Gospel Story Finder

Moving is tough, but Joann Kalaui, currently of the Tuba Ward, Page Arizona Stake, never complains. Her father’s work has taken the family from Blanding, Utah, to Samoa, to Hawaii, then to Montezuma Creek, Utah. In her senior year her family moved again to Tuba City, a small town located on the largest Navajo Indian reservation in the United States.
In her short time in Tuba City, Joann has become active in student government, volleyball, track and field, and basketball. She also maintains a 4.0 grade point average, and is eager to tell anyone she meets about the Church.
Joann’s neighbor and close friend is deaf, so Joann decided to learn sign language. She then encouraged her family and other young women in her ward to learn it so that her friend would not feel left out.

Feeling the urge to get up and dance, friends Reagan N. and Lauren A. of Pennsylvania, USA, came up with the idea to organize a dance for all their friends. They also thought this would be a fun opportunity to fulfill a 10-hour Personal Progress value project for Choice and Accountability. They planned and organized everything needed, from invitations and decorations to refreshments and a disc jockey. But what made this dance stand apart from others is that this was a dance for charity.
Everyone attending the dance brought a nonperishable food item to act as an admission ticket. There was even a prize for the person who brought the most cans. The dance was a big success. Reagan and Lauren collected over 180 cans of food, which they donated to a local homeless shelter. They also completed a 10-hour project that helped the community and provided a fun evening for everyone who attended the dance.

It was a celebration so special that I traveled more than six thousand kilometers to return to my Samoan village of Faletele.
The village was bustling with activity. Crowding in with the few hundred villagers were more than a hundred of my relatives from many parts of Samoa and many honored guests from other villages.
I started walking through the village, heading toward the big, domed roofed fale [house] when I saw my beloved cousin Sama. Suddenly I was filled with pride and sorrow and love as I remembered when we first came to know Sama—Sama the Thumb.
I was just five years old. Sama was ten. His parents had gone to New Zealand for the dedication of the temple, and Sama had come to stay with us.
I was watching the young men and boys play ball. A bus stopped on the road, and one of my aunts got out, followed by a boy who we learned was our cousin Sama. When they went to the Tuita’ua’s fale, I followed them.
Tuita’ua Ioane was the senior member and head of our family. Hundred of relatives—brothers and sisters, husbands and wives, aunts and uncles. Grandchildren and cousins—honored and obeyed him. Tuita’ua is one of the great titles in Samoa, and the Tuita’ua is respected by all Samoans.
In the days that followed, we enjoyed getting to know Sama with his stories and jokes and his sense of humor. We soon accepted him not only as a cousin but also as a good friend. When Sama was with us, whether we were working or playing, we laughed and had fun.
On Sunday morning I couldn’t find Sama. All day I asked the people of the village if they had seen him, but nobody knew where he was.
Finally, in the late afternoon, long after our church services and our afternoon meal were over Sama came walking through the village in his white shirt and white lavalava [native skirt or kilt]. Tuita’ua Ioane called him into the fale. “Where have you been, Sama?” he asked.
“In Fuapa’epa’e.”
“You walked the twelve kilometers to Fuapa’epa’e? And back?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Why?”
“Because that is the closest village where I can attend my church.”
Tuita’ua Ioane took off his wire-rimmed reading glasses and laid them on the Bible, which he’d been reading. “Sama, the village rule is that there will be only one church in Faletele and that all the people in Faletele will attend that church. Do you understand? You are part of my family, Sama, but you are also a guest in this village and you are under my protection. You know our rule.” He leaned forward and looked Sama in the eyes. “You do what you have to do.”
The following week none of the cousins mentioned Sama’s trip to Fuapa’epa’e. They continued to joke and laugh together as they worked and played together.
Trouble started on the second Sunday. I woke up to the sounds of arguing. Two of my cousins, Malini and Tofo, were chasing after Sama, who was dressed in his white shirt and lavalava.
“Sama, you know what the village rule is!” Tofo shouted.
Malini grabbed Sama’s arm. “How can you show such disrespect to Tuita’ua Ioane?”
Sama stood boldly in front of them. “Tuita’ua told me to do what I have to do. And this is what I have to do!”
As he started walking away again, Malini shouted after him, “Sama, don’t embarrass our family like this!”
At the end of the day when Sama came walking back into Faletele, some of the villagers made fun of Sama, calling him bad names. Some of them mocked him calling “Mamona” [Mormon] as he walked by. All the cousins were angry at Sama and wouldn’t talk to him—all of them, that is, except me. I had Sama all to myself the entire week. It was wonderful as we talked and sang and he told me stories.
“Maybe tomorrow you will remove our family shame and come with us to the village church,” Malini told Sama on Saturday night.
But on Sunday morning Sama was gone again. Next to each of our sleeping mats was a gift that Sama had made.
When Sama returned that evening, I ran out to greet him. He was eager to see the others, too, until he saw that his gifts had been broken and thrown away.
“The villagers made our cousins angry,” I explained. “But I kept my gifts. I like them very much. Thank you.”
Sama smiled at me, then went off my himself until it was time for the evening meal.
When he returned the cousins shouted, “You are a disgrace to our family!
“Find someplace else to sleep. You’re no longer welcome in the boys’ fale.”
They pushed Sama down, and raised their fists to hit Sama. “Because of you, our friends are calling us bad names!”
I was afraid that the cousins were going to hurt Sama, so I ran to get Tuita’ua Ioane. But he had heard the fight and had already come to the door of his fale. “You boys, stop it now!” He commanded. “All of you, come in here!”
At the sound of his voice, the boys immediately stopped. They walked meekly into the fale and sat down.
“Look at my hand!” Tuita’ua Ioane held out his hand. “See how these fingers are bunched here together? And how the thumb is out here all by itself?”
We all looked at his hand.
“We have a saying here in Samoa: ‘The thumb stands alone, but it is the strongest of the fingers.’”
Tuita’ua Ioane pointed at each of the cousins. “You boys are the fingers. But Sama is the thumb!”
Even though I was very young, I learned many things that night. Tuita’ua Ioane taught us about being true to yourself and valiant in your beliefs. His words and Sama’s example changed my life.
After thinking back to those days, I continued walking up the steps of the big fale and removed my shoes, as was the custom. Sama saw me immediately. And we hugged each other. Everyone was there for just one reason—to honor the Tuita’ua. Tuita’ua Sama.
But to me he would always be Sama the Thumb.

