Gospel Story Finder

“What is this yucky stuff?”
My little brother’s honest question reflected what our turned-up noses asked when Mom put the lima bean and corn dish on the table.
“Succotash,” Mom replied. “The Pilgrims survived on it. They got the recipe from local Indians but decided to leave out the dog meat. So did I. We also have corn bread and pumpkin pie. Want some?”
So this is what Sylvester the Cat means when he says “Sufferin’ succotash,” I thought. It makes a lot more sense to me now. Poking my fork into the concoction I wondered why Mom had suddenly gone pioneer with the food storage.
It didn’t take long to find out. Dad announced that he had lost his job, and we would be living on our food storage for a while. I envisioned weeks of whole wheat porridge, fried rice, and bean or lentil soup.
Our next family home evening was kind of scary when Dad and Mom went over our expenses and explained that all cash and savings would have to go for the house payment and utilities. Tears came to my kindergarten brother’s eyes when it was announced that no extra things could be purchased. He looked down at his shoes and whispered, “I guess I can’t get a book club book, huh?”
I didn’t dare ask if I would have to miss the prom and the band trip. I was afraid of the answer, so I just looked at my shoes too.
The only fun part of the evening was planning that month’s menus. It was comforting to see lots of home-canned fruits and vegetables on Mom’s storage list. Green beans, peaches, pear sauce, and apple sauce made me take a grateful look back at our family’s bumpy road to self-sufficiency.
All this was good training for dealing with my dad’s unemployment. Our help in tending the garden, in canning, and in eating what Mom cooked all helped get us through. I was even able to go to the prom and to go on our band trip to Lake Okiboji.

President Kimball’s visit to Australia was the second official visit of a president of the Church. The first was President David O. McKay in 1955. When President McKay was in Brisbane, Australia, the mission president one day took him out to see the city. During the course of the day they were looking across the Brisbane River into a new suburb which was known as Chermside. President McKay said to the mission president, “Do we have any missionaries in that area?” The mission president said, “No.” President McKay said, “Send the missionaries in, for the people are ready.” Missionaries were sent into the area and they enjoyed tremendous success. Today Chermside is part of the Brisbane Fourth Ward of the Brisbane Australia Stake.

Marisol Pedraza Espinosa, now Sister Pedraza, was 26 years old when she received a life-altering diagnosis of ovarian cancer. A young woman from Tizayuca, Hidalgo, Mexico, she dreamt of completing a master’s degree in tourism business management and starting her own travel agency. However, her aspirations were put on hold when she experienced severe pain in her right ovary, leading to a medical consultation that revealed a 15-centimeter tumor requiring immediate removal.
After undergoing various tests and surgery to remove the tumor, she thought the worst was over. Unfortunately, that was not the case. “Twenty days after the surgery, when I received the pathology results, the doctor informed me that the tumor was malignant—a high-grade cancer with only one year left to live,” she says with tears in her eyes.
The bleak prognosis sent Sister Pedraza searching for a second opinion at several hospitals, only to receive even worse news. “They told me that during the tumor removal, there was a problem, and the cancer had metastasized. They had to perform another surgery to remove my right ovary and uterus, so I underwent many additional tests before the new surgery.”
Confused, devastated, and terrified by this new reality, Sister Pedraza was on the verge of losing hope. She thought, “Why me? No one in my family has ever had cancer. I’m too young to die, and I won’t be able to have children anymore!’”
During this difficult time, her family’s unwavering support became her refuge. “My mother accompanied me to all my medical appointments, and my brothers and father kept an eye on me.”
In the midst of her struggle, Sister Pedraza’s life took an unexpected turn when she met Keyth Suderio, a former missionary. Keyth taught her that through the priesthood in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, she could receive a blessing of health. Although she wasn’t entirely clear about what they were offering, she was willing to try anything to regain her health.
“Sidney Suderio, Keyth’s dad, gave me the blessing; his wife, Rosangela Ribeiro, and daughter, Keyth Suderio were there. I sat in the middle of the room, he placed his hands on my head, and I felt so much peace. As I listened to every word that came out of his mouth… I felt hopeful that everything was going to be okay,” she says.
A few days later, as she prepared for her upcoming surgery, the gynecological oncologist delivered astonishing news: her medical tests had shown no signs of cancer in her body. Overwhelmed by the good news, Sister Pedraza cried with gratitude when she saw the miracle that was happening in her life.
It’s been two years since Sister Pedraza has been cancer-free. Seeing God’s hand in her life made her interested in learning about the Church and she joined a year and six months ago. “I wanted to thank God for a new life and decided to get closer to Him and to serve Him,” she says with great emotion.
“It wasn’t in my plans to become a missionary; however, I felt a strong impression to leave everything behind and go out and invite people to come unto Christ. To let them know that Heavenly Father loves all of us and to share my testimony that miracles do not cease. I want to help people strengthen their faith and remind them that we have a loving Heavenly Father who wants the best for us.”
That’s how she came to serve in the Dominican Republic Santo Domingo West Mission.
“I know that Jesus Christ lives, I know that He healed me, and I know, without any doubt, that through the blessing of health that I received by priesthood power, the cancer disappeared. I know that my Heavenly Father loves me and gave me a new chance to live,” she concludes, with a twinkle in her eyes and strength in her words.

