Gospel Story Finder

Whether gardening or playing, the Gándola children like being outside. They jump on their trampoline, ride bikes, and play in the trees. Shawn and Micah are great tree-climbers, and Danielle and Lucas like hunting for green pinecones. One day, their next-door neighbor pruned some branches that fell down in the Gándolas’ yard and formed a wall of leaves. Shawn made a hole through them to serve as a door, and he calls the leaf-wall his fort.

After two weeks of constructing carnival booths, baking cookies, and wrapping candy and prizes, the youth, of the Ventura California Stake were ready for their “Getting to Know You” session with retarded young people.
Nestled against low hills and surrounded by lush landscaping, the Camarillo State Hospital is home to over 200 severely retarded youths. These young people were greeted on a one-to-one basis by their “friends for a day” and led from booth to booth where they earned rewards for achievement, stopping now and then to sway and dance a little to a youth band.
In the afternoon, 150 more young Latter-day Saints joined the group, and it was not uncommon to see a patient, hand-in-hand with an LDS youth, being led around the crowd and personally introduced.
Randy Jabbs, in charge of one of the booths, commented, “This was a good project, a big learning process. It has let us know some of the problems to be coped with.”
Steve Moore, a young patient, said that the fish pond was his favorite booth and then summed it up for many others when he said, “Best of all, I found a friend!”

When I was a new mission president, I was excited to receive our first group of new missionaries. A few of our more experienced missionaries were preparing for a brief meeting with them. I noticed that they had arranged children’s chairs in a semicircle.
“What’s up with the little chairs?” I asked.
The missionaries, somewhat sheepishly, said, “For the new missionaries.”
I believe the way we see others significantly impacts their perception of who they are and what they can become. Our new missionaries sat on adult chairs that day.

Backstage at the Chicago Heights Stake roadshows, the halls hummed with oversized insects and giant barnyard animals. Bananas, grapes, and apples giggled and whispered, waiting to perform their well-rehearsed numbers. On stage, lively skits entertained the audience with clever scripts, rousing music and dance, and colorful sets and props. One unit, the Hyde Park Branch, had no special costumes, no dance numbers, and only one modestly painted screen. Yet, this humble production, where the players sat on folding chairs pulled in from adjoining rooms, thrilled the souls of those who saw it.
Until recent years, the Hyde Park Branch in Chicago served primarily the Latter-day Saint students and faculty members at the University of Chicago. Not long ago, however, successful missionary efforts in Chicago’s predominantly black South Side have brought new black families into branch membership.
From a brainstorming session with the teenagers and the branch roadshow specialist, Shirley Munson, came the idea to tell a simple story about a black family’s conversion to the gospel. Greg Porter, 15, was essentially responsible for the script called “A New Day Dawns on Chicago’s South Side.” It was in keeping with the stake theme, “Catch the Sunshine.” With the inclusion of some simple songs, a touch of editing to the script, and several rousing rehearsals, the cast was ready for opening and, as is the nature of roadshows, closing night.
The story was that of a fictional black family, the Hendersons. The parents and their lively teenagers are a righteous family searching to know more of God’s truth. Two missionaries, “Elder Elder and Elder Younger,” come to their home. The Hendersons welcome the missionaries warmly, receive their message, and agree to come to church. The concluding scene shows the family walking to the front of the stage with many other branch members coming from the wings of the stage behind them, welcoming them and including them in the fellowship of the branch.
Eyes glistened in both the audience and the cast as the curtain closed. Everyone sensed, even amidst the laughter and liveliness of stake roadshows, that a new day has dawned.

About this time, I attended a fireside where Julie spoke; she talked a lot about prayer. I took her counsel to heart and decided to start praying morning and night with real sincerity. I got up earlier than before, scheduled 15 or 20 minutes just for prayer, and treated it as an appointment with the most important person in my life. I found that I could get answers and guidance in a way I never had before.

