Gospel Story Finder

Chieko Nishimura Okazaki had goodly parents too. Her grandparents moved from Japan to Hawaii. Her parents worked hard on a plantation. They were Buddhists, Buddhism being the main religion in Japan. They did not know about Jesus Christ. But they knew about goodness. What did they teach Chieko?
She said, “They taught me to be kigatsuku (key-got-sue-koo). That means to do good without being asked. When my mother was sweeping the floor, she would say, ‘Chieko, what would a kigatsuku girl do now?’ I would think for a minute, then run to get the dust pan and hold it for her. Or when she was washing dishes, I would pick up the dishtowel and begin to dry them. She would smile and say, ‘You are a kigatsuku girl.’
“My parents taught me other things. They taught me to work hard and to always do my best. That’s why I could work hard in school, go to the university, and become a school teacher and even a principal. They taught me to always love the truth. That is why, when I found the Church, I loved it and was baptized a Latter-day Saint.”
Chieko respected, honored, and loved her parents by helping without being asked and by following the righteous principles that they taught her. Now she is the first counselor in the General Presidency of the Relief Society. Her father is dead; her mother is still a Buddhist. Sister Okazaki says, “I know that she is proud of me because I still try to be kigatsuku, and I love her very much for teaching me good things.”

One time a little boy said to me, “Why were you so sad?” I treasured telling this little boy that sometimes it’s possible to feel so happy that you think you’re going to burst with joy. When this happens, you cry. You cry because you have found the thing you love. You can’t explain it. You just know it.

I heard the garage door open, and I knew what he would tell me. I lay quietly in bed. My father’s figure appeared in the doorway.
“Tracie, are you awake?” My heart was breaking as I felt my dad sit on the edge of my bed. “Lynn and I are going to get married,” he said. I was silent as he tried to explain.
“This does not mean that I love your mom any less. I know it will be hard, but I need you to be a good example to your sisters.” His sentences swirled around my mind, blurring into a mass of tears, weighing harder and harder on my heart.
“Good night, Tracie. I love you.”
As he left, my eyes overflowed with tears. My mind wouldn’t stop spinning. Why did my dad have to get married again? We were doing fine. Grandma didn’t mind helping us out. Mom wouldn’t want him to remarry. I didn’t want a stepsister my age. I have only one mom. I will be loyal!
I was eight years old when my mother died of cancer, and it changed me. I had always been shy, but my mother’s death caused me to turn completely inward. My friends distanced themselves from me. Home was my only safe place, and in it I grew up quickly as I became the part-time caretaker of my two little sisters. I must have blocked some things out because there’s not much I remember. I do know, however, that I became a hardened little girl.
It was during that stage that my dad told me he was inviting Lynn and her daughters to our house for a visit. They were family friends, so my little sisters were excited to play with Lynn’s two girls, Meghan and Paige. I hated the idea from the start. I suspected my dad’s intentions, and I decided I was opposed to the idea. I was determined that I would not forget my mother.
I felt betrayed that my dad would even consider remarriage. How could Mom’s memory live on with another woman in the house? I thought all my dad’s love would go to Lynn, and she would try to take Mom’s place.
I was wrong, and I am constantly amazed at how my views over the years have changed. It has been a long, hard process, but it has contributed a great deal to my character and has helped sculpt me into the person I am.
The first thing I needed to do was learn to love Lynn. I thought she was a nice lady, but that was where it stopped. She tried to tell me what to do, and even worse than that, she loved hugs and kisses. I did not want to kiss her and went to great efforts, at least at first, to avoid it.
Lynn and my mom are about as different as two people could be. They were actually best friends, and where one had strengths, the other had weaknesses. I have many memories of my mother waking up at five in the morning to read her scriptures and bake bread. She was friendly, but at the same time a bit shy. Lynn was the bold, outgoing one who loved talking and meeting people. This was something I had to deal with; she was just so different.
I think it was these differences, though, that made it possible for me to love her. I had respected Lynn from the beginning because she was my father’s new wife, and I wasn’t a rebellious child. But it was different when I started to love her. I saw that she was good to us. She drove us places and helped us with our problems. It was nice to have a woman in the house, especially during my early teenage years. She made my dad more happy and relaxed than he’d been in a long time, and it was nice not to have so much responsibility for my sisters. But there was still a wall between us. I loved and appreciated her as a person, but she wasn’t my mom.
Over time, Lynn’s role in my life changed. I matured, and Lynn became a great help to me. She loved it when I talked to her. Sometimes I would just plop down on her bed and talk to her for a long time. I really started to trust Lynn, to depend on her.
I now consider Lynn my second mother. The wall is gone. I used to think if I loved Lynn, my love for my mom would decrease; but just the opposite has happened. I love them both and appreciate their strengths and the many things they have taught me. I don’t compare them since they are both so loving and kind and have so many wonderful qualities. It took me a long time to admit I love Lynn and my stepsisters, but since I did, I have realized that love is sweet and powerful.
I love both my moms, and I am proud I am a little like both of them. I feel at peace, because I know the Lord’s plan for my family has been fulfilled. I have grown so much through these experiences and rejoice that I have learned to accept different people, to express myself to others, and most importantly that I now cherish a person I vowed I would never love.