What do you do when there is only one park in your town and 1,875 people to share it?
“That’s easy,” says Tyson Ekker, a 14-year-old teacher. “You make another one.”
And that’s exactly what the youth of the Huntington Utah Stake, who live in the small towns of Huntington, Cleveland, and Elmo, did. For their youth conference service project, they decided to use donated supplies to restore an old, run-down, vacant park, creating a second facility for people in their communities to enjoy.
Just off the highway was an old baseball park covered with salt grass and weeds. The only hint that the lot had ever been used for baseball was the old backstop on the corner. But in three short hours the entire scene changed. The park buzzed with more than 70 youth, either carrying shovels or paint brushes. It was the first week of summer vacation, the first day of youth conference, and already hot outside—an ideal day for fun summer activities.
There was no stopping these youth from serving. “We’re making a difference for the little children, for the whole community,” said Rachel Humphrey, 17, of Huntington. “And that makes it all worth it.”
Some teens scattered sand for the volleyball court, while others dug holes for trees, a sprinkler system, and a drinking fountain. Some picked up trash around the park and cleared fresh lanes for the baseball field. Others painted semitrailer tires with bright colors, to transform them into children’s playground equipment. Of course, they had to try their hands at making sand castles with the fresh sand, and lots of paint was “accidentally” dripped on clean faces.
But however much the park will mean to the community, it will also mean a lot to those who helped restore it, for this service project affected the Huntington Stake youth directly. “Not only have we helped others, but now we have a place to play baseball and volleyball,” Tyson said.
“Someday, when I have children, maybe I will bring them here to play and show them what the youth, working together, were able to do,” said Elayna Luke, 14, of Huntington.
Everyone hoped their efforts would be contagious throughout the community. “I hope people will see that someone cares,” said Kelly Kay, 15, of Lawrence.
“And then maybe others will help also,” said Natalie Stream, 14, of Huntington. “It’s just like if you clean up your yard, people around you are likely to clean up theirs too.”
The park was coming together quickly, but everyone knew there was no way the park could be completely finished in just one morning. “We’ve created an ongoing service project for ourselves,” said Clint Oveson, 15, of Cleveland, as he shoveled dirt into a tire. “It’s even a service project our children can continue to work on.”
The Huntington community will no longer have to plan all its events around one park’s schedule. There’s now another park in town. All because the youth of Huntington Stake decided the community needed another place to play ball, and they weren’t going to wait for someone else to make it happen.

The summer before my senior year of high school, my family moved from northern Virginia, USA, near Washington, D.C., to a small town in California. This was not an easy transition. I was looking forward to finishing high school with my friends. At 17 years old, I felt like my life was over!
My senior year wasn’t easy. I felt lonely a lot. But during that time, I learned the importance of finding good friends who support me and respect my beliefs. That has been helpful to me ever since.