The ambulance crew had gone, leaving the house quiet and still. Kierra’s mom and dad sat next to each other on the couch, crying. Six-year-old Kierra didn’t feel like playing, so she sat down next to her parents and cried with them.
“Where’s Baby?” Kierra’s two-year-old sister, Kaleah, asked. “Where’s Baby?”
“Jarom went back to live with Heavenly Father,” Mom replied.
“Where’s Baby?” Kaleah asked again.
“Jarom died, Kaleah,” Kierra said. “He’s not coming home.”
Kaleah didn’t seem to understand. She wandered from room to room, looking for her brother.
Later that evening, Dad sat at the computer typing as tears ran down his face.
“Dad, what are you doing?” Kierra asked as she hugged him.
“I’m writing down my feelings,” he replied. “I hurt so badly it is all I can do.”
“Will you write down my feelings?” Kierra asked.
“Sure,” he said.
Kierra thought for a moment and then spoke the words from her heart. “I love you, Jarom. I wish you were back on earth because I miss you. Sometimes I wish you were bigger—strong and healthy. You were a sweetheart. I loved to kiss and hug you. When I was at school I would always think of you. Sometimes I made Mommy happy by taking care of you. I love how you laughed. I liked your smiles. I want you to be alive again.”
Dad wiped his tears away with his sleeve as he typed Kierra’s words. After she had finished speaking, he continued to stare at the computer screen.
“Kierra,” he said, “Jarom will live again.”
“But he’s dead,” Kierra replied. “How can he live again?”
“Jesus Christ came to the earth, lived a perfect life, and then was killed by people who hated him,” Dad said. “Do you remember what happened three days after He died?”
“He was resurrected,” Kierra answered.
“That’s right,” Dad said. “And because He was resurrected, all of us will live again after we die.”
“But will Jarom be part of our family? I want him to still be my brother.”
“Kierra, because Mommy and Daddy were married for time and all eternity in the temple, our family can be together forever. If we are righteous, someday we will be reunited as a family.”
Kierra missed Jarom so much right now, but she smiled as she thought about being with her brother again.
“I can’t wait to be with him again,” she said.
“Me too,” Dad said. “Me too.”
A few days later, the family gathered at the cemetery as Jarom’s casket was placed in the ground.
“Good-bye, Jarom,” Kierra said. “I can’t wait to see you again.” The sun broke through the clouds, and Kierra smiled. “I thank Thee, Heavenly Father, that families can be forever.”