When my family lived in Seoul, South Korea, we were within walking distance of the school my youngest son attended. My wife could have driven him to school every day, but she enjoyed the time walking to school with him. Twenty minutes is a long time to talk, so they would often sing hymns and Primary songs too.
“Would you teach me a song you learned from Primary this week?” my wife would ask. Sometimes she knew the songs already, but Sun Yoon would sing loudly and proudly. He liked teaching his mom his favorite Primary songs.
They had a good time together on those walks. One day my son observed, “Mom, I want to live in a world where I can hear hymns and Primary songs everywhere I go.”
Many places in South Korea had large speakers that blasted popular songs that sounded very different from the sweet songs my son and wife sang together. Sun Yoon found that singing good songs tuned his mind to enjoy good music. He had good songs in his heart.

Janie was tired of winter. It was too snowy and icy for her to play outside, so she looked out the window and wished.
She wished the snow would melt away.
She wished the world would be green with springtime again.
Janie told Father about her wish. He just smiled and said, “If you’re anxious for spring, we can make it come early in a corner of your room.”
Father helped Janie find a tall can. Together they found a spot of ground near the house that was covered with only a little snow. Janie cleared away the snow and dug enough soil to fill the can.
Mother found some beans in a bag in the cupboard. Janie planted the beans in the can and watered them. Then she placed the can in a corner of her room near the window.
Every day she watched the can. Finally the soil burst open! Bright green shoots pushed their way up through the soil. Just like magic, Janie had springtime in the corner of her room.
It was so much fun that Janie asked Mother to save another can for her. This time she planted kernels of wheat. In only a few days Janie could see little spiky green hairs sprouting up in the can. Janie laughed at such a funny sight.
Next she put pieces of carrot tops in a shallow bowl and filled it with water. In a few days the carrots had sprouts that looked like dainty feathery ferns.
Now that she had started, Janie couldn’t stop. Mother gave her a sweet potato and showed her how to put a toothpick in each side of it. Then they filled a quart bottle with water and placed the bottom part of the sweet potato down into the water. The toothpicks kept the rest of it outside of the bottle. Before long the sweet potato began to grow. Quickly it became the prettiest plant in all of Janie’s garden.
Janie was so busy tending the garden in the corner of her room that she had no time to worry about winter. In fact, she was so busy that she almost forgot to notice when it left.
Janie was happy when springtime finally arrived. But she was even happier because she had learned that she could have springtime all year round.