Megan, 18; Ethan, 19; and Romy, 17, also have something else in common: They all sing in their ward choir in Florida, USA. And recently the choir gave them an even greater opportunity to share their love for music by participating in an Interfaith Music Festival.
And one of the things all the faith groups have in common is music. The Interfaith Music Festival would be a great opportunity for believers to unite in praising God. The ward choir would be one of about half a dozen groups representing congregations throughout the city.
“There was a bell choir, a vocal duet, a large choir, a small choir, a flute-and-piano duet, and so forth,” Megan explains. “Every group was asked to do two numbers.”
Megan continues, “We wanted to make sure that what we sang would let people know that we believe in Jesus Christ and also that we believe in Heavenly Father. We wanted to create a feeling of worship.”
The choir decided on two numbers they had previously performed, “Great Things and Small Things,” by Steven Kapp Perry, and “Sacraments and Symbols,” by Janice Kapp Perry, Steven Kapp Perry, and Lynne Perry Christofferson.
“The first song is upbeat. It offers the assurance that through God, you can do anything, whether it’s relatively minor or very significant,” Ethan says. “The second song has a deep reverence. It’s almost like a chant, and it creates a real feeling of worship.”
As they prepared to sing, Ethan used a method he has used before. “I try to prioritize becoming immersed in the song,” he says. “I find that when I’m able to pay attention to the meaning of the song, I’m able to enjoy it better. Of course I make sure I can sing it properly, but I find that it’s easier for me to do that when I’m in tune with the message that it’s trying to convey. I like to put an emphasis on spiritual preparation.”
“We still had to sing in sacrament meeting and practice for other things, too,” Megan says. “But we knew the importance of the interfaith event, so we made sure the pieces were ready. We worked hard on them.”
For the second number, the 14-member choir shrunk down to a double quartet. “We would rehearse on Tuesdays, before Young Men and Young Women,” Megan says. “It made me think of the song for a whole week, for a whole month, really. I don’t usually do this, but I found the song on YouTube and kept playing it over and over. I wanted to improve. I wanted us to sing so well that we would touch other people.”
Ethan, Megan, and Romy agree that all the rehearsing had an added benefit. “When you repeat songs over and over,” Romy says, “the messages of the songs stay in your mind and in your heart.”
The choir performs at the Interfaith Music Festival.
That presence in their minds and hearts was clearly evident as the choir members sang. “Both songs were just beautiful,” Romy says. “The audience got real quiet and everyone felt the Spirit as those songs were being sung. We all felt united.”
“The first song has always been a happy song for me,” Megan says. “I feel like it had that impact on people at the festival. I had a fun time singing it and I hope they all enjoyed it as well. And the second song, the voices blended so well. I think everyone who listened to it felt a spirit of respect and awe for God.”
At the end of the evening, Megan continues, “We were able to talk with participants and audience members. I know people were asking our choir director about the songs we sang—’What kind of music was that?’ or ‘Where did you find that arrangement?’ We were able to interact with each other and talk about the music we all shared. I felt like I was able to understand them more through their songs, and that they understood us better because of ours. Music is like a window to your soul.”

I can understand in some small part how joyful the Lord must be when His servants obey without murmuring. Recently, my dear wife and I participated in a meeting during which our responsibilities were to be explained. We had no idea, at that time, what our assignment would be or where we would be serving. I was privately advised that we would be called to serve in West Africa. I was surprised and delighted with the assignment, but there passed through my mind the thoughts that would inevitably arise in the mind of my companion of almost 39 years. How would she receive this assignment? I knew she would agree to go. In all our years together, she has never refused a call from the Lord. But what would be the feelings of her heart?

As I sat next to her, she discerned in my eyes that I knew our assignment. She said, “Well, where is it?” I simply said, “Africa.” Her eyes brightened, and she said with cheerful heart, “Isn’t that great!” My joy was full.

Recently, Brother Shamola was thrilled to receive additional information about his ancestors from an oral interview that was conducted in his grandmother’s village in Homa Bay, on the western shores of Kenya.
The interview was given by a family member and recorded for future reference. It gave him information about seven generations of his family, and he was able to identify many ancestors of whom he was previously unaware. He has already submitted several of their names to the temple and plans to submit many more in the future.

Several years ago, my husband and I qualified to run the Boston Marathon. The night before the marathon, in an effort to visualize what it would be like to complete the race, we went to downtown Boston about a mile from the finish line. There in the quiet of the evening we laced up our running shoes and ran that last mile to the finish. As we crossed the line we held our hands victoriously high in the air and pretended that we had won the race! We imagined thousands of observers in the stands cheering for us. The next day we ran the race. Twenty-six point two miles (41.3 km) is a challenging distance. There are hills that are called “Heartbreak” for a very good reason. The entire time I was running those hills, I kept in mind that finish line and what it had felt like the night before to cross the line victorious. That vision of the finish line helped me to finish that marathon in a pelting, cold New England storm.

