Gospel Story Finder

I once met a young sailor who was a member of the crew of an atomic submarine based in Scotland. He was the only member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in the crew. The submarine would go on long trips taking many weeks. As this young Church member was assigned to his station on his first cruise, he found that other crewmen had covered the walls in his area with improper pictures of women with very little clothing on. This offended him. He took all the pictures down and destroyed them. He was conscious of the probable reaction of the other men but, nevertheless, had the courage to do what he thought he should. Not one picture was put up again. As a matter of fact, on that first cruise, he began to teach a Sunday School class attended by two or three of the other men. He learned an important lesson—generally speaking, others will show respect for one who has the courage of his or her convictions and isn’t afraid to do what he feels is right.

“Mama! Mama! I’m sorry I got all wet, but Jalen was blowing bubbles in the pool!” Jordan shouted.
Jordan’s mother raced outside to find his baby cousin, Jalen, lying purple and lifeless on the deck of the pool near the stairs. She gathered up his body and began to pat his back. Jalen began to cough up lots of water.
Jalen’s parents had been upstairs. They rushed downstairs and took him to the doctor. Jalen’s PaPa and Grandma went with them. Then everyone began to notice that Jordan was soaking wet from head to toe—clothes, shoes, and all.
“Jordan, you are so brave! You pulled Jalen out of the pool without even taking time to take off even your shoes,” his mother said. “What happened?”
“When I went outside, I saw Jalen in the middle of the pool, and he was blowing bubbles. He was so scary looking that I didn’t want to touch him. But I got in the water and pulled him to the stairs. I didn’t know what to do next, so I went to get you.”
Jordan’s Aunt Amberly went to help him find some dry clothes. She asked, “If Jalen was so scary that you didn’t want to touch him, how did you know what to do?”
“Something told me what to do,” he told his aunt.
“Do you know that the feeling you had was like a still, small voice telling you what to do? Do you remember from Primary who the still small voice is?”
“I know—it was the Holy Ghost,” Jordan said. “I’m glad I listened to Him.”
Jordan Jones, age 6 (as told by his Aunt Dawn)Tupelo, Mississippi

I have a blog where I write about modest fashion and style, because it can be challenging to dress modestly in a world where modesty is unpopular. I used to rely on my parents’ testimonies. I didn’t have my own until I was a young woman and started attending seminary. I found a desire to read the scriptures, and that’s when my faith began to grow. Now I feel in my heart for myself that the gospel of Jesus Christ is true.
Laura P., 18, Philippines

Not long after receiving my blessing, I came home from Sunday School. Our lesson had been about Joseph Smith’s First Vision, and I was wondering if it was really true. My father was leaving for a Church meeting. I stopped him and asked, “Dad, how do we really know that Joseph Smith had that vision?” My father put his arm around me, and we sat on the sofa in our living room. There he shared with me the Prophet Joseph’s account, and my father bore his own testimony of its truthfulness. That experience with my father burns in my heart today. Since then I have never doubted the Prophet Joseph’s account of his First Vision.

A letter and an old ashtray came to the office of the Presiding Bishop. The letter reads: “Dear Sir, I stole the enclosed ashtray from your hotel in 1965. After these many years, I want to apologize to you and ask for your forgiveness for my wrongdoing. Sincerely, (signature)
“P.S. I have enclosed a check that attempts to reimburse you for the ashtray.”
The check was in the amount of $26.00, one dollar for each year he had kept the ashtray. I can imagine that during those twenty-six years, each time he tapped his cigarette on the rim of that tray he suffered a twinge of conscience. I do not know that the hotel ever missed the ashtray, but the man who took it missed his peace of mind for more than a quarter of a century and finally ended up paying far more for the stolen tray than it was worth. Yes, honesty is the best policy.