I have a really busy life, running to school or ballet classes or other errands. During all of that, I don’t get alone time or feel peace. When I read my scriptures or say a prayer, I do feel peace. It’s nice to feel that way and have a break from the craziness. In those moments of peace, I grow closer to the Savior and grow in the gospel.
Zoe B., age 17, Utah, USA

In a General Conference talk in October 1976, Elder Robert L. Simpson of the First Quorum of the Seventy, recalled the story of one brother, quite new in the Church, who was very eager to serve in an “important” position—but for the wrong reasons. Once, when he met with President Hugh B. Brown of the First Presidency, he asked, “President Brown, how does someone get to be a bishop in the Church?”
“Well,” answered President Brown, “the process is very simple. You just have to be invited by the Lord.”
“In the work of the Lord,” said Elder Simpson, “we don’t seek positions, nor should we refuse the opportunity to serve when called.” That same “policy” applies to all Church callings; we receive a call from the Lord, through our ward or branch leaders.

We will never forget the Sunday when a new family of German origin moved into the Pusuqui Branch in Quito, Ecuador. The branch president introduced the Fuchs family during sacrament meeting, and we immediately felt they were special people.
After sacrament meeting I took my family to welcome them. Andreas, the oldest of their children, greeted us warmly and introduced himself as Andy. Something about that moment signaled the beginning of a friendship that was to be deep, true, and certainly eternal—a friendship that left us an unforgettable legacy.
Time passed, and the Fuchs family became very involved in our branch. I was Young Men president at the time, and I soon saw that Andy’s enthusiasm showed in all areas. When we began a service project, he was first to appear—with a big smile.
Andy was an extraordinary person, due to the goodness of our Heavenly Father and the guidance of his earthly parents. From an early age, Andy had been nourished by their affection and patience. He and his father, Horst, shared many activities and were indispensable to each other. This example so matured Andy that at age 14 he was a person of ability and usefulness. His many abilities never ceased to surprise us, but he was humble about them. He was totally dedicated to learning the gospel of Jesus Christ and lost no opportunity to talk to people about the Church.
No one supposed Andy would leave us so soon. We still remember that painful Saturday when we learned of his tragic death.
That morning Andy decided to ride his bike to the top of a hill in the area. He had already done so once with his father and was determined to repeat the feat alone. After getting his father’s permission, he set out. As he rode up the hill, a truck transporting wood down the hill careened wildly. It struck Andy and killed him instantly. It was difficult for us to accept that this tragedy had occurred to such a bright, promising young man.
The truck driver was seriously injured. He was taken to a hospital in Quito under police watch so he would not escape justice for what he had done. Surely, we thought, he should be held accountable for the accident. But from Horst Fuchs we all learned to forgive.
The branch president and I went with Brother Fuchs to identify Andy’s body. While the death of his son was very painful, he forgave the person who had taken Andy’s life. He refused to hold animosity in his heart. A few days later he visited the truck driver in the hospital and told him that he forgave him. He offered his help and spoke to him about the gospel of Jesus Christ. While the truck driver was recovering at home, he started receiving the discussions from the missionaries, who were accompanied by Brother Fuchs. Brother Fuchs also intervened in the justice system to have all charges against the man dropped.
I know this demonstration of love has its foundation in the gospel of Jesus Christ—the gospel by which the Fuchs family lives. The Fuchs family is indeed exceptional. Their example showed us that only through Christ does great strength come, as well as comfort and support.
Overcoming the pain made us better people. Although we understood that there would be tears along our path through life, our branch saw from Andy’s legacy and his father’s example that we must have faith and work diligently to live and share the gospel every day. And because of Jesus Christ, we have faith that we will meet Andy again.

I have invited a special young man to assist me with my presentation tonight. I would like to introduce Terry Haws, my oldest grandson.
Terry, how old are you?
Terry: Twelve.
What special event has happened in your life this year?
Terry: I received the Aaronic Priesthood and was ordained a deacon.
Terry, again I would like to congratulate you on the preparation you have made in your life to be worthy of receiving this great gift. As I stood in the circle on that special occasion and listened to the blessing you received from your father as he conferred the Aaronic Priesthood upon you and ordained you a deacon, I was impressed with the special privilege this is in your young life.
I wanted to have a little grandfather-to-grandson chat right afterward, but unfortunately I had an appointment with an airplane. So I’m taking advantage of this assignment to have our little visit. Let’s make it public just in case what we talk about might be of benefit to other young bearers of the Aaronic Priesthood listening to us tonight. All right?
Terry: Okay.