Elder Phil and Sister Brenda Frandsen are one such couple. They served in Kaohsiung, Taiwan. In addition to his other responsibilities, Elder Frandsen served as a counselor to the mission president. The following brief interview with the Frandsens illustrates the thoughts and feelings of many couples and may provide insight to those considering missionary service.
Sister Frandsen: “We had always talked about serving a mission after our children were grown. When the time came, it was hard to agree on where we would go and what we would do. After much discussion, Elder Frandsen suggested that we leave the choice up to the Lord. When we received our mission call, it could not have been more exciting. We consider it a very special blessing!”
Elder Frandsen: “Returning after a 44-year absence has been a most rewarding experience. In an area where there was once a tiny branch in a rented building, there now stands a beautiful stake center. An eight-year-old boy I knew then is a devoted stake president now. Progress in this part of the world has been truly marvelous. Every day there is a new spiritual experience as Sister Frandsen and I labor to help individuals gain or strengthen their testimonies.”
Elder Frandsen: “We have been able to use our talents and experiences, and we have discovered talents that we didn’t know we had. I have been able to relearn much of my Chinese. Sister Frandsen can answer the phone in Chinese and is able to read names in order to forward the mail. We feel that learning new skills at our age is good for old brains!”
Sister Frandsen: “I worried about being away from children and grandchildren. However, there are amazing technological advances in communication available to senior missionaries. In some respects, I hear from and see more of our family than we ever did when we were home. We will have at least four grandchildren born while we are here, which we count as one of the greatest blessings of all. Although I will miss holding the newborn babies, we will get to see pictures and videos as soon as each event happens. Rather than taking us away from family, in many ways our mission has brought us closer together.”
Elder Frandsen: “Actually, we feel that we have enlarged our family by going on a mission. We are ‘grandparents’ to the missionaries. Each day we are excited for young missionaries to share their missions with us. We love them—and they love us back! Don’t you enjoy hearing returned missionaries report their experiences of sharing the gospel? We get to hear those experiences every day while they are fresh and largely unedited. Watching the missionaries mature and grow into effective gospel teachers and leaders is priceless!”
Sister Frandsen: “While we have been gone, we have still been doing missionary work back in Arizona. Two of our best friends have invited the missionaries into their homes. Additionally, our daughter and her husband decided to share the gospel with someone. As a result, one of their friends was recently baptized. The more we try to serve, the more blessings we receive. It is impossible to get ahead of the Lord.”
Elder Frandsen: “Missionary work is never boring! There are new challenges and new adventures every day. In addition to our office duties, we teach an English class on Saturday morning and a Gospel Doctrine class on Sunday morning. Twice a week we teach college-preparation English classes for returned missionaries. We are also involved in finding and teaching investigators. Every opportunity for service opens up new doors for teaching the gospel.”
Sister Frandsen: “Perhaps one of my biggest fears was health concerns; instead, we have experienced health blessings. Our missionary schedule is healthful. We get up early, retire early, exercise daily, and eat nutritious foods. The Lord blesses missionaries with strength to perform their labors. You need not be afraid!”
Elder Frandsen: “We sometimes smile when those back home think that we are making a sacrifice. The sacrifice is minuscule compared to the blessings, joy, and satisfaction that God gives us each day.”