At a critical moment in the battle of Waterloo, when everything depended on the steadiness of the soldiery, an anxious courier dashed into the presence of the Duke of Wellington, announcing that unless the troops were immediately relieved or withdrawn, they must yield before the impending assault of the French army. The Duke replied, “Stand firm!”
“But we shall perish!” remonstrated the officer.
“Stand firm!” again was the answer of the ironhearted Duke.
“You’ll find us there!” rejoined the courier, as he galloped away.
And, of course, the British were victorious that day as a result of such loyalty and determination (see Walter Baxendale, ed., Dictionary of Anecdote, Incident, Illustrative Fact, New York: Thomas Whittaker, 1889, p. 225).

May 26, 1853 I went to Fourchu, a place 6 or 7 miles from Gabarouse. On my way along the beach I saw a large duck on the waves, picking among the kelp. This was a desolate place, no houses for 6 or 7 miles. The Spirit said to me, “You are going among strangers. No Saints there. Take the bird with you.” So I sat down right where the wave broke and the bird floated straight towards me, picking among the kelp and sea weed. When it got close to the shore it put its head under its wing, so I jumped and caught it. It was lively enough then and tried to get away. So when I got to Fourchu (6) I went to a house, asked if that was Mr. Cann’s. They said yes. I told them I had come over from Gabarouse to preach the Gospel to them. I had forgotten the duck. I then happened to notice them looking at it. Says I, “Here is a bird. I saw it out on the water and I thought I would bring it along, that it might be good to eat.” Says he, “Is it hurt?” “No, Sir.” I handed it to him. Heexamined it very close and said it was all right. It was cooked. We ate it. It was fat and good. A few came in. We had a meeting. The sectarian minister had poisoned the minds of the people, but Mr. Cann and family treated me very kindly … and spoke favorably to others of me.

We all need to know what it means to be honest. Honesty is more than not lying. It is truth telling, truth speaking, truth living, and truth loving. John, a nine-year-old Swiss pioneer child who was in one of the handcart companies, is an example of honesty. His father put a chunk of buffalo meat in the handcart and said it was to be saved for Sunday dinner. John said, “I was so very hungry and the meat smelled so good to me while pushing at the handcart that I could not resist. I had a little pocket knife. … Although I expected a severe whipping when father found it out, I cut off little pieces each day. I would chew them so long that they got white and perfectly tasteless. When father came to get the meat he asked me if I had been cutting off some of it. I said ‘Yes. I was so hungry I could not let it alone.’ Instead of giving me a scolding or whipping, father turned away and wiped tears from his eyes.”

I always wanted to go to Africa and see the animals, and finally that opportunity came. …
We stopped at a water hole to watch the animals come to drink. It was very dry that season and there was not much water, really just muddy spots. When the elephants stepped into the soft mud the water would seep into the depression and the animals would drink from the elephant tracks.
The antelope, particularly, were very nervous. They would approach the mud hole, only to turn and run away in great fright. I could see there were no lions about and asked the guide why they didn’t drink. His answer, and this is the lesson, was “Crocodiles.”
I knew he must be joking and asked him seriously, “What is the problem?” The answer again: “Crocodiles.”
“Nonsense,” I said. “There are no crocodiles out there.” …
He could tell I did not believe him and determined, I suppose, to teach me a lesson. We drove to another location where the car was on an embankment above the muddy hole where we could look down. “There,” he said. “See for yourself.”
I couldn’t see anything except the mud, a little water, and the nervous animals in the distance. Then all at once I saw it!—a large crocodile, settled in the mud, waiting for some unsuspecting animal to get thirsty enough to come for a drink. …
The guide was kinder to me than I deserved. My “know-it-all” challenge to his first statement, “crocodiles,” might have brought an invitation, “Well, go out and see for yourself!”
I could see for myself that there were no crocodiles. I was so sure of myself I think I might have walked out just to see what was there. Such an arrogant approach could have been fatal! But he was patient enough to teach me.