As I poured the boiling water into the mush pot and stirred in the cracked wheat, I thought of other Thanksgivings. Last year when Grandma was taking flaky crusted pies out of the oven with a towel, her thumb accidentally touched the hot tin pan and she dropped a currant pie upside down on the kitchen floor. Steaming red juice trickled across the clean linoleum, and I thought it was a disaster until Grandma said, “You youngsters can have that pie.” She wasn’t one to waste anything. I remember my aunts saying that Grandma was so saving that if a mosquito lit in the molasses, she’d lick its legs before turning it loose. Maybe so, but no pie ever tasted so good as the one she dropped.

In January 2001 my husband, Peter, became unemployed, and shortly thereafter our third child was born. When Peter found a job 500 miles (800 km) away, we made a big move. And although he enjoyed the job, the year was very bad economically and we had barely enough money to pay for rent and groceries. Our small food storage quickly vanished, and Christmas was approaching. Then Peter’s employer gave us an unexpected “Christmas bonus”—all the employees in Peter’s department were declared unemployed for one month.
Thus, my husband was again out of work. But the Lord did not forget us. Peter was asked to help several members, and we were supported financially through this work. We were not forgotten for Christmas either. The sister missionaries rang our doorbell one day and presented us with a package on behalf of an anonymous family in our ward. When we opened it we found many lovingly wrapped gifts, each bearing the name of a member of our family. We also found an envelope containing extra money—as if the presents had not been enough!
On Christmas Eve the doorbell rang again. A package on the doorstep again contained nicely wrapped presents for each of us. We were very happy. I thanked our Heavenly Father for the little miracles He had provided. And I was grateful to the members who were so loving, even though we had lived there for only five months.
We do not know who helped us during those difficult times, and I can’t help but think of the Savior’s words: “For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink” (Matt. 25:35).

From then on, I started meeting with them and learning of the Restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ, of the Book of Mormon, of the Prophet Joseph Smith. Everything was so foreign to me, but I felt the Spirit every time. I started reading it for myself when (newly transferred in) Elder Baldwin invited me to read the Book of Enos. From there, I couldn’t stop reading. Even though I still didn’t believe it, I couldn’t stop. I knew something was different about the Book of Mormon. I thought about it constantly. It strengthened my faith in a loving God.

Second, a quorum is a fraternity. In the October general conference of 1982, Elder Robert L. Backman recounted the experience of a young man named Mark Peterson. Shortly after his ordination as a deacon, the deacons quorum presidency scheduled an appointment with Mark and his parents at their home.
“Promptly at the hour set, the doorbell rang. The members of the presidency stood on the porch, dressed in suits, white shirts, and ties, and each one carrying his scriptures.
“Sitting down with Mark and his parents, they began with prayer, then handed an agenda to everyone there.
“The president then opened the scriptures, having Mark and his father read those references which speak of the power of the Aaronic Priesthood, what it is, and the particular duties of a deacon.
“The president then spoke about Mark’s particular responsibilities and duties: how he should dress, how he should pass the sacrament, act as a messenger, collect fast offerings. And then they asked him if he had any questions.
“At the end of the visit they welcomed him to the quorum and offered help whenever he needed it. As they left, Mark … said to his Dad: ‘They were awesome!’”