Emily’s family had spent a wonderful weekend at Grandma’s house, and now it was time to leave. Emily was sad to say good-bye but happy that it was her turn to fly home with Dad in his small airplane while her sisters and brother drove back with Mom in their car. Emily loved flying with Dad. It was so peaceful in the sky. She liked to gaze across the tops of the puffy clouds and pretend that she could jump down onto them and run about.
“We’d better get going,” Dad said. “Although when I turned in my flight plan, the airport official said that we should easily miss the storm coming in, it’s almost dusk. I don’t like to take chances, even on a short flight like this one.”
Emily hugged Grandma good-bye and climbed aboard. Soon they were in the air.
It quickly became dark and began to rain. “Are you OK, Emily?” Dad asked. Emily nodded. The weather was making the flight bumpy, but she did not mind. The bumps made her tummy tickle.
The storm grew worse. Rain pounded the windows, and lightning flashed all around. The little plane bucked and shook. Emily started feeling scared. She knew that Dad must be nervous, too, because he stopped talking to her and concentrated on flying.
Then Emily remembered something she had learned in Primary. Sister Adams had told them that whenever they were afraid, they could pray to Heavenly Father. “Dad, can we have a special prayer to help us get home safely?” she asked.
Dad smiled at her. “I’ve already been praying in my heart. Will you please say a prayer for us out loud?”
Emily closed her eyes and folded her arms. She asked Heavenly Father to bless them to fly safely home and to help her to not be afraid.
“Thank you for praying, Emily,” Dad said. “We should be home in about thirty minutes.”
Emily felt peaceful and calm. The wind and rain continued to lash the plane, and the ride was still bumpy, but she was no longer afraid. Instead, she felt sleepy.
When the wheels of the airplane hit the runway, they made a squeaky sound that awakened her. “We made it, honey,” Dad said. “Let’s go home.”
The next morning when Emily got up, there was a letter by her pillow.
Dear Emily,I wanted to tell you how much I love you. Last night I was afraid. I couldn’t believe that I had taken my little girl with me in such a bad storm. After your sweet prayer, I looked over to see how you were doing. When I saw that you were asleep, an overwhelmingly peaceful feeling came over me. I knew that if you could sleep while the plane was being tossed around in a lightning storm, you must have tremendous faith that we would be OK. Then I, too, had faith that we would be OK. I knew that Heavenly Father was watching over us and that I would be able to fly us home safely. Thank you, Emily, for not only having faith in me, but faith in our Father in Heaven.Love,Dad
Emily felt good inside. She loved Dad and her family so much! She knelt by her bed and thanked Heavenly Father for such a wonderful family and for the gospel. She couldn’t wait to get to school and tell her friends all about her airplane ride in the storm.

Aldershot Muslim community receive help from a local church for prayer services venue
With little time to find an alternative, at the end of September a local Muslim community were left with nowhere to worship. Chairman of Aldershot Football Club Shahid Azeem who worships at the mosque asked his friend, local councillor David Clifford, for help in finding a temporary alternative venue for worship.
David Clifford, who is also a member of the River Wey Ward in Staines Stake, called his bishop, Dan Grant to ask if the Muslim community could use their chapel until they found another place to worship. Bishop Grant was happy to help and said “We have been blessed to have a building which we are more than willing to share with our local community when we can safely do so. It makes me happy to think our Muslim brothers and sisters may use the building to worship and pray as do we.”
Shahid was thrilled and impressed that the Church would be so generous, the only stipulation being that a priesthood holder would allow access to the chapel and ensure that everything was kept tidy.
The leader of the Muslim community, Liaqat Hussain, commented that the simplicity of the chapel and lack of religious symbols suits their worship services perfectly. He also said “We are so grateful to Bishop Daniel and Cllr David Clifford for bending over backwards to accommodate us and make us most welcome. This is a great way to demonstrate the multi-faith groups working together in harmony.”
The whole process happened relatively quickly. Shaihid asked David for help on 29 September and the first prayer meeting was able to be held on 9 October, just over a week later. The Muslim community will continue to use the chapel until they find another place to worship. What a wonderful example of a community working together to find a solution to a problem!