His young life is full of memories. They begin on the island of Timor, several hundred miles north of Australia. His Chinese parents were working in the Portuguese colony there (Domingos is a Portuguese name) when it was invaded by Indonesia. The men fled to Portugal. Women and children escaped to Australia. “My mother, myself, and some other relatives came on one of two boats that got away,” Domingos explains. “We were lucky to survive.”
Domingos’s father later joined them in Darwin. Thanks to hard work, the family prospered. Two more boys were born. Domingos learned English. He discovered sports—cricket, karate, tennis, soccer, handball, volleyball. He excelled in school, in music, and in art. He worked in his uncle’s restaurant.
One day his aunt, a newly baptized Latter-day Saint, introduced his family to the missionaries. Soon the Liaos family joined the Church. “We were active for about a year,” Domingos says. “Then my parents stopped going. I kept on for a while; then I started to play cricket on Sundays. But my conscience kept nagging me that I should be in church.”
It was at this time that Domingos’s grandfather, who lived in Melbourne, suffered a stroke. He wasn’t expected to live. Domingos, 16, felt compelled to pray. “I told Heavenly Father that if he would give Grandfather a chance, I would devote my life to the Church. But I didn’t just wait for him to recover. When we returned home, I returned to church. I’ve been taught that if you promise something, you should do it.”
Grandpa did get better. And by the time he did, Domingos was going to church, not just to keep a promise, but because he truly believed it was the right thing to do.
By the time Domingos turned 18, his Church activity began to irritate his father.
“Dad thought seminary was getting in the way of my schoolwork, so he banned me from getting up early to go. I wanted to honor him, so I quit going. But I still did seminary at home. Then he didn’t want that either, so I put that away.
“Then he would find me reading my scriptures and think I hadn’t done my homework, even though my grades were good. One time he grabbed my scriptures and threw them in the rubbish bin. I had spent the last two years reading them and marking them, and they are really precious to me. The next morning I was able to get them back, but I had to give them to the branch president for safekeeping.”
It wasn’t long before Domingos’s father banned him from everything related to Church activity—scripture study, Mutual activities, home teaching, and, finally, Sunday meetings.
“Even though I was 18 and legally my own person, my first reaction was to obey. Really. You want to obey your father because he is your father. But I knew I couldn’t break my promise to Heavenly Father to attend church.
“Dad said if I went that Sunday, not to worry about coming back. So I packed my bags. My prayers were very sincere that night. The next morning, when he saw me dressed up, he was furious.”
Domingos left, but his parents came to the chapel and found him. They reached an agreement that he could attend every other Sunday. “I wasn’t happy with it, but it was better than nothing,” he says.
The next time he got ready for church, his father again told him that if he went, he could never return. “The second time was just as bad, probably worse. I’d been waiting to receive my patriarchal blessing, and the patriarch, who can come only about once a year, had come from far away. I got there for the appointment, but my father came at the same time. I had to go home and missed my blessing.”
The third time that his father confronted him in a similar way, Domingos left home and moved in with his grandmother. “Eventually my mum came and said my father was all right and wouldn’t get angry again. So I came back.”
While at his grandmother’s home, Domingos had developed a desire to serve a full-time mission. “I prayed, and the answer was very certain that I should go when I turned 19. From then on, my mind was made up—I just needed to prepare.”
He found that if he completed his first year of study, the University of the Northern Territory would agree to give him two years off to serve. But he would have to carry an even harder class load for a few months before he left. “My coordinator actually encouraged me and said the mission would be a good experience,” Domingos says. Domingos continued something he had done since high school—telling fellow students about the steps of repentance and the plan of salvation.
He intensified his scripture study, memorizing many passages. “The scriptures brought me peace,” he says. “They reminded me of the things I should be doing.”
He joined the full-time missionaries when they gave discussions. He often bore his testimony. He kept a journal, writing in it every day. His Church leaders interviewed him, found him worthy, and sent in his missionary application.
Then one day, this time when he returned from church, his father ordered him out of the house for the fourth time. “It was pretty final,” Domingos says. “He was not pleased with my plans for a mission. He said if I went, I wouldn’t be his son anymore.”
Domingos’s branch president, Michael Kuhn, invited him to live in his home until the mission call arrived.
Finished with his schoolwork, Domingos filled his days with prayer, uplifting music, Church activities, missionary work, and scripture study. Sometimes he would read the scriptures all day long.
And then the letter came: “You are called to labor in the Hong Kong Mission.” Domingos returned home for a short time to try to make peace with his family before he left. “Mainly because they knew they could not change my mind, they yielded,” he says. Before he left, the family went out to dinner together and took lots of farewell photos.
Letters written from the Missionary Training Center and from the mission field reflect the joy that quickly followed:
—“At the airport I was able to meet one of the missionaries who taught me, Elder (Hoyt) Skabelund, and his wife and baby and parents. I am slowly learning Cantonese. The people in the MTC are wonderful.”
—“I’ve received two letters from my mother. Everything is going well at home. They are being blessed greatly, and they know it! My family and relatives are now happy that I am serving a mission. Surely God is a God of miracles!”
—“I have done my first street display, talking to everyone who goes by. I have taught the six discussions in Cantonese.”
—“Now I have been transferred to Macau, a Portuguese colony neighbouring the coast of China. I am pretty lucky because not many missionaries get to serve here. We are teaching an investigator, and he will be baptized. I know that God called me here to do a special work.”
—“Every inconvenience was worth overcoming to read the Book of Mormon. Every insult was worth swallowing to keep the Sabbath holy. Every moment was worth waiting for to kneel in private prayer, every pain worth enduring to attend church. Every blow was worth taking, every torment worth suffering, every tear worth shedding to come on this mission.”
Today in Macau, Elder Liao looks out the window of his missionary apartment and sees a promised land.
“When I decided to go on a mission,” he says, “I knew there would be strong currents against me. I didn’t really know the dangers lurking in the water, what might try to sting me or to swallow me up. I was thinking only about making it. Now here I am, and I know that it’s worth it.”
And he is eager to build a bridge to help others, including his family, to cross over to the other side.

