Gospel Story Finder

A ribbon of black asphalt wends its way through the mountains of northern Utah into the valley of the Great Salt Lake, then meanders southward on its appointed course. Interstate Highway 15 is its official name. This super-freeway carries the output of factories, the products of commerce, and masses of humanity toward appointed destinations.
I remember a time when driving to my home years ago, I approached the entrance to Interstate 15. At the on-ramp I noticed three hitchhikers, each one of whom carried a homemade sign that announced his desired destination. One sign read “Los Angeles, California,” while a second carried the designation “Boise, Idaho.” However, it was the third sign that not only caught my attention, but also caused me to reflect and ponder its message. The hitchhiker had lettered not Los Angeles, nor Boise, on the cardboard sign he held aloft. Rather, his sign consisted of but one word and read simply “Anywhere.”
Here was one who was content to travel in any direction, according to the whim of the driver who stopped to give him a free ride. What an enormous price to pay for such a ride! No plan. No objective. No goal. The road to anywhere is the road to nowhere, and the road to nowhere leads to dreams sacrificed, opportunities squandered, and a life unfulfilled.

Interviewing the grandparents about their lives, writing the scripts, finding costumes, and then having rehearsals to make sure everything was just right took a lot of time. But the youth said the time spent was worth it when they saw everything and everyone come together on the night of the activity.
“Sometimes I didn’t really feel like it was worth all the time it took to put this activity together. But then when I saw the final night and the looks on the faces of the elderly as they watched incidents from their lives acted out before them and as they realized that the youth in the ward care about who they are, it all seemed worth it,” Cassie says. “It also made me want to live my life in a way so that if someone were to write a play about me when I am old I wouldn’t be embarrassed by it.”

For example, when the local Braille Institute called the sea base and asked if any of the boats would take some blind youth sailing, some of the crews hesitated. Not Polaris. They jumped at the chance, and soon the other boats followed.
But just having the blind youth on board wasn’t enough. The Polaris crew really got them involved, and soon everyone was learning from everyone else.
“It was a great experience,” said Joe Portera, 13. “We let the blind kids reach into the water and then feel the shape of the sail. They said it was different than they thought it would be, that it was more of a curved shape and it was full.”
In turn, the Polaris crew was fascinated with one blind boy, Andy, and his compass, which was Braille. When closed, it behaved like a regular compass, but when it was opened, it didn’t move and Andy could read it with his fingers.
But Andy did more than read the compass. “We let him have the helm at one point and we sailed past another boat, the Triton, which also had blind kids on board,” Joe said. “My dad shouted out into the air, ‘I just wanted you guys to know the skipper that passed you by. Andy, take a bow.’ Then all the blind kids started cheering and yelling for Andy. Andy was really happy and he had a big smile, and my dad was just standing in the back of the boat with tears in his eyes.”
“It’s interesting to see how different people see different things,” says Tony, who is the ship’s boatswain (like a senior patrol leader—say BOW-sun). “They see things in so many ways we don’t even think about. It’s cool. They have fun, they learn, and we learn too.”