Christian fingered the key in his pocket as he walked toward the jail. It had taken months of study and prayer before he had finally decided to use that key for something more important than just opening the jail door so he could carry meals to those who were held there as prisoners.
Almost all the men in the jailhouse were Mormon missionaries. Many of them had sailed into the Port of Frederikstad in a pilot boat they had fitted up and named Sions Löve (Zion’s Lion) so that they could easily travel to coastal areas of the Scandinavian Mission, then including all of Norway, Sweden, and Denmark.
At first Christian hadn’t paid much attention to the missionaries, for he was busy learning the catechism so he could correctly answer any questions he might be asked by the priest at the confirmation service that was soon to be held for prospective young members of the Lutheran Church. He was not concerned about the fact that almost as soon as any Mormon missionaries arrived in Frederikstad they were arrested.
Lutheranism was the national religion of Norway and missionaries who taught other doctrines were promptly jailed, some for only a few weeks, others for many months. During this time they frequently were taken to court and almost forced to renounce their religion and declare allegiance to the national church of Norway. Refusing to do so, they were then returned to their quarters.
Christian worked for the warden of the jail who instructed him to heckle and be as unpleasant as possible to the prisoners when he carried meals to them. This seemed like fun until one day a young missionary said, “Why do you talk and act as you do? Remember that so persecuted they the Christ and His followers in Bible times.”
The startled boy asked him to explain what he meant, so two of the elders began talking about the gospel and gave him a copy of the Book of Mormon.
Every night as Christian studied for his confirmation examination, he also studied the Book of Mormon, comparing it with his Bible and the Lutheran catechism. As the truthfulness of the restored gospel became more and more apparent to him, Christian prayed to know what he should do. Since no answer came before the confirmation date, he purposely failed the examination and then made application to take it again in six months.
Thinking back over his months of prayer and study, Christian knew what he must do. He finally decided to use his key to the prison to let the two missionaries out of jail long enough to go with him to a nearby fjord so he could be baptized and confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Afterward the three walked back to the jailhouse where the elders returned to their room and Christian turned the key in the lock to their cell.
Because of the persecution toward members of the Church throughout Norway, and also because he knew how angry his father would be, Christian did not tell anyone of the thrilling event that had taken place on that cold winter night of 1852. He knew he would not be able to make his stern father understand what he had done. He tried to talk with his mother but she would not listen. When the next confirmation service was held, Christian honored his application and appeared for his examination with the other prospective young Lutherans.
“Do you believe in God?” was the first question asked by the priest.
“Oh, yes,” Christian answered quickly.
“Can you describe Him?” was the next question.
“I know He is a Being with body, parts, and passions,” Christian replied. “I also know He does not sit on the top of a topless throne. I know our Heavenly Father is good and kind, that He sees, hears, and answers prayers. I know we are made in His image as was His Son Jesus Christ.”
The priest was surprised by this description but continued with the examination, becoming more and more amazed with the answers Christian gave. As the boy glanced at his father he could see that he was very upset. Finally, the priest said angrily, “You answer as if you belonged to that sect known as Mormons.”
“I do,” Christian said, “and I’m proud of it!”
At this declaration, Christian’s father arose from his seat near the front of the Church and rushed up the aisle and out the door, striking his cane hard against the floor with every step he took. Confused and embarrassed, Christian’s mother followed her husband, and their son was abruptly dismissed.
Christian went home wanting to talk with his parents, but he was afraid of what they would say. Having carried his usual armful of wood into the house that night, Christian was piling it near the fireplace when his father came into the room. At the sight of his son who he felt had disgraced him, Christian’s father struck him with his cane and then began to beat him. At last, panting for breath, his father laid the merciless cane on the table.
“Oh, Father,” Christian said quietly, “it feels good to be whipped for the gospel’s sake.”
At these words, the father became even more furious. He picked up stick after stick of firewood and hurled them at Christian. When the wood was gone, he opened the door and shouted, “Get out of my house. I never want to see you again!”
Bruised and bleeding from the beating and the wood that had been thrown at him, Christian dragged himself out to the barn where he threw himself upon the hay. Late that night after her husband was asleep, Christian’s mother noiselessly tied a little food and a few of his belongings in a handkerchief and went out to the barn. Tearfully she treated her son’s injuries as well as she could.
“Why, oh why, did you do this thing, Christian?” she pleaded heartbrokenly.
“Because I had to, Mother,” Christian replied. “I have studied and prayed and I know this is the only true Church. I tried to tell you but you would not listen to me. I cannot deny what I know, Mother. If I did, it would be to deny Jesus Christ, our Savior, and I cannot do that.”
“If, as you say, you know this is right, my boy,” his mother told him, “then you must stand firm. But oh, how my heart aches.”
When the first streaks of dawn appeared in the sky, Christian’s mother crept back into the house. Christian picked up the little bundle she had brought to him and started walking down the road. As he passed his house he breathed a good-bye to his parents, for he knew he would never see them again.
Christian Hans Monson didn’t know where he would go or what he could do. “But I have a testimony,” the fourteen-year-old boy said to himself. “Whatever happens, I can never deny that. And I know that because of my testimony, all will be well.”