Min-Jun stared out the window at the clouds. “It looks like it will rain tomorrow,” he said.
Grandfather looked up from his newspaper and nodded. It was late summer in Seoul, South Korea, and monsoon season had begun.
Min-Jun set an umbrella next to his clothes for Sunday. “I think we should leave early tomorrow.”
Grandfather smiled. “Good idea. We’ll have to walk the longer way, in case the lower road floods.”
“Do you think the Church building will be all right?” Min-Jun asked. Last year the basement had flooded during monsoon season.
“Yes,” said Grandfather. “But it never hurts to pray.”
“Then I’ll pray for the church tonight. And that we can make it there safely. Jal-ja-yo (good night).” Min-Jun bowed and went to bed.
In the morning they left the apartment early. Min-Jun looked up at the dark clouds that filled the sky.
“Have faith,” said Grandfather.
Min-Jun followed Grandfather up the narrow staircase on the hill near their apartment. They paused at the top to catch their breath. Their white shirts were already damp from the heavy humidity in the air.
Grandfather held out his hand to feel the first raindrops. “Do you feel that? The rain is starting.”
They opened up their umbrellas. By the time they reached the next staircase, the rain was coming down fast. Min-Jun squinted to see each step through the rain. “Whoa!” he cried as he slipped and landed on his knee.
“Are you hurt?” Grandfather asked. He leaned down to look at the hole in Min-Jun’s trousers.
“It’s just a scrape,” Min-Jun said, his voice shaking.
“Let’s fix it up at the church,” said Grandfather.
Min-Jun and Grandfather climbed the rest of the stairs and turned onto the upper road.
“The wind is worse up here,” said Grandfather, clutching his umbrella. Min-Jun could barely control his umbrella. Suddenly a gust of wind came and flipped it inside out, tearing the umbrella at the seams. Min-Jun’s shoulders drooped.
Grandfather held out his umbrella. “Come under mine. We’re almost there.”
Min-Jun and Grandfather shared the umbrella, but it didn’t do much to keep out the constant rain. As they came near the church, Min-Jun heard music playing.
“They’ve already started!” Min-Jun ran to the front doors. Then he saw his reflection in the glass. His hair was matted and dripping, his trousers were torn, and his shoes were muddy. He shrank away from the door and back down the steps.
“I … I can’t go in,” Min-Jun stuttered.
“You’re just fine,” said Grandfather.
“But I’m all dirty and wet!”
Grandfather looked at Min-Jun, then looked at the rain gauge tied to the fence.
“It’s easy to measure the rain, Min-Jun, but how do we measure ourselves?”
Min-Jun blinked up at Grandfather.
“You see muddy shoes, a scraped knee, and messy hair, and you think you don’t measure up to much,” Grandfather said. “But Jesus Christ has a better way of measuring. He sees your heart and knows that you’re doing what’s right. If you measure yourself His way, you’ll see that the gauge is overflowing.”
Min-Jun looked at the rain gauge. It kept rising with each raindrop. He thought of how hard he had worked to get to church and how warm and happy he felt when he was there. He thought about how much he loved the Savior and how much the Savior loved him.
Min-Jun hugged Grandfather, and together they walked into church.

In the early days of the Church there was a good and faithful woman, Mary Smith, widow of the martyred patriarch Hyrum Smith. She firmly believed in the promises of the Lord. Her son, Joseph F., and her grandson, Joseph Fielding, lived to become presidents of the Church. President Joseph F. Smith related an incident that occurred when he was a 10-year-old boy:
“I recollect most vividly,” he said, “a circumstance that occurred in the days of my childhood. My mother was a widow with a large family to provide for. One spring when we opened our potato pits she had her boys get a load of the best potatoes, and she took them to the tithing office; potatoes were scarce that season. I was a little boy at the time, and drove the team. When we drove up to the steps of the tithing office, ready to unload the potatoes, one of the clerks came out and said to my mother, ‘Widow Smith, it’s a shame that you should have to pay tithing’. … he chided my mother for paying her tithing, called her anything but wise or prudent; and said there were others who were strong and able to work that were supported from the tithing office. My mother turned upon him and said: ‘… you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Would you deny me a blessing? If I did not pay my tithing, I should expect the Lord to withhold His blessings from me. I pay my tithing, not only because it is a law of God, but because I expect a blessing by doing it. By keeping this and other laws, I expect to prosper and to be able to provide for my family.’” (CR, April 1900, p. 48.)