Having been born in Hawaii, I enjoy reading the history of those islands and their people. One of the things that I find most intriguing about the ancient Hawaiian men and their form of battle was the method used in training for spear warfare.
The Hawaiian warriors used, among other weapons, a long spear made from very hard wood. They did not have metal from which to make tips, but otherwise they were about the size and weight of the javelin used in modern track-and-field events. As preparatory exercises for war, the men would engage in sham battles. Now while a sham battle was, as the name implies, a mock combat, it could become training of a very deadly sort. After dividing the warriors into two groups, arrayed on opposite sides of an open meadow, the sham battle began with each group hurling their spears at each other. The object of the game was not just to keep from getting killed, but rather, after having hurled one’s spear at the “enemy,” to catch the incoming spears bare-handed and throw them back as well. For, you see, once you had thrown your spear you were unarmed. You rearmed yourself by catching those coming toward you.
You can well imagine the scene that such a melee would produce. King Kamehameha was observed in one such battle to catch three spears in his right hand, fend off a fourth with the spear in his left hand and dodge a fifth, all in one continuous motion.
I bring up the Hawaiian sham battle because it is helpful in drawing parallels with our fight against Satan. But there are some differences—important differences. The sham battle was a game of sorts. You might get severely injured or even killed, but that was merely the odds of the game, not the intent.
On the other hand, the spears of the adversary are not thrown with any thought that they may be harmlessly caught or skillfully dodged. Satan is not engaged in a sham battle wherein he expects his efforts to be easily sidestepped. He carefully plans, with his great wealth of knowledge, the formation of each battle, having little interest in evenly and fairly dispersed combatants. His cunning and perverse plans are intended to home in his fiery darts with swift accuracy, separating us, as Nephi warned, from the iron rod (see 1 Ne. 15:24). You and I may think the War in Heaven is over, but as far as Satan is concerned that was merely the initial battle. He continues with a hate-driven vengeance that you and I, filled with the light of Christ, cannot even begin to envision. He has devised schemes without number to gain men’s souls.
Overcoming the perverse enticings of Satan is an essential part of our progression and advancement. It is a very personal battle that we wage with Satan. No one can fight it for us. We can, however, strengthen and buoy each other up. That is the purpose of families and friends. It is also one reason for the programs of the Church.
Now, returning to the cliff-walking attitude I referred to earlier. As you and I thread our way through life’s paths, we become confronted with Satan’s detours, those opportunities to peer over the cliff. Being curious or bold or foolhardy, or however we so choose to characterize our attempts to come perilously close to the edge without falling, we often see just how far we can get from the iron rod, maybe just barely keeping contact with the tip of a finger. Then if one of Satan’s darts strikes too near the target, we slip over the edge with hardly a murmur. It was thrilling though, while it lasted, teetering there on the brink, knowing we were so close to peril but confident, oh so confident, that we had things in control.
Satan doesn’t care what he uses to get us—liquor, tobacco, drugs, desires for unearned wealth, dishonesty, lust. He’ll use whatever is at hand.
I recall a young couple who were having difficulty behaving themselves when alone on a date. They became concerned with their actions and worried that they might become increasingly involved to the point that they would lose all that they held dear. After talking things over, they decided they needed to begin each date with a prayer. That was a good plan, but their dates continued to end up with just the two of them in some secluded spot and walking on the edge of the cliff, as it were. They repeatedly fell into the same behavior for which they had prayed for strength to overcome. Peril-filled petting had greater attraction than did the calm plans made in the less secluded light of day. It was obvious that if they were going to stop flirting with danger, they would have to take steps to change their pattern of being alone. Yet it seems to be so human how, having once walked to the edge of the cliff, they returned so readily.
The story had a satisfactory ending. The girl finally realized they lacked the determination or discipline to modify their behavior, so she terminated their dating altogether and thus did not slip further into the abyss of immorality.
It really doesn’t matter what the temptation. In ten years as a bishop and high councilor, I have participated in several Church courts. I can testify to you that no one whose membership was on trial had stayed comfortably back from the edge of the cliff. Their fences, if indeed they had ever built them, were in a state of disrepair. With weakened safeguards and a mind full of fantasy, they danced to Satan’s tune until they stumbled over the edge.
We are here, you and I, to be tried, tested, and proven worthy to reenter our Father in Heaven’s kingdom. We are here, as was Christ, to overcome temptation and claim our crowns on high. While we may have forgotten all, we are not abandoned. We have the guidance of scriptures, the counsel of living prophets and other inspired leaders, and, for those baptized under the hands of the priesthood of God, the gift of the Holy Ghost.
The words of Paul to the Ephesians provide eloquent advice for you and me. Said he:
“Put on the whole armour of God, … that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.
“Stand therefore, having your loins girt about with truth, and having on the breastplate of righteousness;
“And your feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace;
“Above all, taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked.
“And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God:
“Praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, and watching thereunto with all perseverance and supplication for all saints” (Eph. 6:11, 13–18).
I believe that one of Satan’s greatest tools is to get you and me to become content to take the average road—to lie a little, to cheat a little, to take a little advantage because it’s the sort of thing that seems so common. By this we are led, as Nephi said, “carefully down to hell” (2 Ne. 28:21).
My young brothers and sisters, I testify to you that Satan is very, very real. I have both felt and witnessed his great power, and it is a frightening thing. It is my further testimony that Christ lives and that he provides each of us the necessary knowledge to recognize sin and error.
I pray that I can have the wisdom to continue. I pray that my children can prepare their fences, and I pray that each of you can recognize those avenues which Satan is stalking in his search for your souls and that you can likewise prepare adequate defenses.
Jesus Christ is the source of our strength. You and I need that strength if we are to turn away from evil and return to our Father in Heaven.