Some years ago Elder Marion D. Hanks told about a group of Boy Scouts who went cave exploring. The narrow trail was marked with white stones and lighted in sections as they went. After about an hour they came to a huge, high dome. Below it lay an area called the Bottomless Pit, so called because the floor of the cave had collapsed into a deep, gaping hole. It was hard not to jostle each other on that narrow path. Pretty soon, one of the bigger boys accidentally pushed a smaller boy into a muddy area away from the light. Terrified as he lost his footing, he screamed in the darkness. The ranger heard his cry of terror and came quickly. The boy let out another cry as the beam of the ranger’s light showed that he was right on the very edge of the pit. (See Improvement Era, June 1957, 444–51.)
In this story, the boy was rescued. But this does not always happen. So many times young people go to the very edge or even beyond it. With only a precarious toehold, it is easy to be seriously injured or even die.

During my last semester as an undergraduate student, while watching the South Africa Area conference broadcast, I was touched by the teachings on marriage and family and immediately made up my mind to consider marriage. That same evening, during a family council, I shared with my family that I would be getting married. My beloved mother and my brother were delighted with this announcement, but I still hadn’t found my future wife. A few weeks later I began to pray and to seek a spouse. After pondering and much looking, I came across a young woman called Agnès Kamuanya, who later became my dear eternal wife.

This sister loved me, and I loved her. She was preparing to serve a mission, and I promised her that we wouldn’t start our life together until we were married in the holy temple, which pleased her even more. In the meantime, the temple was under construction, and we didn’t know when it would be ready for us to be sealed. But we were facing several challenges, including getting the dowry and starting a home. To achieve this, we needed to have the means. I told my dear fiancée that I truly love her, but I don’t have the necessary resources to pay the dowry. She replied that she was aware of that, and that we should pray to achieve our desires. She set a fast day on a certain Thursday, and we fasted with the aim of finding a job and getting married.