When I was 14 or 15 years old, I worked for my father in the family dry cleaning business during what free time I had. That summer, business was slow. So I said, “OK, I want to read the entire Book of Mormon—from the first page to the last.” And I did. The reading excited me.
In the edition of the Book of Mormon I had, Moroni’s promise was printed on one of the opening pages. That promise struck me. If someone read the book and then asked God, He would answer (see Moro. 10:3–5). I had heard the promise before, but in that moment the Holy Ghost impressed it upon my heart.
After finishing the last page of the book, I knelt in a small private room at work and prayed to Heavenly Father. And through the Holy Ghost I received the testimony I sought. From the tip of my toes to the last hair on my head, I felt that the Book of Mormon was the word of God and that Joseph Smith was a prophet.

When the Civil War erupted, Louisa felt a need to do her part. In 1862, she moved to Washington, D.C., and served as a nurse in the Union Army. She worked hard and got very little sleep because of her concern for the wounded soldiers. She became a trusted friend of many of the young patients. However, after only a few weeks at the hospital, Louisa became very ill with typhoid fever. Her father arrived in time to take her back home, where fresh air, rest, and her mother’s care helped her to recover. Later Louisa compiled the letters that she had written to her family from Washington about the suffering soldiers into a book called Hospital Sketches.

Illustrations by Maryn Roos
Matt and Mandy’s family is moving to a different city because of Dad’s job.
I’m leaving all of my friends behind!
Don’t worry, Matt. You make friends a lot easier than I do.
Yeah, I guess. But I still don’t know where my new school is. Or where my class will be. I’m sure I’ll get lost.
It’s scary right now because the future is foggy—like that day last winter when we got lost driving home from the movies.
That was actually kind of a fun adventure …
But we have each other, and we have the gospel. And if we hold on tight to those things, everything will work out.
Hmm. Fog? Holding on tight? Hey! It’s like Lehi’s dream in the Book of Mormon—holding on to the iron rod.
I guess it is.
And guess what else. Mandy, you know you’ve been looking forward to being old enough to go to the temple to do baptisms for the dead?
Mandy: Yes?
Well, our new home will be much closer to a temple.
Cool!
(To be continued.)

A few days later we were reading scriptures in Mom and Dad’s bedroom. Mom and I sat on the bed, and Eli stood next to us, holding Susie. We read about being witnesses for Jesus Christ. “To be a witness means that we tell people about Jesus,” Mom explained. “How do we help Eli know about Jesus?”
“We love him,” I said.
“That’s a very good way,” Mom said.
Suddenly, something warm and fuzzy landed in my lap. It was Susie Bear.
“Hannah. Susie,” Eli said, pointing at me.
“Is it my turn to play with Susie?” I asked him.
Eli nodded.
“That’s so nice, Eli,” Mom told him. “Hannah, I think Eli loves you a lot.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “And I love him a lot too.”