Learning the ropes of steer riding as an Aaronic Priesthood MIA activity? Youths of the Spanish Fork and Palmyra (Utah) Stakes herded their horses and enthusiasm into a rodeo that included goat tying, calf roping, barrel races, and wild cow milking.

Originating with the youth committees of the two stakes, the rodeo attracted more than 80 participants. Organizing and planning the event, along with the publicity and selection of advisers, were all projects of the youth committees.

Among the ropers, riders, and milkers interest ran high. Randy Young, who entered the steer riding event, said the rodeo provided “excitement, action, and lots of fun.” At 14 he’s a seven-year veteran of the arena.

Dean Sorenson started three years ago when he was nine and says the best way to learn the basics is from an older brother, a father, or a friend.

Many of the local young people frequently ride in the weekly rodeo at nearby Birdseye, which provides stiff competition and good training, according to Dean.

Recently a mission president talked with an 89-year-old investigator who kept putting off joining the Church. The mission president said, “Do you believe the gospel is true?” The investigator said, “I know it is true as well as you do.” The president said, “Do you believe that Joseph Smith was a prophet?” The investigator said, “I also know that as well as you do.” The mission president said, “Then why don’t you get baptized?” The investigator said, “Don’t rush me. I’ll let you know when I am ready.” He is already 89. Think of the blessings he has already lost by procrastination.

Presidency meetings can also be a time to evaluate and improve. “We had a sacrament meeting where not too many people showed up, and it was hard to know how to adjust when we were passing the sacrament,” says Bridger O., the deacons quorum president.
“As a presidency,” Bridger explains, we decided that the deacons should talk that through and be prepared if it ever happens again.” The presidency also decided to meet with each new deacon as he comes into the quorum and show him how to pass the sacrament.

Ramón ran, skipped, and jogged on the way to school. All at once he slowed to a walk.
Today was Monday. New helpers would be chosen in his class at school.
Ramón wanted very much to be a classroom helper. Every changeover day he smiled hopefully at his teacher, Mrs. Martin. Mrs. Martin always smiled back at him, but she had never chosen him to be a classroom helper.
The warning bell was ringing as Ramón hurried into the school building. He had almost reached his classroom when he saw a little girl sitting on the floor, crying as she tried to pick up crayons she had dropped.
Ramón bent down beside her. “I’ll help you.”
Soon all the crayons were picked up, and the little girl hurried on her way.
Mrs. Martin stood at the door of the classroom. Ramón smiled at her. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he said. He sat at his desk and waited for Mrs. Martin to announce this week’s helpers.
She chose Alise to put the library books away, Matt to pass out the study pages, Maria to take care of the art supplies, and Robert to feed the fish.
Ramón was sad that he was not chosen for any of the jobs. He took his pencil out of his desk and got ready to start his work. Just then Matt, who was passing out the study pages, dropped the whole pile.
Ramón jumped up. He helped Matt pick up the papers. Matt didn’t say thank you, but Ramón smiled at him anyway.
The classroom door opened, and the principal walked in. With him was a boy Ramón had never seen before. Mrs. Martin spoke to them for a moment.
When the principal left, Mrs. Martin said, “Class, this is Steven, who will now be in our class. I want you to welcome him.”
Then Mrs. Martin said, “Ramón, you are always friendly and smiling and helpful. Will you be my very special helper today and show Steven all around our school? He needs to know where the gym, the cafeteria and the washrooms are.”
Ramón smiled at his teacher and nodded. He smiled at Steven too.
On the way home from school that day, Ramón ran and skipped and jogged. He was too happy to walk.
“This was a very special day,” he told his mother, “because I got to be a very special helper.”