I grew up in India, where I met the missionaries and first attended church. That Sunday happened to be Easter Sunday. Because of my work schedule, I came to church late and attended a youth Sunday School class, where one of the missionaries taught the lesson. He quoted some scriptures from a blue book that I had never seen before but that sounded like the Bible. As he was teaching, I felt a strong feeling in my heart and knew that I too should possess this book.
I went directly to him after class and told him, “I need that book.” Since the book was his own set of scriptures, he could not give it to me, but he let me look at and feel it. I could see golden words embossed on the front: “The Book of Mormon.” I got the same feeling again that I needed the book for myself. The missionary got my address and promised to bring me one. Sure enough, the missionaries came to my house soon after and presented me with my own copy of the Book of Mormon. They then started teaching me the discussions.
That year, Easter brought an unbelievable blessing into my life: the Book of Mormon. That small blue book has brought a spirit of life into my life, and I am so thankful that I had the privilege to learn from it.
Venu Bhaskar Nakka, California, USA

Tien was the only one in his group that spoke Siamese, the Thai language. He was able to communicate their desire to seek freedom in Thailand. They were put into a refugee camp but eventually lost track of each other. Tien spent a total of two years in three different refugee camps. He volunteered to work in the kitchen, where he could get enough to eat and also receive extra water for showers. While carrying out his kitchen duties, he noticed that whenever he offered coffee or tea to certain young ladies, they always politely refused. He was very curious about this practice, so one day he asked if something was wrong with his drinks. They explained that they were Mormons and did not drink coffee or tea for religious reasons.
Missionaries were not allowed to give formal lessons in the camps. They were there to teach the refugees how to speak English and otherwise prepare for life once they left the refugee camp. But from their mealtime discussions, the missionaries left Tien with an interest in the gospel and a card with a Utah address saying to get in touch when he left the camp.
One day a U.N. official came to visit the camp and said there were too many unattached children in camp under the age of 18. He said if there were any who would like to go to America, applications were being taken. Tien, who was willing to go anywhere, quickly applied. He was asked if he had a preference of a place to live in America. He showed the missionary card with a Utah address and said he heard the place on the card was nice. His papers went first to New York and then to Utah, where a sponsor was located. After arriving, he found a home with foster parents, Gary C. and Shawna Smith and later with Macoy and Marjorie McMurray. Tien was baptized after missionaries in Salt Lake completed the work begun in the refugee camp through the Spirit and the unselfish Christian service of the missionaries.
Tien is now a senior at Olympus High School in Salt Lake City. His parents are still in Laos, unable to join him in America. He plans to serve a mission as soon as he graduates in June. He feels that his finding a life-saving gas can along the Mekong River and then finding the missionaries in the refugee camp are more than mere coincidence. His visa does not allow him to travel out of this country, so he hopes to do missionary work among Vietnamese people living in America.

After graduation my summer job stole me from my new-found group of friends. I was employed at a gas station, where I was nearly starved by my co-workers’ lack of concern. I was depressed, unhappy, and alone.
One afternoon in July, Nese and a friend drove up to the station. Just seeing them boosted my morale. They were planning to sing in the Oakland Temple Pageant and invited me to attend.
I’ll always remember that special evening. It was the first time I heard the story of Joseph Smith and learned the history of the Latter-day Saints I had grown to admire. At the end of the pageant, the audience rose and sang “The Spirit of God Like a Fire is Burning.” How I wanted to know the words of the song so I could join the chorus! I felt completely full of respect and love.
The crowd left slowly. Standing in the parking lot, I looked up at the temple. A voice in the back of my mind told me that some day I would enter that building.
Eighteen months later, my impression that I would one day enter the Oakland Temple came true, as I received my endowments one week before leaving on a mission.

The day the bad people flew airplanes into buildings and killed lots of people, I said in my bedtime prayer, “Bless all the good people, but don’t bless the bad people.” After I finished my prayer, my mom explained that we need to pray for bad people to help them choose the right. In my next prayer, I said, “Bless all the bad people so they will turn into good people.” I am glad I can pray to help people be good and choose the right.