“Come on downstairs, everyone!” Mom called. “It’s time for family home evening!”
Sarah reluctantly closed her book and joined her sister and brother as they went into the family room. Family home evening was fun, but she didn’t think it was as exciting as the adventure story she was reading.
After Dad welcomed everyone, Audrey led the family in a song and Tyler gave the opening prayer. Sarah waited for Dad to announce who was giving the lesson. Instead, he said, “We’re going to practice what we would do in an emergency. You have two minutes to get ready and be in the car. Get whatever you would need if you were going to be gone for three days. Go!”
Dad, Mom, Audrey, Tyler, and Sarah jumped up. Sarah dashed to her room, and then stood in the middle of it looking around. What would she need? Clothes! She pulled clothes out of her drawer and put them in a small bag. There wasn’t room for much more, but she stuffed her pajama pants in too, and then remembered her glasses case and the elastic bands for her braces. Would she need a blanket? Or a pillow? She grabbed both.
Two minutes isn’t very long, and Sarah didn’t feel ready when Dad said, “Get in the car, everybody! Bring whatever you have and let’s go!”
Sarah, Audrey, and Tyler ran out to the car, threw in their stuff, and piled into the seats.
Audrey called back into the house, “Mom, I forgot my tennis shoes—will you grab them on your way out?”
Tyler spilled sunflower seeds into his seat-belt buckle, and Dad had to help him dig them out so the seat belt could fasten. “Why did you bring an open bag of sunflower seeds?” Dad asked.
“That’s my food,” Tyler said.
The family van pulled out of the driveway a moment later. “How did we do?” Dad asked. “We got out in good time, but are we prepared for three days away from home?”
“Mom, you got me two different shoes,” Audrey complained. “I can’t wear these.”
“Sorry,” Mom said. “I was trying to pull all the coats out of the closet, and I couldn’t see the shoes very well. At least there’s a right and a left shoe, even if they don’t match.”
“I got some clothes and a blanket, but I forgot my contact lens case and a brush,” Audrey said. “I did remember my toothbrush, though.”
“Oops,” Tyler said. “I guess I’ll have to borrow yours. But I got clothes and a Book of Mormon—except it’s in French. I picked up the wrong one off the bookshelf.”
“I brought my coat too, because I didn’t know where we were going,” Sarah said. “I saw a flashlight in my room, so I brought that, but I didn’t get anything to eat.”
“We have food in the 72-hour (3-day) kits I put in the car,” Dad said. “Do you remember we put those together last year? And there are tents in the duffle bag. Those are always by the back door.”
“Dad, I know we have things ready, but I don’t know where everything is kept,” Audrey said. “Maybe you should show us where to find stuff in case you aren’t at home and the rest of us have to leave.”
“That’s a very good idea, Audrey,” Mom replied. “I’m not sure that I could find everything in a hurry myself. I knew I wanted to get important papers and my scriptures, but I wasn’t very organized. I grabbed bread and peanut butter and apples, but I didn’t have time to fill the cooler with water, so I just pulled jugs of apple cider and milk out of the fridge.”
“Ugh, warm milk?” Tyler asked.
“We’d have to drink it up fast,” Mom said. “Maybe we ought to put some sealed water containers in the garage, in case we need to leave quickly. I’d never thought of that before.”
“Why don’t we go get an ice-cream cone and talk about what we learned tonight?” Dad said.
“I know one thing I want to do,” Sarah said. “It took me a while to decide what to get. Even though I knew it wasn’t for real, I was still scared, and I had a hard time thinking of what I needed. I want to plan what I would gather up ahead of time.”
“I would definitely want a brush,” Audrey said.
“And I would want something more than sunflower seeds,” Tyler said.
Dad nodded. “Let’s all make a list this week of the things we would need if we had to leave suddenly and be gone for three days. Next Monday night we can go over our lists and decide how to get organized so we are prepared to grab items and go. We will probably never need to do that—but if we do, we’ll be ready.”
While she was eating her ice-cream cone, Sarah decided she had been wrong about something. She didn’t miss her exciting book at all tonight; family home evening could definitely be an adventure!