I scheduled the wedding date on my phone’s calendar. A few weeks after our fast, two job offers came in, I applied and successfully passed the tests and interviews and I was hired. I signed my contract for six months. I had to work and save some income from my job to prepare for the marriage. My priesthood leaders accompanied me to my in-laws.

Being in the process of getting married, I was expecting that my in-laws would give me a dowry list; my father-in-law was a Church leader, and when my family asked him for the list, he kindly replied, “Go prepare and bring with you what you will get, we are not selling our daughter”.

What a wonderful surprise for my family! We prepared the dowry and presented it to our in-laws, and then organized our engagement at the civil registry office. Meanwhile, the temple building work was nearing completion. We got married and stayed for a few days in our respective family homes, waiting to be sealed before leaving for our new home as I had promised my beloved wife.

My father-in-law was under a lot of pressure from other family members as to why he hadn’t given the dowry list. Yet he successfully explained the importance of marriage to every member of the family.

In the run-up to the wedding, I took the money I’d set aside for the wedding party and allocated it to going to the temple. We made the decision to totally self-fund our trip to the temple. We set an appointment with the temple in writing, and we traveled to Kinshasa in heavy rain. I couldn’t stop excitedly telling my wife, “We’re going to the Lord’s house and fulfilling our engagement promises”.

On the day of our sealing, while we were having photos taken with the family, I received instant payment from a client who owed me. Long before going to the holy temple, I worked off my contract and applied for a new position. After we were sealed, I was invited for the job tests and interviews, but was unable to go as I had no extra savings for the return ticket.

Three days after the sealing, I received a call from my boss asking if I was willing to work on a new project in Kamako by the border with Angola. After prayer, my dear wife told me that I had to take the job. The savings I had, which did not allow for a return ticket home by plane, were enough to cover the cost of my journey by road to my new job location, without having to take the test and interview. This was made possible by the grace of the Lord. So having a job without going through interviews was one of the first blessings received from the holy temple.

From this experience, I learned that the doctrine of marriage was instrumental in helping me enter into marriage as I prioritized marriage in the holy temple rather than a dowry drawn up on a list. It helped me understand that marriage is not a discussion about what to pay in exchange for a wife, but rather obedience to God’s commandment. I also learned that the Lord blesses each of us depending on our desire and faith in Him.

Today, as I look at the Lord’s blessings in our home, our precious children and our families, I am reminded of this promise, The Lord honors those who honor Him. It is my testimony to every young man and woman as they prepare for marriage and my invitation to every parent as they marry off their child, whether a Latter-day Saint or not, the Lord’s doctrine on marriage must come first and take precedence over our customs.

We love the Lord.
I love my sweet eternal wife. I love both our families and I love our eternal children.

When I look back into my life, 13 years ago, I remember the times I used to wander aimlessly with loneliness seeking for some kind of inspiration. And that’s the time when the Lord showed me this true church. I started coming to church and was baptized on October 16, 2005. Later I learned about the gospel regularly and followed it consistently, which helped me make wise choices in many aspects of my life, and this helped me grow spiritually.

People have asked me, “Why do you do this every week?” My answer is that my family started this habit a long time ago. I’m the youngest of 12 kids, and for as long as I can remember I’ve seen my mom coming home from the early Saturday morning temple session. She promised Heavenly Father that if she ever lived near a temple she would go often (for her, once a week), and she has kept her promise ever since my family moved close to a temple many years ago.

I was in the hospital, waiting to have surgery the following day, and my husband stopped to check on me on his way home from work. He told me that Jackie, our favorite baby-sitter, had taken our three little girls to the ward picnic with her own family. Five minutes later, Jackie’s father was in the room to tell us that our youngest girl had fallen off the see-saw at the picnic and was downstairs in the emergency room having a badly cut chin sewn back together .
Meanwhile at the picnic, our six-year-old daughter looked around her and suddenly realized that most of the members of her family weren’t there. The only sister who remained at the picnic with her was playing with the children who attended her Sunday School class. The park was unfamiliar to her, and with every passing moment it grew darker. Many feelings filled her mind, and suddenly her cries were heard over all the festivities. She knew exactly what she needed: “I want my home teacher!” Within minutes, she was on Brother Braden’s kindly lap, and the crisis was over.