Let me tell of another person I met in Guatemala. He is John O’Donnal, the president of the Guatemala City Temple. He stood before a congregation and with a voice choked with emotion told his story.
As a young man he was graduated from the University of Arizona with a degree in agricultural science. He was employed by the U.S. Department of Agriculture and was sent to Guatemala to work on a project to develop the growth of natural rubber trees to meet a critical need during World War II.
As I remember his words, he said: “I was twenty-four years of age and unmarried when I came to Guatemala forty-three years ago. I had been raised with a love for the Savior and His teachings. During my work here, I walked day after day through these mountains and jungles among the native peoples of this land. I came to know them and to love them, and as I saw the poverty and darkness in which they lived, I wept for them. They were the purest people I had ever known, but they were without the light of the gospel. I cried to the Lord concerning them. I knew that their one sure hope lay in obtaining a knowledge of and a love for Jesus Christ, and in receiving the record of their forebears, which testifies of Him.
“In time I fell in love with a beautiful girl who had English and German blood and also the blood of Lehi, Laman, and Samuel. We were married and spent our honeymoon in a little house in the mountains among the native people. I told her that some day these people must hear the gospel and that they would rise in strength and beauty.
“In 1946 and again in 1947 I traveled to Salt Lake City, Utah, and pleaded with the President of the Church to send missionaries. Finally, in December 1947, the mission president and his counselors brought four elders to our house. The next day we drove onto a mountain where together we had the sacrament, and the mission president dedicated the land for the preaching of the restored gospel.
“My wife was the first native of Guatemala baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Today she stands at my side as the matron of this beautiful temple.”
He continued: “In 1956 I was in a serious accident and was taken to the hospital for major surgery. I almost lost my life, and in those circumstances I had a remarkable experience. The Lord showed me that a temple would be built in this land.
“Also, I was informed by a power beyond the power of man that I would not die but that my life would not be my own.”
His life has not been his own. As a scientist and administrator, he established and operated a large rubber plantation and built and operated a tire factory for one of the great rubber companies in the United States. But he did still yet a far more significant thing. In the spirit of the Master, he went about doing good. He worked sharing the gospel among the native peoples of Guatemala. For more than forty years he has lived with them, has spoken their language, has sorrowed with them in their sorrows, has taught them the everlasting gospel, and has been a quiet, unassuming, but magnificent pioneer in the development of the work of the Lord in that land.
When he walked the jungle trails alone, he was the only member of the Church in all that land. Today there are more than forty-four thousand of them. He nurtured the first little branch. Today there are eight stakes of Zion in Guatemala and many more in the surrounding nations of Central America. Once, a few members met in his home. Now beautiful chapels of the Church are seen throughout the land. On a hill above Guatemala City is a magnificent temple, atop whose tallest steeple is the figure of Moroni.

When I was a boy, I looked forward to passing the sacrament to the ward members. We deacons were trained as to our duties. One of the men in our ward, Louis, suffered from palsy. His head and hands shook so violently that he could not, by himself, partake of the sacrament. Each deacon knew that his duty in serving Louis was to hold the bread to his lips so that he might partake and to similarly place the cup of water to his mouth with one hand, while steadying his head with the other, the tray being held by another deacon while doing so. Always Louis would say, “Thank you.”

“I remember being called into the bishop’s office for an interview,” said Elder Steve Lloyd of the Casper (Wyoming) Fifth Ward and the Switzerland Geneva Mission, “and realizing that I’d been thinking about the same things the bishop had. He said the Lord had called me to be the first assistant in the priests quorum, and I realized the Spirit had been preparing me to accept the call. It would be tough to be a missionary and not have had experiences like that with the Holy Ghost. You might not recognize what it was when it tried to prompt you.”