The movies and television show handsome men and beautiful women drinking. These people do clever and funny things.
My dad didn’t do clever things. He did disgusting things. He would wet the bed. I would have to strip off the sheets and blankets. Then it was my job to turn over that big, blue, wet mattress. I would grab hold for all I was worth. I pulled. I pushed. It would spring back at me. The wet smelly thing would be in my face.
He threw up. He threw up and then threw up some more. My bedroom was next to the bathroom. I would bury my head in my pillow. I didn’t like that sickening smell.
Sometimes my dad would walk around without clothes on when he was drunk.
He never hit me when he was drunk. But lots of people do get mean when they drink. They hit their children and abuse their families.
Now I’m an adult I can forgive him. I know now that alcoholism requires treatment. He did the best he could do without help. But I didn’t forgive him while we were living in the same house.

It was the end of the assembly on Joseph Smith at our seminary, and our teachers had left the last 15 minutes for testimonies. I knew I had felt something during the program, and I realized I had to go up and bear my testimony even though I wasn’t sure if I had one.
I had recently turned 15, and I was questioning everything. I had prayed and read my scriptures, but the answer hadn’t yet come. I began to think Heavenly Father had abandoned me. I didn’t know if it was right to bear a testimony I wasn’t sure I had.
But as soon as I got up there, peace came over me, and I realized that I did know. I knew Christ was my Savior, I knew that Joseph Smith was a prophet, and I knew Heavenly Father was there, listening. I began crying for joy. Heavenly Father hadn’t abandoned me, and He had answered my prayer through my own testimony.
I know that if I live the gospel and do my best, then I will never lose that glorious feeling of knowing what I’m doing is right.

Dear Topher,
Thank you for the get-well card and the snapshot of you and that kangaroo on the playground. It sounds like school in Blackwater isn’t much different from here in Michigan, except I have never seen anyone bring a wallaby to class!
Yesterday was my twelfth birthday. My little sister, Kimmy, drew me a picture of an elephant on stilts. It was pretty funny. The nurse hung it on the wall by the side of my bed. Oh, and Mom and Dad bought me a puzzle—one of those hard ones with zillions of tiny pieces. I guess they think I’m going to be here for a while! Dr. Gunnerson tries to find a piece every time he comes in my room, but he says it’s harder to put together than some of his patients.
I feel about the same, I guess. Some days are better than others. It’s hard to know about cancer.
Well, I’d better go now, Topher. I’m real tired, and Dad is making funny faces and it makes it hard to write.
Your pen pal,
Cindy
Dear Topher,
It was fun reading your letter. Good luck with your part in that ward musical. Are you serious about your bishop playing Bigfoot? Maybe they grow bishops bigger in Australia—ha, ha!
Speaking of bishops, Topher, mine has been coming to see me a lot lately. In fact, he helped me finish that puzzle. It’s a picture of a raccoon and a turtle. I told him that I wish more people would show reverence for Heavenly Father’s creatures by being kind to them. He said that life is precious—all of it. I asked him if animals go to heaven when they die. He said that it says in the Pearl of Great Price that all things were created spiritually before they were placed temporally upon the Earth.* He said that spirits are eternal, so that certainly ups their odds!
Then we talked about dying, how it is a part of living, that it is like a door we all pass through in order to keep on living forever. He said that it isn’t so important how much time we have on earth but what we do with the time we have. Then he held me a long time and didn’t say anything. It was like he couldn’t talk. I think he was crying. Then he whispered in my ear and said that Heavenly Father was very proud of me and had a special place prepared for me in Heaven.
Later that day Dad and our home teachers—Brother Sullivan and his son Larry—gave me another blessing. Dad asked Heavenly Father that if it was His will that I should be called home early, that my pain might stop so I could better enjoy whatever time I have left. Well, Topher, guess what? The pain went away. It is easier for me to write now too.
Linda, one of the nurses, is bringing my supper in, and it smells good, so I guess I’ll say good-bye for now.
Your pen pal,
Cindy

