn’t help getting involved. And we’ll never have problems with drugs or alcohol or anything like that, as you do with so many entertainers. It’s absolute heaven to manage them.”

The coming days would try the Saints, including the Whitneys. In a nationwide economic downturn and banking panic, many turned against the Church and the Prophet. Commanded to move to Missouri, Newel hesitated. He had poured his life into his store in Kirtland. Much of the wealth it made sustained the Church. How could he just walk away?

The Lord chastised him for paying too much attention to worldly things and for “littleness of soul” (Doctrine and Covenants 117:11). Newel repented and obeyed. He settled in Nauvoo, Illinois, where he continued serving as bishop and later as Presiding Bishop.

Dear Reed or Elder May,
I miss you. I miss you very much! I miss you, very, very much! Do I have to call you Elder May, or can I still call you Reed? I’m glad that you got out of the empty sea. I was worried about you drowning or something. When I asked her, Mom laughed and said that you were fine there, but I was still worried.
I have something that I want to tell you. But maybe I’d better not tell you.
Please write a letter just to me.
Love,Brad
Dear Buddy,
I miss you, too—very much! When I think of how much you will grow and change in two years, sometimes it makes me a little sad that I can’t be there with you. But I know that I’m doing the right thing by going on a mission. Besides, the elders here who are almost ready to go home all say that two years zoom by so fast that you can hardly believe it.
To answer your question, yes, you can still call me Reed instead of Elder May. But do I have to start calling you Brad now, or can I still call you Buddy?
Buddy, I have to admit that I was puzzled for a long time about what you meant by the “empty sea.” Then yesterday I told Elder Watts, my companion, that you were worried about me in the empty sea, and all of a sudden it came to me! Where I was, was not the empty sea, but the MTC. That stands for Missionary Training Center. That’s where I learned about being a missionary and how to teach people the gospel.
The MTC was a good experience, but I’m glad to be in the mission field now. The members here are friendly, and some of them help us a lot. We are teaching some great families. Elder Watts is a hard worker, and we spend a lot of hours trying to find people who want to learn about the restoration of the gospel and the Church.
Write to me again soon. I want to keep in touch and know everything that happens to you, kind of like our talks in the dark across the bedroom as we were going to sleep. Only now we will have our talks by writing letters.
And remember, you can tell me anything, just like always.
Love,Reed
Dear Reed,
It was awesome to get my very own letter from you. I’ll keep writing to you, if you’ll keep writing to me. But I still miss you very, very much! Nobody else calls me Buddy, but you can because I will always be your buddy.
Last night was our second grade Spring Sing. Everyone was there but you. Even Grandpa Richards was there, and your girlfriend Kelly. She says that she misses you very much, but I know that she doesn’t miss you as much as I do.
After the Sing we went to get ice-cream cones, and we talked about you. Mom and Dad said that you seem grown-up now. Natalie and Rachel said that they’re proud to be the sisters of a missionary. Scooter didn’t say anything because he’s too young.
I ate two scoops on my cone, one scoop of chocolate and one scoop of your favorite, pralines-and-cream. I did it for you.
I still have something I need to tell you, but I’m still afraid to tell you.
Love,Buddy
Dear Reed,
I know that I just wrote to you yesterday, but I have to write to you again today. If you were home, we could talk about it, but you’re not here.
Last night Melissa came to our house. She brought chocolate chip cookies that she made. She gave me a big hug and said that I look just like a little Reed, like somebody took you and let some of the air out. She’s pretty! Anyway, she says that she misses you very much.
Tell me, Reed, does Melissa know about Kelly? Does Kelly know about Melissa? What am I supposed to do with all your girlfriends? What if they both come over at the same time?
I told Melissa that she should send some chocolate chip cookies to you. I can’t tell you what she said because she wants it to be a surprise. If I can figure out a way to do it, I’ll send you some pralines-and-cream ice cream too.
Maybe next time I’ll tell you my secret problem.
Love,Buddy
(To be continued)