Now, like most eleven-year-old boys, Steven loved basketball. One afternoon he went with his friends to watch a game on television. Thirty minutes later, he returned home. His mother was surprised because she knew the game wasn’t over. When she questioned Steven, he said the boys had decided to watch a different program, but the program made him feel dark inside. That feeling had helped Steven recognize he was in a setting where the Spirit could not be present, and he was too uncomfortable to stay.

I didn’t do much schooling, so I couldn’t read or write well. The only thing I could do was write my name. A friend I worked with gave me a phone number and said I should call. I called and it was a lady who was a teacher at the high school. She invited me to a reading class. After a while, she invited me to church and activities.
I went to church one day and met the missionaries. They said they wanted to teach me the gospel. One thing that drew my attention was the plan of salvation. There was this emptiness inside of me because I always said to myself that there has to be more to life than what I was seeing.
I had questions. “Where did all of this start?” “Where did I come from?” The missionaries said to me, “You existed before this life. You lived with your Father in Heaven. You came here as a test to do what is required for you to go back to live with Him.” This answered my questions!
The missionaries also taught me that the gospel of Jesus Christ was restored. I didn’t know anything about that. The only thing I knew was that Jesus Christ died for me. After a month, I was baptized at age 25.

1856–1938
“Sister Nachie always prays [with thankfulness] for … her new-found faith.”
She lived in Japan. She helped care for the first missionaries there.
Soon she asked to be baptized.
She was the first woman from Japan to go to the temple in Laie, Hawaii. She also became the first temple worker from Japan.
She helped teach the gospel to other Japanese people living in Hawaii.
Alma O. Taylor, as quoted by Ardis Parshall in Women of Faith in the Latter Days, vol. 3, 1846–1870 (2014), 122–30.

I am not a naturally patient person.
I like to think of myself as a go-getter, a person who does the things that need to be done. When I’m confronted with a problem, I like to work at it until it feels resolved.
So you can imagine how things went when I knowingly married a man working to overcome a pornography struggle—I was relentless. In my mind, we were going to address this problem my way: immediately and unceasingly until everything felt resolved. I wanted therapy, filters, addiction recovery meetings (ARP), items to check off a list.
There’s nothing wrong with these things—they can be very helpful tools. But I was using them to take control of the situation instead of turning to Jesus Christ.
My husband and I tried many solutions throughout our engagement and first year of marriage—he continued working with priesthood leaders, we attended ARP meetings, and my husband welcomed any questions about his struggle and how he was addressing it. We had many raw, vulnerable conversations. And he did make a lot of progress.
But I was hurting and impatient. I’d given this problem my all, so why wasn’t it resolved by now?
One night, one of my favorite scriptures came to mind:
“Let us cheerfully do all things that lie in our power; and then may we stand still, with the utmost assurance, to see the salvation of God, and for his arm to be revealed” (Doctrine and Covenants 123:17).
I had done just about everything I could think of—and then I’d continued at that frantic pace, attempting a new solution every time I felt any sort of distress. Standing still and waiting with faith hadn’t been part of my process at all.
I began learning about replacing chaos and frustration with stillness and compassion. And as I practiced turning to the Lord instead of trying to control my husband, something amazing happened: I began to learn from my husband.
I knew my husband was a wonderful man in many ways. But I’d always seen this as his big shortcoming. I thought he needed my help.
Instead, I came to realize that we both need the Savior’s help. My husband was being blessed for turning to the Savior, and while my reasons for needing Him were different, I needed the Savior’s power in my life just as much. While I stubbornly try everything on my own before turning to the Savior, my husband’s struggle with pornography has taught him that involving Jesus Christ should always be the first step.
He knows the value of daily repentance, what it means to fail one day and then try again the next. As Brother Bradley R. Wilcox, Second Counselor in the Young Men General Presidency, explained: “Worthiness is not flawlessness. Worthiness is being honest and trying. We must be honest with God, priesthood leaders, and others who love us, and we must strive to keep God’s commandments and never give up just because we slip up.”1 He also believes in the principle that Elder Michael A. Dunn of the Seventy taught: “There must be a consistent, day-in and day-out effort. And although we won’t likely be perfect, we must be determined to mirror our persistence with patience.”2
This realization expanded my perspective—I’d acted like the end goal for my husband and me was resolving this pornography problem. But I had to remember the bigger picture; the end goal has always been returning to Heavenly Father and living with my family for eternity. While that includes striving against pornography for as long as it takes, even if my husband never viewed pornography again, we would still need to focus together on a lifetime of working toward a celestial marriage. We would still be flawed people who need grace and mercy.
So we started living with that expanded perspective, implementing small, sustainable changes in many aspects of our lives. Often we focused on spiritual improvements, like establishing a time to read our scriptures together. Other times we focused on diet and exercise changes or connecting more throughout the day. We also continued those habits we’d had all along—therapy, ARP meetings, filters—but this time, we embraced progress instead of expecting perfection. Rather than giving all our energy to a single problem and hoping everything would be perfect once it was resolved, we began working on our lifelong project of becoming better and more Christlike people.
Learning about slow change and regular repentance changed my life. As President Russell M. Nelson explained: “Nothing is more liberating, more ennobling, or more crucial to our individual progression than is a regular, daily focus on repentance. Repentance is not an event; it is a process. It is the key to happiness and peace of mind.”3
I finally realized that I am not exempt from the need for daily repentance just because I don’t have a compulsive habit. Repentance has been the key to my healing because it helps me turn to the Lord every day. Through repentance, I stopped seeing my to-do list as a way to “fix” my husband and instead let it be something that brings me closer to Christ. Through repentance, I realized that peace doesn’t come from absolute control; it comes from absolute trust in the Lord.
I also know that the Lord can take even the most damaging and frightening challenges and use them to help us grow. Because of Jesus Christ and His Atonement, “the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us” (Romans 8:18). I love my husband. I feel true joy and peace in my life, more than I imagined I could, and I know that it has come through my daily efforts to turn to the Lord and allow Him to change me.