Eddie and Christina (left) became friends with Brent and Jessica (center) and their family when they moved into the ward. Brent was later baptized by Eddie.
When a new family moved into their ward, Eddie and Christina Brouse decided to get to know them. After church, Christina approached Brent Vickers and struck up a conversation. Soon, Brent’s girlfriend, Jessica Espinoza, joined them. Because they both had newborn sons, Christina and Jessica instantly bonded.
Eddie said, “Brent is this tall guy that some people might find intimidating, but I just felt that he was such a nice guy. I remember thinking that this is someone that I really want to get to know better.”
As the Brouse and the Espinoza/Vickers families became friends, they often invited each other over for dinner. One evening, Brent and Jessica explained Brent’s history with the gospel. Brent had received the missionary lessons a few years prior because Jessica was already a member of the Church, and though he had enjoyed meeting with the elders, he decided not to be baptized at that time.
With the encouragement of Jessica and the Brouse family, Brent decided to meet with the missionaries again. He progressed far enough in the missionary lessons that he and Jessica decided that they needed to be married. The Brouse family was supportive of this decision and continued to support Brent as he met with the missionaries. Brent and Jessica were married in July 2019 by their bishop, Eddie Brouse.
Taking safety precautions during the COVID-19 pandemic, the families were able to get together again. Jessica mentioned to the Brouses that Brent thought that he was ready to be baptized. Brent’s smile confirmed this statement.
Christina said, “We immediately called the sister missionaries and told them that Brent wanted to be baptized. That was on a Wednesday, and by Saturday, he was baptized.”
She continued, “On the day of his baptism, Brent gave us the biggest hug. I remember being so grateful that they had allowed us to be a part of this journey with their family.”
Shortly after Brent was baptized, Jessica expressed interest in going to the temple. After talking with ward leaders and participating in their ward’s temple preparation class, Jessica was able to receive her endowment in the Orlando Florida Temple after COVID-19 restrictions lifted.
Jessica’s parents were also able to renew their temple recommends and be in the temple with Jessica. Jessica and Brent’s older son Eli was also able to receive the Aaronic Priesthood.
As Brent started taking the new-member lessons and participating in family history work, he was able to find the names of his family members to take to the temple. Brent’s father recently passed away, so Brent is preparing to do his father’s temple work.
Jessica prepared the family history work for her biological father and other family members to make sure they received their temple ordinances. Jessica’s son Eli was proxy for his grandfather’s baptism.
The Brouse family exemplified how natural it can be to share the gospel. The Brouses’ daughter Abbie said, “Being friends with them first was what helped us to share the gospel with them.” Christina agrees, “Talking to them about the gospel was so easy because we love them so much, and we wanted nothing more than to see them get closer to the Lord.”