December 13th was the day I was to become a Christmas “secret pal.”
Every year the seminary students at Mingus Union High School in Cottonwood, Arizona pick people in need of love to become a part of their lives. Each night for 12 days before Christmas, the students share a gift, a treat, or a thought with someone. I picked my quiet, friendly neighbors Mr. and Mrs. Boyle to be the object of my secret attentions.
The first night I went to their back door to knock and run, leaving a little gift. I had to run to the door about four times before they heard me knocking. Each time, I ran quickly out the gate to hide behind their little blue car and wait to see if they would find my gift.
The next day I realized that their mean dog, who I thought at one time was going to take off half of my face, suddenly began to like me. He even licked me one night, and to think I had been afraid of him!
One night I knocked on the back door, and the Boyles answered lightning fast. They found the small present I’d left and came out with flashlights looking for me. I ran again to the back of their car. They both flashed the bright lights into my eyes and I didn’t dare breathe. I felt like I was part of the bumper. I almost stood up thinking I was caught, when suddenly they turned around and went back inside. I was so excited I hadn’t been caught.
One night I was walking home, and I overheard them say that they were going to be waiting for their secret admirer. So I put that night’s goodie in the mailbox. I called them on the phone and sang, “I wish you a Merry Christmas, I wish you a Merry Christmas, I wish you would go look in your mailbox, Merry Christmas, I truly love you.”
Three days before Christmas, I sneaked into the yard after dark as usual and glanced in the window. I saw Mr. Boyle sitting near Mrs. Boyle’s chair. I said to myself, “Now is the time to do it.” I was on my way to the back door when suddenly a hand grabbed me, and Mr. Boyle yelled, “Gotcha!” I was caught. Mr. Boyle took me inside to talk to his wife. When Mrs. Boyle saw who I was, she got tears in her eyes and they thanked me. When I was in their house I noticed that they didn’t have a tree or any kind of Christmas decorations up.
Even though I had been found out, I decided I wasn’t through yet. On Christmas I bought them a small decorated Christmas tree. This time I didn’t try to hide. When I took it over, they invited me in, and Mrs. Boyle, with tears streaming down her cheeks, told me about their son.
The Boyle’s son fought in Viet Nam. Mrs. Boyle promised him that she would never celebrate another Christmas without him. He was killed in the fighting. My efforts to bring a little Christmas into their lives was the first time since their son left to fight that they had felt the love of Christ and the Christmas spirit. Together, all hugging each other, we cried.

Thirteen-year-old Sherrie underwent a 14-hour operation for a tumor on her spinal cord. As she regained consciousness in the intensive care unit, she said: “Daddy, Aunt Cheryl is here, … and … Grandpa Norman … and Grandma Brown … are here. And Daddy, who is that standing beside you? … He looks like you, only taller. … He says he’s your brother, Jimmy.” Her uncle Jimmy had died at age 13 of cystic fibrosis.

“For nearly an hour, Sherrie … described her visitors, all deceased family members. Exhausted, she then fell asleep.”

Later she told her father, “Daddy, all of the children here in the intensive care unit have angels helping them.”20

As the sun rose the following morning, so did Bien’s hopes. Rescue workers pried him from the rubble and carried him to safety. His relieved family was notified. Bien was rushed to a hospital. Doctors immediately amputated his right arm. “I woke up, looked at my right side and cried out, ‘What’s happening here?’ I thought I was dreaming.” Shock turned to sorrow. “I felt so lonely because I might not be able to do what I used to do.”
After three bedridden months, Bien went home. Nearly all of his 50 classmates had perished. It seemed the same thing happened to Bien’s will to live. How could he, a right-handed person, manage with just his left hand?
While tutoring his nephews one day, Bien felt prompted to practice writing the alphabet. At first it was pure frustration. “My mind knew the shapes, but my hand had difficulty following.” However, practice makes perfect; less than a year after that fateful day, Bien was not only writing with ease but also back to his oil-painting hobby. And he resumed college.

In my early twenties, I faced a difficult decision and asked a friend for a priesthood blessing. He asked what the Lord had already told me, and I admitted that I could feel the presence of the Spirit but couldn't discern specific revelation. He then asked if I had ever asked the Lord to teach me what it felt like when He was speaking to me? I hadn't. But that night, I began to ask the Lord to teach me the language of revelation.
That was forty years ago, and over time I have come to know that what President Boyd K. Packer taught is true: That "if all you know is what you see with your natural eyes and hear with your natural ears, then you will not know very much."