The following is an account of a young girl who grew up in a small rural community with limited educational opportunities. The first day of her senior year she found herself without friends, entering the high school in what seemed to her to be a big city. Having lost her way and arriving late, her anxiety was only intensified after she quickly observed that she not only didn’t know her way around, but a glance downward told her that her clothing was different, and she felt different in a most uncomfortable way.

It was at the close of that day, and the following morning, and each day thereafter that she poured out the yearnings of her heart to her Father in heaven, pleading for the ability to be the kind of a person worthy of friends—lots of friends, boyfriends and girl friends—and making a promise to endeavor to keep all of the commandments in return.

Days and weeks went by. Fall gave way to winter, and while friendships were forming through her sincere respect extended to each student, still there was a need unfulfilled. Then one Sunday afternoon what seemed like an answer to her prayer came. The telephone rang and the voice of one of the special boys at school enthusiastically extended an invitation to her to attend the Sunday movie. Oh, the yearning, the prayers, the promises, the excitement, the conflict, and now the decision. Could this be an answer to her prayers—a Sunday movie? The decision was quickly but painfully made; the invitation was declined, the response cheerful but final. Oh, the torment. Would he ever call again?

A young girl poured out the yearnings of her heart to her Father in heaven, obeyed his commandments, and trusted in the outcome. That particular young man never called again, but in due time her prayers were answered with many friends, boyfriends and girl friends, and as that school year drew to a close, she was nominated by the studentbody to receive a special award for friendliness. Many lessons had been learned that year, but the lesson of greatest importance she expressed in these words:
“Our Father in heaven loves us.
He knows how we feel.
He listens to the yearnings of our heart.
He strengthens us when we’re discouraged.
And he rewards us—in due time.”

“When I was 12,” says Loukia, “I went to church for the first time and was so happy, but then I realized that I was the only one my age. Now, two years later, we have so many young women that for the first time we were able to have Young Women Camp.” As they met together, she says, “I realized what it means to be a Latter-day Saint. When we live the gospel, a light surrounds us.”
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“Loukia C., 15, bore her testimony for the first time at Young Women camp and was later baptized.”