I was a new member of the Church, a new wife, and now a new mother. It was fast Sunday, and our tiny daughter was about to receive a name and a blessing. I had never seen a baby blessing before because we lived in a ward with few young families. I didn’t know what to expect. Yet I felt by the Spirit that this was something very special and significant.
My husband, joined by other reverent priesthood holders, carefully cradled our precious little daughter. The sweetness of the Spirit filled me with joy. Tears ran down my cheeks, and myriad impressions flooded my mind. I knew I was only beginning to glimpse the depth and breadth of Heavenly Father’s magnificent gift of love to us—the priesthood.
Shortly after my baptism, my husband and I were married. His parents were members of the Church and his home was centered in the gospel, but I knew his testimony was not well rooted. I was not worried, though. My young faith brimmed with optimism. I would simply love him and be patient and prayerful.
During the months I carried our firstborn, I felt as mothers do—so close to my little one, so full of the wonder at this new life within me. When our daughter was born, my bond with her had become a cord of love, strong and sweet.
But I was concerned for my husband. He hadn’t had the blessing of this intense closeness to our daughter that I had enjoyed. Of course he loved her, but I wondered and worried about whether a strong bond would develop between him and her. I worried as I spent time nursing her, bathing her, and holding her, while most of my husband’s time was occupied with working to support our family.
Now, a few weeks after her birth, there we were in our chapel. A miracle was unfolding before my eyes and in my heart. My tentative husband humbly smiled at his brethren in the circle, his eyes full of light and a glint of tears. In return, love and support flowed from those brethren to him as they placed hands on shoulders and helped cradle our baby, forming a little circle bathed in pure and sacred love. As my husband began the blessing, I heard trembling in his voice, and I knew that he was feeling the Lord’s power and the honor of holding His priesthood.
I felt a great love welling up in him for our little girl, and I knew he had tried hard to prepare himself to give her the blessing Heavenly Father intended for her. My joy was full as I realized that he now felt tightly bonded to our daughter. It was a bond that was never to weaken.

I guess I’ve really changed a lot, for the better, I hope. I got into a big argument with Jared today, though. I know I should show more love toward him, but it’s hard when he acts as aggravating as he did today. He came storming into the house, shouting, “I hate girls!”
“Why?” I asked.
“They’re stuck up, that’s why! The Church leaders are always telling us fellows that we should get married, but how can we when all the girls think they’re too good for us?”
I felt like hitting him. “I like that! I spent all last year losing weight and trying to make myself attractive like President Kimball tells us to, but do you think guys are swooning at my feet? No! The trouble with you and all your snobby friends is that you only want to take the glamorous girls out. They already have plenty of dates. You never pay any attention to the girls who have to try hard to be pretty!”
He considered that. “Don’t all girls try hard to be pretty?”
I thought for a moment. “I guess we all just try to be our best.”
And, as far as I know, that’s the truth.

Although it was the middle of Guatemala’s rainy season, the sun was out in full force at noon when they arrived in Cahabón, about halfway home.
“We’ll stop for soft drinks here,” President Andersen said as he pulled over next to the town square. “This town is tradition-oriented and wouldn’t let the protestant missionaries construct a chapel. I want you to meet the lady who owns the cafe; she has a special spirit. She will join the Church someday.”
The elders wanted to look around awhile before going into the cafe. The rest went inside and talked with the owner while they enjoyed their soft drinks. Several minutes passed, but the missionaries did not come in. “I wonder where they are,” President Andersen said.
They finished their drinks, paid the owner, and walked outside. There the mystery of the missing missionaries was solved.
Seated on a step, Elder Bringhurst was addressing about 50 Indians in their tongue, telling them about their ancestors. He held a copy of the Book of Mormon as he spoke.
In the following 20 minutes the missionaries explained the origin of the book, and bore their testimonies. The Indians seemed impressed, and several invited the missionaries to return another time to tell them more. Elder Bringhurst assured them that someone would return with the book and tell them many important things about themselves and about God.
Later, as they drove homeward, President Andersen said, “The Indians want to know about the book of their ancestors. We have something no one else can give them, the gospel. We have the religion of their forefathers and we tell them so.”

For example, when we were leaving Zimbabwe, the plan was for my dad to go to Afghanistan for a year. The rest of my family would live with my mom’s parents. However, right before my dad left, we found out they weren’t sending anyone into Afghanistan for a while. That meant we wouldn’t be moving to live with family. As happy as I was to have my dad, this abrupt change was really hard for all of us.
I was mad, and unfortunately I took my anger out on Heavenly Father for a while. I remember praying one night and basically just yelling about why I was mad. But despite my anger, He helped me eventually humble myself and feel peace. It was like He was saying, “Whatever happens, good can come of it. Just trust me. I know it’s hard right now, but it’s all going to work out in the end.” I was able to calm down and think about things. I needed to learn to trust Heavenly Father and be OK with things not going according to my plan, because His plan is always better.