“My teacher is going to be tardy,” said Cindy to herself as she sat on her front steps, watching teacher after teacher go into the school building. Today was the day that only teachers went to school. Teachers from all over the city were coming to a meeting. But where is my teacher? she wondered.
She had already seen smiling Miss Green. Now she waved to quiet Mr. Black, and he nodded his head at her.
“Have you seen Miss Martin yet?” called Mother.
“No,” replied Cindy. “I think my teacher’s going to be tardy!”
“Oh, dear,” said Mother.
Just then the school bell rang loud and long, as it always did at half past eight. A few teachers were still scurrying inside for the meeting. But where’s Miss Martin? Cindy wondered.
She stood up and walked down to the corner. She could see black cars, green cars, blue cars, tan cars, but she did not see her teacher’s little red car.
“Miss Martin,” said Cindy in Miss Martin’s you’d-better-listen voice, “Miss Martin, you are TARDY!”
Just then someone came into sight way down the street. It was Miss Martin running down the sidewalk with some papers in her hand.
Then just as Miss Martin reached Cindy’s corner she tripped and fell—WHUMPH! It was just what Cindy sometimes did on the playground. She ran to the corner, and there was poor Miss Martin, rubbing her ankle and looking very sad. And her papers were blowing all over the street!
Cindy hurried to pick them up. One paper went under a parked car. One was stuck on a tree branch. A cat grabbed one paper and was playing with it. Cindy finally gathered all the papers together and ran back to her teacher with them.
Miss Martin stood up, but the heel had come off one of her shoes. Her stockings were torn, and she began to rub her ankle again.
“Oh, Cindy,” said Miss Martin. “My car broke down. I have to give a report at the meeting so I started running to make sure I wouldn’t be late, and now look what’s happened.”
“Here are your papers,” said Cindy. “I’ll help you walk, Miss Martin; you can lean on me.” Cindy felt very important.
The teacher limped along for a few steps. Then she stopped. “Oh, dear, what am I going to do?” she questioned. “I can’t go to the meeting like this.”
Miss Martin looked at the heel that had come off her shoe. She looked at her torn stockings. Then she looked at Cindy.
“Let’s go to my house,” suggested Cindy. “My mom can help. And maybe I can get your heel back on.”
“I can give you some stockings,” said Cindy’s mother when she saw what had happened.
Cindy glued the heel back onto Miss Martin’s shoe with some quick-drying cement while Miss Martin changed her stockings. Mother helped Miss Martin put her papers in the right order again. And Cindy offered to help her into the schoolhouse.
So that’s how Cindy happened to go to the teacher’s meeting. It was a good thing Miss Martin was the last person on the program. She and Cindy arrived just in time!
Miss Martin’s report was all about good habits.
“One of the things children must learn is to be on time,” she said at the end of her talk. She looked straight at Cindy and smiled a big smile.
“That goes for teachers too!” said the tardy teacher.

Many years ago, a non-member father from the mainland called the Branch President of the University Branch in Honolulu asking for help with his non-member daughter who was a student in town. He had just found out that she was pregnant and had scheduled an abortion at 1:00 p.m. the next day. He did not believe that abortion was in the best interest of his daughter and the child. His friend told him to call someone in the LDS church. The Branch President called me and I was able to set an appointment to see this attractive young woman at 10:00 the next morning, just hours before the scheduled abortion.

During the first hour, she was adamant and determined that there was no way she would keep the pregnancy because she did not want anyone besides her parents to know that she was pregnant. There was no way she could be a single parent and no way could she place the child for adoption. She wanted nothing to do with the birthfather. She told me all the reasons why she just had to get that abortion and they all made sense to her. She was using great logic and reason. It would be the easiest thing to do and would get her right back on track with school.

In my heart and mind during that first hour, I fervently petitioned the Lord for help and asked that her heart be softened. I pleaded for help from her loved ones beyond the veil. Then something happened during the second hour. I felt the Spirit of the Lord fill my office. The young woman must have felt it too for her lips started to quiver and then tears came. She began to think about the child as a separate person from her. She began to think how she would feel after an abortion and the long term consequences of that choice.

At the end of our discussion, she humbly said, "I will give this child life." She chose to carry the baby to full term and then she placed the baby with an outstanding Latter-day Saint couple. Today that little boy is an active soccer player and he passes the sacrament on Sunday. What happened? This young woman listened to the Spirit and she obeyed. Her righteous decision brought her and her child great peace and joy.