I will never forget my first temple recommend interview with my bishop as I was preparing to go to the temple for my own endowments. The bishop was my father. Every day we spent a lot of time together, and he could have interviewed me in our home, in the barn, in the field, in our car, or in any convenient place. But Dad wanted to make this a special occasion, one that I would remember.
One day I received a telephone call from the bishop’s office. Dad wanted to set up an appointment with me for a temple recommend interview. I thought this strange, as he had never called before to set up an interview or an appointment with me. We arranged a time for a meeting in the bishop’s office. The appointed time came. When I arrived in his office, his desk was completely cleared, which was unusual, because normally it would have been almost covered by papers and books. Only the scriptures lay on top of the desk. In addition to giving me the formal interview, Dad wanted to make it a learning experience for me.
He passed the scriptures over to my side of the desk and asked me to read: “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. Thou shalt not steal; neither commit adultery, nor kill, nor do anything like unto it” (D&C 59:6). The last sentence stuck in my mind.
Illustration by Mike Malm
We then discussed what it meant to be morally clean. The discussion focused on cleanliness of thought. Our thoughts, he said, usually develop into actions. If our thoughts remain clean and pure, we will never commit acts that would prevent us from holding a temple recommend.
Next, he picked up the scriptures and read the promise of the Lord related to the Word of Wisdom (see D&C 89:18–21). We discussed the value of keeping our physical bodies as healthy, wholesome homes for our eternal spirits. The spirit of man should be housed in the cleanest tabernacle we can build while we are here on earth.
Then my father handed the scriptures back to me to read: “Behold, there shall be a record kept among you; and in it thou shalt be called a seer, a translator, a prophet, an apostle of Jesus Christ, an elder of the church through the will of God the Father, and the grace of your Lord Jesus Christ,
“Being inspired of the Holy Ghost to lay the foundation thereof, and to build it up unto the most holy faith. …
“Wherefore, meaning the church, thou shalt give heed unto all his words and commandments which he shall give unto you as he receiveth them, walking in all holiness before me” (D&C 21:1–2, 4).
We discussed the necessity of honoring and sustaining the prophet. We have been promised that the Lord will never let His prophet lead us astray. Here is a sure foundation on which we can build our lives.
Next my dad read: “There is a law, irrevocably decreed in heaven before the foundations of this world, upon which all blessings are predicated—
“And when we obtain any blessing from God, it is by obedience to that law upon which it is predicated” (D&C 130:20–21).
We talked about the importance of being obedient to the law of the Lord and the payment of tithes and offerings to Him as a test of our faith.
Finally, we turned to the scriptures and read: “The veil was taken from our minds, and the eyes of our understanding were opened.
“We saw the Lord standing upon the breastwork of the pulpit, before us; and under his feet was a paved work of pure gold, in color like amber.
“His eyes were as a flame of fire; the hair of his head was white like the pure snow; his countenance shone above the brightness of the sun; and his voice was as the sound of the rushing of great waters, even the voice of Jehovah, saying:
“I am the first and the last; I am he who liveth, I am he who was slain; I am your advocate with the Father” (D&C 110:1–4).
We talked about the eternal hope we have in the Atonement of our Lord and Savior, and how necessary it is that we partake of these sacred ordinances so we can receive the greatest gift He has given us, the gift of eternal life, life with Him.
Dad filled out the temple recommend form and had me sign it, gave me a warm handshake, and congratulated me for being worthy to hold a current temple recommend. I left the office feeling exhilarated because I had passed one of the most important tests of my life. I had been deemed worthy to hold a temple recommend. I made a commitment to myself that I would always live worthy of holding a current temple recommend.

I was 16 when a cousin of mine set me up with her friend. At that time I didn’t consider a kiss to be a very meaningful thing. I thought that kissing a date good-night was just a way of saying thank you for the date if both of us had enjoyed being together.
As I picked up my date and spent time with her, I was impressed by both her looks and her personality. We seemed to be having a great time together. Sometime during the date, I started debating whether or not I should kiss her good-night.
Before the date was over, I decided that she was having a good time, she seemed to like me, and kissing her good-night would be okay. After I walked her to her door and we talked for a while, I attempted to kiss her. As I did, she moved just enough so that I “missed.” She turned the attempted kiss into a hug, as if that was what I had meant it to be. She thanked me for the date and went inside.
She had subtly made it look like the hug was all I had intended, but it did not feel very subtle at the time. I thought the people waiting in the car had probably noticed, and I was embarrassed. But mostly I felt like I had blown it. She was a fun girl, and I thought she would never want to go out with me again because I had tried to kiss her when she did not want to be kissed.
The next day I went to see my cousin, and she excitedly asked how the date had gone. I told her about the great time I had, but also said that her friend would probably never want to go out with me again. I explained what had happened and said I was very anxious to know how her friend felt. I asked my cousin if she would call her friend to inquire about the date. The response of my date surprised me. She told my cousin that she had fun, but she was sure I wouldn’t want to go out with her again. It had not even occurred to me that she might think I’d be upset at her for turning her head. She went on to explain to my cousin that she just didn’t believe in kissing on the first date. That was a moment of change in my life.
I decided if an impressive girl like her chose not to kiss on the first date, I would never kiss on the first date either. But something more important occurred to me later as I thought about those events. I realized that I had been asking her to choose between her standards and what I wanted. That bothered me a lot. I did not think of myself as that kind of person. I promised myself I would never again put a young woman in that situation.