As a young person I also learned that it was easier to follow the Savior if I had a good attitude. My father set the example for me. From as early as I can remember, I knew that my father trusted me and had confidence in me. He was a road builder and timberman. I started to run large construction equipment for him when I was a teenager. Once I happened to turn one of his trucks upside down. When my father saw it, instead of scolding me, he said, “Jack, since you’ve got it upside down, you might as well get it greased.” He used a little humor to put me at ease and then, over time, taught me how to keep better control of the equipment. What could have been a bad experience turned into a good one because he loved me and wanted to teach me.

Sixteen-year-old Tawnya Cazier, who lives in northern Idaho, has a best friend like that, and she doesn’t even mind the face-licking part. Her friend’s name is Nephi, and he’s a 75-pound malamute, the leader of her dogsled team. Nephi has saved Tawnya more than once, and he came into her life at a time when she was in desperate need of a good friend.
At 13, Tawnya was diagnosed as having a severe case of diabetes. Her blood-sugar levels were so erratic she had to stay out of school for a year. Many times her parents took her for special treatment in a clinic more than a thousand miles away from their home near Spirit Lake. All this took its toll on Tawnya. “I complained a lot, and I became very lazy,” she said.
It hurt Tawnya’s father to see his daughter’s suffering. He’d been diagnosed with diabetes when he was younger too and knew what she was going through. He decided Tawnya needed something to perk up her spirits. He’d always had an interest in dogsledding, but had never been able to pursue it. He noticed that Tawnya followed closely Susan Butcher’s progress in the Iditarod, the world’s most famous dogsled race, and thought dogsledding might be a good hobby for Tawnya. Since they were living in a sparsely populated, wooded area known as “Frazier’s Icebox,” where snow lasts into June, he asked, “Why not?”
Tawnya loved the idea, so they began putting together a homemade sled with skis for runners. They also began acquiring dogs from friends and from newspaper ads that said, “Free to good home.” Nephi was the first and the best. He was a natural leader, loved to run and work, and had the strength of three dogs. He would prove this many times as they took him all over the Northwest for weight-pulling competitions, which he often won.
Although Tawnya loves competition, the weight pulls are the only contests Tawnya has entered. What she’d really like to do is enter her team in the 150-mile Junior Iditarod, held each year in Alaska.
“I thought that would be the most awesome thing in the whole world, since I can’t compete in the real Iditarod until I’m 18,” she says. “So I wrote for the information on it, and they sent me a packet. I was so disappointed when I learned it was held over a weekend, on Saturday and Sunday. I asked them if they could change it, but they wouldn’t.
“That was a big hang-up. I wanted to run it so bad. I really had to fight with myself. But I finally got to the point where I realized that this would go against everything I’d ever been taught. It wasn’t worth it.”
So instead of training for the big races, Tawnya is content spending a couple of hours each day after school with her dogs. In the summer, when there’s no snow on the ground and her sled is useless, she hitches the dogs to a three-wheel cart. On Saturdays she cleans the dog runs, but Sundays she reserves for church.
“I like to go to church, read the scriptures, nap, write letters to missionaries, and spend time with my family,” she says. “It’s the one day of the week we can be together and just relax and talk. Most of the other days we’re all going in different directions.” Tawnya is the oldest of nine children, and they live together with their parents in a large mountain cabin.
The dogs have been good for the whole family. The younger children enjoy helping Tawnya feed and care for them, and, of course, they love rides on the sled. The dogs, in turn, love the children, and are extremely gentle.
“They have been bred through the years not to bite,” Tawnya explains. “The Eskimos couldn’t afford to have a vicious dog that would attack other dogs or people. Many times the dogs lived inside with the families. These dogs have been bred to love being around people and to love pulling a sled.”
The enthusiasm the dogs have for pulling is obvious the minute Tawnya walks outside with harnesses in hand. The dogs prick up their ears and begin barking and jumping. They’re eager.
“I learn lots of things from these dogs,” Tawnya says. “Enthusiasm for what you’re doing is one of them. Another is obedience. You don’t use reins with them, just voice commands. If they didn’t listen to what I told them, I could have had some really bad accidents. Once, if the dogs had followed their instincts and kept running, rather than stopping right when I told them to, we would have gone right between a mother bear and her cub. I don’t think any of us would have survived that.”
Tawnya has also learned that physical handicaps, like diabetes, don’t have to keep you down. Although she gives herself blood tests and shots three times a day and constantly has to be aware of how the food she eats and her physical activity will affect her insulin level, Tawnya doesn’t let that limit her. She’s back in school now, achieves straight A’s, and goes to seminary early each morning. She also finds time to spend with her friends, who love her dogs as well.
One of Tawnya’s favorite Mutual activities involves taking the youth in the ward on a dogsled ride out to a spot where a large bonfire has been built. They sit around toasting marshmallows and singing. The dogs, who love it as much as Tawnya does, sometimes join in on the chorus. Tawnya’s hobby has become well-known in the ward. Even the bishop has been for a ride on her sled. “He loved it!” she says. The missionaries have enjoyed it too.
It would be hard for anyone to resist such an offer, especially coming from this girl. Tawnya is as warm and down-to-earth as they come. Unless she told you, you’d never guess she suffers from a life-threatening disorder.
“I used to ask, Why me?” she says. “I used to wonder why I have to go through all this—be sick, give myself shots and blood tests, watch what I eat, and all that. But then I realized that the Lord knew I could handle it. It’s a comfort to know that the Lord has confidence in me. It gives me the strength to go on.”
Tawnya says she’s grateful for the strength she also derives from the support of her friends, family, and of course, her dogs.
“My dogs teach me so much,” she says. “I learn how to treat people by watching how they treat me. At first I thought I had to have patience with my dogs, but then I realized they have to have patience with me. Nephi shows me so much love, even when I’m not at my best. I want to be able to show that to other people. Nephi really is my best friend.”