I breathed a sigh of relief as we walked down the street to our last appointment. I was tired, and my feet were swollen and sore. It had been a particularly long day of proselyting in the sweltering heat of Bangkok, Thailand. Two days earlier, my bike had been stolen. I was trying not to be frustrated, but two days of walking had taken its toll. I took comfort in the fact that we were heading to an appointment with a newly baptized member—Kee. What a joy it had been to witness her conversion and growth in the gospel over the past two months.
The neighborhood where Kee lived was, without a doubt, the saddest place I had ever seen. The houses were makeshift shacks constructed of wood, tin siding, and cardboard built on stilts above four feet of sewer water and floating trash. Children with no shoes ran around on wooden planks suspended above the sewer. Men lay passed out in a drunken sleep while teenage boys sold drugs on the street corners. I had cried the first few times I had come to this neighborhood, being overcome by the sorrow, poverty, and awful stench. But out of this neighborhood had come two of our favorite investigators, the kind of people missionaries dream of finding.
Kee greeted us as we entered the gate leading to the group of houses we often visited. She immediately asked, “Sister, where is your bike?” We told her how my bike—a beautiful red bike with all the newest parts and gears—had been stolen. She and the neighbors listening nearby became greatly concerned over our loss and current situation. They asked, “How are you supposed to do your work? How are you going to visit all the people you need to visit?” These, of course, were our concerns also, but we told them not to worry.
After visiting with Kee, we headed home. That night we prayed, asking Heavenly Father for help, that things would work out, and that we would be able to do all we needed to do.
The next day we found ourselves heading back to Kee’s neighborhood. As we approached the gate, we noticed all the neighbors sitting out front whispering to each other. Their secret could not be held in any longer as they revealed that one of them had found an old bicycle. They had all pitched in to get it fixed up. Their smiles stretched ear to ear as they proudly presented their gift—a purple bike, scratched and dented, rusty with age. On the crossbar was a big fluorescent sticker which read “Super Bike.” The tires and gears had been lovingly washed and polished. Kee quickly wiped away the remaining smudge marks with the bottom of her shirt. Tears welled in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks as I beheld this little purple bike, given out of sacrifice and love.
I realized that these people, who had but few worldly possessions, had taught the sister missionaries a lesson about love, the pure love exemplified by our Savior. In the eyes of the world, my Super Bike was a sad-looking, beat-up, rusty bicycle. But in my eyes and, I believe, in the eyes of our Father in Heaven, it was the most beautiful bike in the world, a priceless gift from the heart.