Gospel Story Finder

We are grateful to our Heavenly Father for the blessings of attending self-reliance group meetings.
Before I attended the self-reliance group meetings, I was into a small-scale business and I could not separate my capital from the profit. I usually added up everything together, making it impossible to determine if there had been any profit. During the self-reliance group meetings, I was able to learn the principle of budgeting which has helped me to put my costs in order as I now know what to buy first and what to forgo, i.e., my needs, versus my wants, as well as the important principle of tithing.
The principles I learned in self-reliance have been helpful in my workplace in so many ways, such as helping me know how to manage my salary through effective budgeting as I try to spend wisely, organize myself by creating a balance in my life, as well as helping me to be spiritually and financially self-reliant.
Currently, I am gainfully employed through a referral I got from the office of the Welfare and Self-Reliance Services in Benin City.
I testify that the Church is true, and I know that self-reliance will bless us as we participate in any of the group meetings because it has really blessed my life.

Their family often goes camping and fishing. “We went camping a couple of weeks after they moved here,” Brother Campbell said.
“They didn’t know anything about mountains, camping, or sleeping in a tent,” Sister Campbell added. “But they adjusted really well. Both of them even caught a fish on their first try!”
“You didn’t catch it,” Jessa told James. “Daddy helped you.”
“Daddy helped you, too,” James said with a laugh.

When their bishop challenged them to read the Book of Mormon in a year, the youth of the Spring Creek Ward in Mendon, Utah, got right to work—building a temple. For each five chapters they read, each young man or woman would write his or her name on a craft stick to be attached to a model temple built of foam board. The Young Men and their leaders completed two of the walls, the Young Women and their leaders completed the other two, and the bishopric covered the roof. They all got together to celebrate finishing the Book of Mormon and the temple at the end of the year.

Tom served a mission in the northern United States. Soon after that he joined the United States Marine Corps during World War II. One of his missionary companions also joined the marines. Together they taught other marines the gospel. Some even joined the Church!

Thereafter, I was invited to the Relief Society and then my baptism came around. I think the whole stake came out to see this young Scottish girl being baptised in Utah. I have since held many positions in the church, such as Relief Society President, Primary President, Stake Primary President, and Sunday school teacher. Currently, I am in charge of Public Relations and Communications for the Greenock Branch.

Then a Brother Vance rose from his seat in the congregation. A large, strong, grandfatherly man who worked well with his hands, he related his thankfulness to the Lord for the growth of some lilac bushes that were most precious to his wife.
The bushes had grown so tall they blocked the sunlight to the Vances’ tiny home. Brother Vance told his wife he had to cut the bushes back to ground level and move the roots to a new location. She vigorously protested his decision, afraid the bushes would not survive. But he felt it was necessary.
He told of the painful but loving task of pruning the bushes, preparing the soil in the new location, and, finally, digging up the roots and planting them.
He described how every day he weeded, watered, and looked for signs of new life. The lack of new growth, he said, made him worried and concerned that he had destroyed his wife’s lovely bushes. The more he thought of his love for his eternal companion, the more feeling he developed for the roots he had nurtured in the earth.
Finally, early one morning, he was relieved to find green evidence that the roots were alive and growing. He brought his wife to see her lilacs and offered a prayer of thankfulness for the growing results of his work.

One day I came home from school very sad because I had to write a story and I didn’t know what to write. My mom and I talked about how Heavenly Father could help me if I prayed and asked for help. My mom and I prayed together. The next day I was able to write a story, and it was easy. I was so happy. I told my mom that Heavenly Father had answered my prayer. The words just came to me when it was time to write!
Evan N., age 8, Washington

When Makoto Ishizaka, 26, of the Senzokuike Ward, Yokohama Japan Stake, turned 18, he received the Melchizedek Priesthood and was ordained an elder by his father. Although Makoto was still a high school student, there was an urgent need for him to serve his family as a Melchizedek Priesthood holder. His 14-year-old brother, Isamu, had a malignant brain tumor.

As Isamu awoke from surgery, his first words were “Can I have a blessing?” For more than a year, Makoto joined his father in giving frequent priesthood blessings to Isamu. “Before giving blessings, I prayed and pondered in the small hospital room,” says Makoto. “When I give blessings, I feel Heavenly Father is using me as an instrument.”

While in the hospital, Isamu studied seminary lessons, did not murmur, and expressed gratitude for his blessings. When his condition suddenly became worse, Makoto prayed in desperation: “Why is this happening?” Then he felt the voice of the Lord. “It pierced my very soul. Through the Spirit, I knew Isamu was needed in heaven. My anger and uneasiness vanished and were changed to peace and hope. Forty-eight hours later, Isamu passed away. He was 16.” Makoto dedicated Isamu’s grave and received temple ordinances in his brother’s behalf. He later served a full-time mission. “The priesthood blesses both those who perform and those who receive ordinances—and it can purify both,” he says.