It’s a beautiful sound when all the members of the London Ward in Winnipeg, Canada, sing hymns with the organ music in their chapel. Thirteen-year-old Marvin Cardona is the organist. Anywhere there’s music in the London Ward, you’ll most likely find one of the youth from the ward providing the accompaniment.
It’s strange to think that only a few months ago the members in this ward would either sing without accompaniment in their meetings or play the Church-produced tapes of the hymns as they sang.
Everyone prefers having the young people in the ward play the hymns now. Andrew Cardona, 17, says, “Everyone actually sings in time now. Sometimes we were off a few beats [from the tape]. You feel the Spirit more now.” Jackie Famini, 13, agrees. “It’s nice to have someone play the piano instead of listening to the tapes.”
When the London Ward was split from another ward, there was no one left in the ward boundaries who could play the organ or the piano well enough to accompany the congregation. That’s where Elder and Sister Heap entered the scene. They are a missionary couple who realized that once they left the ward, there would be no one who could play the piano. So they decided to teach music lessons to anyone who was interested.
Almost all the youth in the ward signed up. “I heard about all the other people taking lessons, and I was interested because I wanted to play the piano,” says Sherri Cardona, 15. “So I asked Sister Heap, and she said yes.” Sherri now rotates with other girls in the ward to play the keyboard for Young Women opening exercises.

I will forever be grateful to these sweet nuns, for their caring and gentle guidance when I was so lost. As I grew up and graduated from my school, I did the best I could on my own, but I always carried a feeling that something was missing. One day, a friend, who later became my husband, sent two missionaries to visit my house. This was the turning point of my life.
The missionaries taught me about the restored gospel and the plan of salvation. They taught me a truth that was complete, and I learned to know my Savior even better than before. I came to understand my purpose on earth.
Because of this knowledge about Jesus Christ and His gospel, I started seeing life from a different angle and came to know that one day my mom and I will be united again forever. Nothing could compare to the joy I felt after learning this great truth.