Umana Effiong Umana, Birmingham Stake
Umana Effiong Umana served as deputy security manager at the Sandwell Aquatics Centre. When the security manager could not continue, he had the responsibility as the venue security manager of keeping five thousand staff and spectators in the venue safe and secure. He recounts his best experiences as meeting then Prince Charles, Prince Edward, and other VIPs.
Umana was able to assist an accessible athlete and they discussed the years of training for a competition that was less thanfive minutes long. Umana recounts, “This taught me some great lessons on planning for success.” He adds, “I really appreciate my membership in the Church because it gave me a platform and opportunity to build a faith that saw me through the entire experience.”

When I was 12, some of the girls in my new school invited me to a birthday party. It was the first party with these school friends I had been invited to. When I asked my parents if I could go, they said no because the party started too late.
A short time later, I got another invitation. I again asked my parents, but they again said no, and I got mad. Couldn’t I have any fun?
Then one of my closest friends planned a party. I was one of the first people she invited. The party started earlier than the others. It would be private and held near my home. I asked my parents for permission to go, and they said yes! I was excited.
The day arrived. As my parents drove me there, they said that they would pick me up at 10:00 p.m. When I got to the party, I found my girlfriends. Twenty minutes later, I still hadn’t seen the birthday girl.
A few minutes later, a young man came up to us and asked, “Have you brought money for the pisto?” He made a sign that let me know that “pisto” was beer. My girlfriends gave in at the request for money. I didn’t have any money with me, so I decided to go off with some other girls while these ones did their business.
Finally, the birthday girl arrived—an hour late. I congratulated her, and while we were talking, a big truck arrived. Five men got out and unloaded two crates of beer. Everyone crowded around and started handing out the beer. My girlfriends went off, and I was alone, watching those young people fighting to drink beer.
My girlfriends came over and offered me some. “No, thanks,” I told them. They again insisted. I again said no. My heart started beating fast, and I felt strange, like in a suspense movie where I was the main character and I was trapped in the middle of nowhere. Then I heard a car horn—it was my parents! I made my exit with a single good-bye and ran to the car.
I got in, breathing hard. I started thinking how heavy the environment felt where I had been. My mom asked if I was all right. “Yes,” I replied, “but something surprised me.”
“What surprised you?” asked my father.
“All my friends were drinking, and there I was, startled, waiting for something good to happen. How I wished for you both to get here, and now I’m here.” I looked at the car clock; it wasn’t yet 10:00.
My mom said, “That’s how parties are in the world. That was why we didn’t allow you to go to previous parties.”
That night when I prayed, I thanked my Heavenly Father that my parents had arrived early.
We members of the Church are in the world, but we are not like the world. I have learned that if I would have continued attending those parties, I might have fallen into breaking the Word of Wisdom and even the law of chastity. Many of my acquaintances have fallen into this, most of them outside of the Church, but even members of the Church themselves can reach the point of falling if they do not remain firm.
I feel happy with that decision I made to not drink. I thought that I would be made fun of afterwards, but my friends ended up with more respect for me because they know my standards. After that, I have not been afraid to say no to what I know will harm me.

When James R. Heap accepted his mission call, he was well aware of the years of college, medical school, and residency lying ahead. Still, he wasn’t worried that a mission break would hinder him professionally. Upon returning home he quickly made up for “lost” time. After three years of college he was accepted to medical school—the first year of medical school was applied to his graduation requirements—and he became a doctor of medicine at the age of 26, the same age as many others who had gone straight through. (Incidentally, he was serving in the branch presidency of a student branch at the time.) He then took a three-year residency at Scott Air Force Base Medical Center in Illinois and is presently established as a family practice specialist in Phoenix, Arizona.
During those years of internship and residency, he continued his Church service, fulfilling many responsible callings, among them executive secretary, Sunday School teacher, and high councilor.
Dr. Heap feels that his mission contributed in a large way to his success as a physician. When he returned to college, he found that his capacity for learning, and the speed with which he did it, were increased. More importantly, devoting his time and talents to full-time missionary work brought about an increased love and concern for others. “Intelligence alone is not enough,” he maintains. “Intelligence plus a Christlike love for mankind is the perfect combination for a successful and respected physician.”
In addition to his present responsibilities as husband, father of five, and physician, Dr. Heap still finds time to serve as the ward music chairman, ward organist and choir accompanist, family relations teacher, and temple preparation seminar teacher. He has done more, at the relatively young age of 30, than many do in a lifetime.
How does he manage it, one might wonder.
“The more I give, the more I’m blessed and the more I’m able to do effectively,” he answers. “Happiness has come into my life through service to my God, my family, and my fellowmen.”