As soon as the bell rang, Lincoln started walking to the parking lot as fast as he could. He couldn’t wait to get home from school!
He stood on his tiptoes, looking at all the buses and cars in the pickup lane. Classmates rushed by him, laughing and talking. But Lincoln didn’t feel like joining them. He prayed that his mom would get there soon. Finally he saw their blue minivan.
“Hi, buddy,” Mom said as the van door slid open. Lincoln climbed in and pulled the door shut. All the noise went quiet. It was like he had clicked the mute button on the TV remote.
Lincoln sighed with relief. The quiet felt so good.
“How was your day?” Mom asked.
Instead of answering, Lincoln started to cry.
Mom looked at him in the rearview mirror.
“Uh oh, what happened?” she asked. “Are you OK? Did you get hurt?”
Lincoln wanted to answer, but his throat felt tight. Even if he could talk, he didn’t know what to say.
“I don’t know,” he finally mumbled.
“You don’t know why you’re crying?” Mom asked.
Lincoln shrugged. “I feel worried and nervous and scared, and I don’t even know why!” He cried harder, glad that he didn’t have to hold it in anymore.
“It sounds like you are feeling anxious,” Mom said. “Sometimes I feel like that too. I actually feel that way a lot.”
“You do?” Lincoln asked, wiping his cheeks with his sleeve.
“Yep. For me, it happens when I’m tired or I’ve been around a lot of people without a break.”
Lincoln nodded. That sounded like his day today! He was glad he wasn’t the only one who felt this way sometimes.
But there was still something he didn’t understand.
“At church I learned that when we choose the right, we feel good inside,” Lincoln said. “I don’t think I did anything bad today, but I still feel terrible!”
Mom looked at him with a smile. “Our feelings can be funny like that. Not all unhappy feelings are because of bad choices. There are lots of reasons we can feel unhappy or anxious. Sometimes we don’t even know why we feel the way we do.”
Lincoln thought about that during the rest of the drive. He was glad his anxious feelings weren’t because of something he did wrong. When they got home, they said a prayer together and asked Heavenly Father for help. Then Mom helped him figure out some things he could try to feel better.
First Lincoln got a snack. Then he played with his toys for a while. After that, he read a few chapters of a book he had gotten for his birthday.
Pretty soon, his body felt more relaxed. The nervous thoughts weren’t racing through his brain anymore.
Lincoln thanked Heavenly Father for helping him feel better and learn more about his feelings. He could use the ideas he’d learned next time he felt anxious too. Things were going to be OK!

I was 26 when my husband and I lost our first child. Kennedy was diagnosed with a brain tumor when she was only 13 months old. After three surgeries, five rounds of chemotherapy, and many medications and treatments, she passed away in our arms at 20 months old.
I was devastated to lose my beautiful, curious, and energetic little girl. How could this happen? How could I move on? I had so many questions, but I didn’t have any answers. A couple of days after the funeral, my husband and I visited the gravesite, still covered with beautiful pink flowers and ribbons from the funeral.
As I thought about my daughter, I saw a tiny baby bird, too young to fly, hopping on the grass. This bird reminded me of Kennedy because she loved animals. The bird hopped over to the grave and played in the ribbons and flowers. I smiled, knowing this is exactly what Kennedy would have wanted. The bird then hopped toward me. I didn’t dare move a muscle. The little bird hopped right next to me, leaned against my leg, closed its eyes, and fell asleep.
I can hardly explain the feelings I had in that moment. I felt as if I was getting a hug from my Kennedy. I could not hold my daughter, but this little bird—a creation of our Father in Heaven—could come and rest its tiny head on me, reminding me that Heavenly Father understood my pain and would always be there to comfort me and help me through this trial.
I still didn’t have all the answers to my questions, but this tender mercy reassured me that Kennedy and I are both loved by our Heavenly Father and that through the atoning sacrifice of His Son, Jesus Christ, I have the hope that Kennedy, my husband, and I will one day be together again as a family.