“I’ve wanted to fly airplanes for as long as I can remember,” 17-year-old Lamar F. says. When a friend from his wheelchair racing days told him about a British charity that helps people with disabilities learn to fly, Lamar was eager to try.
He signed up for two of the charity’s programs. One of them, the Junior Aspiring Pilots Program (JAPP), was created especially for youth between the ages of 12 and 18. These programs and other solo lessons are all propelling him one step closer to his big goal—getting his Private Pilot License.
Part of his inspiration comes from his family. Lamar’s foster dad was the first person to get him hooked on flight, taking him to airshows every year. Later, after he was adopted by another family at age four, Lamar’s interest in aviation continued to thrive as he watched his adoptive father pursue a pilot’s license. “He’s my inspiration for wanting to be a pilot,” Lamar says. Now Lamar’s dad can ride with him in the single-propeller, five-seater airplanes Lamar is learning to fly.
Lamar’s parents (pictured here on either side of him) are some of his biggest supports.

When Loniana Fifita wants to make changes in the world, she begins with recognising her passion, and being mindful of those around her, then starts using her skills and talents wisely.
Along the way, she seeks to align her plans with what God wants her to do, accomplishing what He has given her the talents and opportunities to do. And above all, she does it with love.
The United Nations Youth Day on 12 August had the theme, “Youth Engagement for Global Action”—seeking to highlight the ways in which the engagement of young people at all levels is enriching institutions and processes, and thereby enhancing youth opportunities for influence.
Loni’s talents and love have changed the world for many Tongan children who now have access to a public library—the first in the country.
Loniana Fifita is a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Auckland, New Zealand. She was born in Ha’apai Tonga and moved to Auckland with her family when she was nine years old.
Loni has been engaged as a youth advocate since she was 15 years of age. She served as a youth representative on the Maungakiekie-T?maki local board, one of the 21 local boards of the Auckland Council.
While attending University of Auckland, Loni also served on the Auckland Council Youth Advisory panel, working alongside Auckland mayor at the time, Len Brown.
With her focus and passion on youth, she explained, “I wanted to make my area [Maungakiekie—T?maki] liveable . . . because that's the whole purpose of council.”
Loni started looking at projects and preventions for many issues facing Pacific youth. She kept asking herself, “What can I do?”
Because of the rising number of social issues in the community, she joined a passionate group of community change makers in creating initiatives to help solve social issues concerning youth. One of the key initiatives was “Phenomenal Young Women” which focused on building young women’s well-being in all aspects of life.
Phenomenal Young Women creates “safe spaces for young women in T?maki to connect, grow well-being, feel confident to try new things, and have fun.”
These experiences, Loni’s connections within the local and city councils, and her ability to connect with people, prepared her to be the librarian at the local board’s library in T?maki. But when approached about taking that post, she hesitated.
Loni has always wanted to work as a humanitarian. She never thought she would be a librarian, and she didn’t go to the library when she was young.
“I felt like Heavenly Father just handed me opportunities, but I was trying to ignore it, because it was not part of me,” she said.
“You know how you have your own plan, and He gives you His plan?”
After praying and fasting about it, she decided to take the position.
“My dream was to be a humanitarian, and this was the door to it,” Loni reflected. “Working in the library, I always wanted to give back . . . but I didn’t see the [opportunity] until Cyclone Gita hit [Tonga].”
It was in the aftermath of Cyclone Gita, that Loni’s engagement on the national level began. Being a librarian and also Tongan, and well-known for her work in the T?maki community, she was asked to help establish the first public library in her beloved island nation of Tonga and serve as the first librarian.
With schools and educational resources destroyed, Loni worked tirelessly with founders, Kahoa and Brendon Corbett, as donations of thousands of books from over 50 Auckland Council libraries, as well as computers, and even bicycles, were brought to the renovated community fale (centre).
The library opened in October 2019, in the village of Kolovai, with plans for a second library underway in a nearby town.
Loni paid her own fare on her trips to Tonga, lived by herself, and donated her time and talents to establish the library. She started weekend English classes, children’s programs, computer and family history classes, job application skills classes, and even bicycle rentals.
She says, “Tongans now understand that a library is more than a building—it is a safe place for growth and development, connections, and learning for many different reasons.”
For Loni, the definition of humanitarian is: “Love for humanity, doing things for the well-being of the human being without price . . . no matter what it is . . . or where [people] are from, or what their circumstances are. And so, my drive for humanitarian projects is the pure love that service brings.”
“Being a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is one of the greatest things,” says Loni. “If I didn’t have it, I wouldn’t understand my Heavenly Father’s plan and my plan, to align [them] together and it will be bigger than what I think it could be.”
UN Youth Day is an opportunity to celebrate and reinforce the achievements of young people. Loniana Fifita’s accomplishments and achievements are great examples of what a young person can achieve with passion, talent, and lots of love.