Lisa glanced at the talent show sign-ups as she walked down the hall to math class. She paused for a second and then kept walking. No way! No more talent shows. Not after what happened last year.
Onstage—in front of everybody—she’d forgotten the words to her song!
It was one of the most embarrassing moments of her life.
So why was she even thinking about putting herself through that again? What was the point? So that’s that, she decided. Not gonna happen.
At home that night, Lisa got out her violin to practice. She loved playing the new fiddle song Mom had been teaching her.
Her fingers pressed down on the strings. The square-dance song made her feet start tapping.
This would be a perfect song for the talent show, Lisa thought. But playing her violin in front of everyone sounded even scarier than singing! There were too many notes she could forget.
“That’s sounding good,” Mom said when Lisa finished the song. “Now try it faster.” Mom adjusted the metronome. The tick-tick-ticks that told Lisa how fast to play started to speed up.
Lisa concentrated on her fingering and the notes came out fast and bright. Now she really wanted to dance! Mom played some backup notes on her own violin that helped Lisa keep her place.
Suddenly Lisa had an idea. A few other kids had music teachers playing backup music for their songs. If anything could help Lisa not feel so nervous, it would be Mom playing with her.
“Mom?”
Lisa set down her violin. Mom turned off the metronome. It sounded really quiet all of a sudden.
“Yes?”
Lisa hesitated. Then she blurted out, “Would you play this with me in the talent show? You know, like how we played it just now?”
Mom grinned. “If we can both wear cowgirl hats, you’ve got a deal.”
“Yes! This will be awesome!”
Before Lisa knew it, the night of the talent show had come. She peeked from behind the curtain as her turn got closer. There was such a big crowd that people had to stand up in the back. She was frightened and excited. Fright-icited, she thought. A little of both.
“Our turn,” Mom said as she gave Lisa a quick hug.
Lisa said a quick prayer that things would go OK.
The hug and prayer helped chase away the jitters. They carefully adjusted their cowgirl hats, then walked to the center of the stage.
Mom started playing the introduction. Lisa put her bow to her violin … and messed up! She came in too soon! Was this happening again?
But Mom kept on playing, and Lisa was determined to continue. Besides, after the intro came Lisa’s favorite part. The fun section.
Listening to Mom’s steady playing, Lisa launched into the melody and started hitting the notes with more confidence.
The crowd clapped and cheered. Lisa even began tapping her feet while she played. The rest of the song flew by. It was so fun!
By the time the music ended and they took their bows, Lisa could hardly remember those few goofy notes she’d hit early in the song. Mom grabbed Lisa’s hand, and they smiled at each other. Lisa felt terrific.
Thank you, Heavenly Father, Lisa prayed silently. Thank you for giving me such a great mom.

In order to hold worship services, the members in Chyulu built a small bowery that would accommodate about forty people. The sides were made from tree branches woven together, and the roof was corrugated tin and palm branches. Each Sunday morning, little children used tree branches to sweep out the building.

Due to the area’s isolation and primitive conditions, special arrangements had to be made for the baptisms. A water tank was brought from Nairobi to serve as a baptismal font. It took five hours to pump enough water from a well and haul it six kilometers to the new font. Then ten adults stood inside the font to raise the water level high enough so the candidates could be immersed. In preparation for the first service, forty people were taught the discussions and interviewed. When they were baptized and confirmed, the branch nearly doubled in membership. By August 1993, there were two branches in Chyulu, with a combined membership of three hundred and fifty.

Then I met Stephanie. She came into the candy store one day wearing a black scarf around her head. As I pointed out to her my favorite chocolate, I felt impressed to inquire about her situation. She smiled, removed her scarf, and, pointing to her bald head, told me she was going through chemotherapy. That exchange was the start of a special and candid friendship.
Stephanie came by the store regularly to enjoy a treat and talk about life. I learned that she was a member of the Church and that she had struggled spiritually as well as physically. She told me about some rebellious choices she had made and about her efforts to repent. She was working toward being sealed to her husband in the temple.
A few months after that conversation, I left my hometown to start a new job and lost contact with my friend. One day my mom called to tell me that she had seen Stephanie’s obituary in the newspaper. I came home to attend her funeral and learned she had been sealed to her husband just three weeks before her death.