During the spring, my husband and I attended our four-year-old grandson’s soccer game. Excitement was in the air as children ran in every direction chasing the ball. When the final whistle blew, the players didn’t know who won or who lost. They had simply played the game.
The coaches asked the players to shake hands with the other team. Then we saw something quite remarkable. One coach called for a victory tunnel.
Parents, grandparents, and anybody who came to see the game stood up and formed two lines facing each other. Then they raised their arms and created an arch. The children squealed as they ran under the arms of the cheering adults and down the path.
Soon the children from the other team decided to join in the fun. All of the players were cheered on by the adults as they ran through the victory tunnel.
In my mind I could see another picture. I had the feeling I was seeing these children living the plan Heavenly Father created for every child. They were running on the strait and narrow path, under the arms of the people who loved them. Each child felt the joy of being on the path.
Jesus Christ has “marked the path and led the way” for each of us.* If we follow His lead, we will all return to our heavenly home and be safe in Heavenly Father’s arms.

Soon after arriving home from World War II, I had “promises to keep” (Robert Frost, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”)—meaning going on a mission now. I grew tired of waiting for the bishop. And in some early ark-steadying, I went to the bishop’s home and said I had saved the money and wanted to go, so let’s “get this show on the road.” The good bishop hesitated and then said he’d been meaning to ask me about going.

Years later I would learn from that bishop’s devoted ward clerk that the bishop had felt I needed a little more time with my family after having been away so far and for a tenth of my life. Hearing this, I chastised myself for having been too judgmental. (See Bruce C. Hafen, A Disciple’s Life: The Biography of Neal A. Maxwell [2002], 129–30.)

After finishing ordinary level a year later, I started to think about my future. One day while I was in bed listening to music, I decided to continue studying business management, but then felt a prompting to preach the gospel. I quickly brushed it off from my mind because at that moment, I was studying commercials. To preach the gospel was one thing I desired, but at that moment the subjects I studied were only leading me to business and there was no way I was going to be enrolled in Bible school.
In early 2021, I started to prepare my mission papers which was kind of rough. One thing that increased my desire and testimony happened when I had less than five days before I left on my mission. I was coming from my bishop’s house with a gift he gave me. I decided to show it to my mother and sister. I was about to leave them when my sister called me back. She asked, “Do you still remember when you were young what you said you wanted to do when you grow up?” And I replied, “to be a businessman,” then she said, “No, that was and is your twin brother’s dream and he is now going to study economics in university. You said you wanted to be like a pastor and now soon you are going on mission.”
I started to remember the prompting in 2018 when I was trying to chase the wrong dream (business management). I had the desire to preach the gospel when I was young, and now is the time to go and do it, in a church that was restored because a boy of 14 prayed to God. Why would God lead me to this Church? So, I can live the dream of young Mabuku! Many things happened and I was tried and tempted because of the new faith I chose. Since I was converted to the Lord, and on my journey to the mission field, though my faith was not always strong, I wasn’t shaken.

My dad took my sister, Cathy, and me to a daddy-daughter campout. We had lots of fun. At night we listened to stories and sang songs around a big bonfire. We roasted marshmallows and ate s’mores before going to bed. Cathy and I woke up in the middle of the night because there was a big rainstorm. I said a prayer that our tent would not blow down like it had at our last campout. When I woke up in the morning, the tent was still standing. I thanked Heavenly Father.Susan D., age 7, Virginia

Belonging to Relief Society is critical for newly baptized sisters and, by extension, their families. While serving with my husband as he presided over the England London South Mission, I met many new converts—like Gloria, a single mother. When she joined the Church, she joined Relief Society. It was a safe place where she could ask questions about her newfound faith. She heard women openly share their experiences, which led her to experiment upon the word of God. She’s received her patriarchal blessing; she’s been to the temple; she serves in the Church. I think of President Hinckley’s counsel to me: “[Women] need to be together in an environment that bolsters faith.” Relief Society provides such an environment.