Our mission president had been admonishing the missionaries in the Ghana Accra Mission to “stay focused.” He was famous for using this phrase. At one of our zone conferences, he suggested ways we could do this, and a key point in his list was having a favorite hymn.
He told us to select a favorite hymn, memorize it, and sing it at times we may be tempted or down. This statement echoed in my memory throughout the day.
I was homesick. Nobody in my family had written to me recently, and I felt depressed. I had been less focused. This was the moment I needed to select a hymn to uplift my spirit. I was familiar with many hymns in our green hymnbook, but which did I love the most?
That night, I took an old hymnbook and flipped through the dog-eared pages, searching for a hymn that had a comforting meaning to me. Immediately, I had an idea. Elder Sheldon F. Child of the Seventy, then Africa West Area President, had visited our group in the missionary training center and spoken about the Atonement. He concluded, “If all you young missionaries understood the Atonement of our Lord Jesus Christ, there would be no need of mission rules.”
That was the kind of hymn I needed. I was no longer confused. If I had a hymn about the Atonement, I would feel the love of my Savior, be comforted, and stay focused on what He wants me to do.
I finally chose hymn number 136, “I Know That My Redeemer Lives.”
Today I am grateful to my mission president for his wise counsel. Now I have a favorite hymn memorized, which I ponder always and remember to sing in times of depression, trials, and difficulties. “I know that my Redeemer lives. What comfort this sweet sentence gives. … He lives to bless in time of need.”

Before I was baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints at age 14, my family lived in a house that belonged to Sister Gladys, a member of the Church. I was not interested in anything Sister Gladys said about the Church because I believed I was happy as I was.
Then, after much suffering, my father died. My mother and I loved him with all our hearts. His death did not leave my mother and me well off—either economically or spiritually.
My life became filled with bitterness and pain. Sometimes I thought God did not love me and had forsaken us. My mom had to go to work, and I was alone all day, crying and remembering the things we had done with my dad. I didn’t have many friends and didn’t want to do anything.
One day, Julian, Sister Gladys’s son, asked me if I wanted to talk to the missionaries. I told him no at first, but he seemed so disappointed I decided I would.
The missionaries greeted me kindly and introduced themselves. They looked so happy I decided to take the discussions.
During one of the discussions, they told me I could see my father again, he could be baptized by proxy, and we could be an eternal family. From that moment, I knew God had heard me and He loved me greatly. I decided to be baptized.
After my baptism, I wanted to share the truth with my mother, but she was not interested. We argued a lot because I had changed religions.
I kept praying and hoping that someday my mother would be baptized. After three years and many prayers, her heart was softened and she joined the Church. Now we live very happily, and our goal is to be sealed in the temple. And as if these were not enough blessings, the Church is now building a temple in my country!
I know that this is the true Church and that God loves us very much. I know that I am going to see my father again and that we can be a happy, eternal family.

At the age of eight I was baptized in borrowed white trousers. They were too long, but my mother tucked the legs up and fastened them with a few stitches. This worked fine until they got wet. As I stepped out of the water the weight of the wet cloth broke the stitches. I tripped over my borrowed pants and fell to my knees. The thought immediately came to me that this was a reminder to always kneel and pray for the help of our Heavenly Father in everything.