Following my baptism on 20 August 1994, in the Makélékélé Branch, Brazzaville District, I asked myself the following question:
How should I prepare myself?
In Doctrine and Covenants 11:21 we read: “Seek not to declare my word, but first seek to obtain my word, and then shall your tongue be loosed; then, if you desire, you shall have my Spirit and my word, yea, the power of God unto the convincing of men.”
This inspired me to enroll in institute, where I studied the Book of Mormon. This enlightened my life, allowed me to gain a testimony of the restored gospel, to come unto Christ, and inspired me to make a decision to serve a full-time mission. Touched by the obedience shown by Nephi, I decided to do as he did in 1 Nephi 3:7: “I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them.”
I received my mission call a week before the civil war that broke out on 18 December 1998, in Congo-Brazzaville, my home country. I was 28 years old. I had to answer the Lord’s call which was extended to me through His servant, President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910-2008). I walked for 224 miles to get to the neighboring Democratic Republic of the Congo—the country in which I was called to serve my mission.
As we serve our fellow men, challenges can be turned into opportunities to grow. As I read the Book of Mormon and pondered over the scriptures, I came to discover that the Lord helped Nephi at all times. That gave me hope that the Lord would also help me if I made righteous decisions to serve Him through a full-time mission. In this experience, I moved forward freely, in spite of obstacles, with my mission call letter from President Hinckley, our then prophet. I felt the presence of Lord’s Spirit throughout my journey into the mission field.
It is important to know that a missionary is an instrument in the hands of the Lord, and that the purpose of a missionary is to “invite others to come unto Christ by helping them receive the restored gospel through faith in Jesus Christ and His Atonement, repentance, baptism, receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost, and enduring to the end.”1 We will have to reflect upon the following question: What can we do to prepare ourselves if we wish to achieve this purpose?
We all—parents, youth, and children—can and should prepare ourselves to serve as missionaries—whether we serve as ward or branch missionaries, plan to serve at a young age, or hope to be called later in life as a senior missionary. Worthy young men should—and women might—consider serving a full-time mission. Speak with your bishop or branch president. He can help guide the process of preparation for a full-time mission and understand parents’ responsibility in this work.
In Matthew 28:19–20 the Lord has said: “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost:
“Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world.”
This tells us that it is the responsibility of all those who follow Him to engage in missionary work. In Doctrine and Covenants 88:81 the Lord reiterated this declaration at the beginning of this dispensation: “It becometh every man who hath been warned to warn his neighbor.”
Sister Epiphanie Christel Mabiala was born in Pointe Noire, Republic of Congo. She and her husband are the parents of three children. She was called as an area organization adviser in July 2021.

George was only five years old, but he loved to help his mother. One morning she dressed him in his best velvet suit and asked him to take a message to President Brigham Young.
George was nervous as he walked to the prophet’s office. He was even more nervous as he pushed open the big gate and looked around for the prophet.
A guard stopped him and gruffly asked what he wanted. When George explained, the guard said that the prophet was too busy to see him.
George was frightened. While he was trying to decide what to do, a door opened and President Young walked out.
Laughing, the guard told the prophet that the child wanted to see him. President Young asked little George to come in!
President Young sat down, lifted the boy onto his knee, and visited with him. George was impressed with the respect and love the prophet showed him.
George Albert Smith always tried to treat people as kindly and respectfully as he had been treated by President Young. When he became the eighth President of the Church, he was already well known for his love and charity toward all people.

“Wherever I go, it’s the children that concern me. I remember a little six- or seven-year-old girl that I met in Ethiopia. She was collecting water from an irrigation ditch. It was full of silt and mud, but it was the only water available. She went down a very steep bank with a basin and a cutoff plastic bottle which she used as a dipper, and filled the basin with the black water. Then she carried it home on her head. God bless those dear little ones. How He must love them. And how heavy are the burdens that they have to carry. It tears at my heart.