Let me tell you of an important event that we have had in the Church in the last few months. Not too far from Church headquarters, in Idaho, there was a great tragedy. A great earthwork dam collapsed. There were 17 miles of water backed up in the canyon behind the dam. All of that was loosed on the valley below. It was a beautiful, quiet, sunny Saturday morning. Just below in the valley were two or three little communities—7,800 people in all. A few miles farther down the valley were another 25,000 to 30,000 people, almost all of them Latter-day Saints. All were going about their work, getting ready for Sunday.
The first place the water hit was the Wilford Ward area. It was washed away, all of it: all of the houses, all of the barns, all of the fences. The ward chapel was completely destroyed. The ward was gone, just like that.
Then the water hit Sugar City. The same thing happened. Sugar City was gone. The stake center stood and a few of the houses, but they were terribly damaged. The water broke into the wall of the stake center and picked up all of the benches and just tore the inside of the building out. Then it broke out the other wall and went on its way.
In all, 790 homes were destroyed. Many of them vanished without a trace. Some places you could see a cement foundation. Another 800 homes and many businesses and churches and schools were badly damaged.
Now you are wondering about the people, about the 25,000 Latter-day Saints, all in the face of this flood that Saturday morning. Very few died by drowning. Only six. That is a miracle. An expert said that 5,300 should have perished.
But only six died by drowning. How could that be? They couldn’t just run upstairs and get on the roof and be safe, because the houses were washed away. They couldn’t just run up on the hill—most of them had several miles to go before they reached safety. Then how were they saved? There was a warning. It was only a short one. Some of them only had a few minutes. But there was a warning. And Latter-day Saints pay attention to warnings. If we are living righteously, we are easily warned. And so, the word went out just before noon that the dam was beginning to crumble. Those who heard obeyed the scripture. Let me read another verse or two from the Doctrine and Covenants.
“Behold, I sent you out to testify and warn the people, and it becometh every man who hath been warned to warn his neighbor.” (D&C 88:81.)
And that is what happened in Idaho. Some of them heard, and they began to warn their neighbors. Now how did they do that? Call them on the telephone? “It’s a beautiful day today, a nice day for a ride. Do you think you would like to go over to Rexburg some time this afternoon and visit the college? It’s up on the hill. Oh, you are too busy. Well, you think about it, and I’ll call later this afternoon.” No! no! That isn’t the way it was! If they got them on the phone they didn’t speak, they screamed: “The dam is breaking! Get your children! Get to high ground!” They ran from neighbor to neighbor. And they knocked on the door, and if no one would open, they kicked the door down or smashed in the window to warn them.
Only six drowned. What about them? One was a fisherman just below the dam. He had no warning. Two people heard the warning but didn’t believe it. They were found in their car, but they had moved too late. Three others heard the warning but went back to get some of their possessions. Latter-day Saints pay attention to warnings.
There are pages of miracles that took place individually. One young man was in town when he heard the warning. He knew that his parents were not at home out on the farm, but his little sister was there, and she was sick in bed. When it was all over, she had been saved.
One father was at the college in Rexburg doing some work that Saturday morning; someone knocked on his door and said, “Turn on your radio; I’ve heard that the dam is breaking.” He thought of his wife and the boys out irrigating on the farm. And he had the car. There was no time for him to go. When it was all over with, his wife and his children were there with him, warned and rescued by the neighbors. Now there is a great message in this.

Whenever my friends and I see our friend at either school or in activities outside of classes, we usually find opportunities to share our thoughts on the gospel. She respects the gospel, and I have seen her turn away from temptation.

“Mom!” The high-pitched wail made me wince.
What now? I wondered. The children had gone to bed, and I was going about my evening activities. My husband was at a late meeting.
I went upstairs, bracing myself for what I thought was another argument between siblings, and found my youngest child, Michaella, with red-rimmed eyes. “My ear hurts, Mom.”
Oh, no, I thought. Why does this always happen at night? I couldn’t justify the expense of an emergency-room visit for an ear infection, so I used all the home remedies I knew and tucked her in. “Try to sleep now,” I said. “I’ll call the doctor as soon as her office opens in the morning.”
Downstairs again, I felt anxious and could not concentrate. I went to the kitchen and halfheartedly began to wipe the counters. Then with a sudden motion I threw down the cloth. I headed back upstairs to check on Michaella, moving softly in case she was asleep. I stopped halfway up. Through the open door at the top of the stairs, I could hear sobs.
I could not take it. I couldn’t just stand by, helpless, while my child suffered. I sank down on the stairs, tears running down my face. I prayed. I pleaded. I trembled as I told the Lord I would do everything I could to help my daughter and then I would leave the rest up to Him. After taking a few deep breaths, I climbed the rest of the stairs, sat on my daughter’s bed, and smoothed her damp hair.
“It hurts bad, Mom.” The usual dimple in her cheek wasn’t there. Her face was pale. Fatigue and pain had made dark smudges under her eyes.
I decided I would not wait until my husband returned; I would risk looking like an overanxious, overprotective, and overreacting mother. “I’m going to call our home teacher, OK?”
Michaella nodded.
I made the call, feeling somewhat awkward. When I asked our home teacher if he would give Michaella a blessing, his answer was, “Of course.” A short while later he arrived, smiling, as if driving out late at night was his favorite thing to do.
While he performed the blessing I felt hope lighten my heavy heart. I thanked him as he left, then put Michaella to bed again. She was asleep within minutes.
The next morning she seemed so much better, I was tempted to skip calling the pediatrician. But I had promised the Lord I would do everything I could.
Later that morning, I watched the doctor closely. She peered through her scope into Michaella’s ear and said, “You didn’t get much sleep last night, did you?” It wasn’t really a question; it was a statement.
“She slept straight through the night,” I said.
I took a mental photograph of the doctor’s astonished face.
I knew then that we had had our own little miracle. No seas were parted, no lepers cleansed, no dead raised. It had simply been a night of peace, without pain, for a little girl.
For me, it was enough.

The Honorable Grosvenor Groundhog
Was wrapped in his winter dream
When an uneasy feeling assailed him
That bothered his sleeping regime.
He opened one eye to the murky gloom
And he twitched a drowsy-head ear;
He sniffed a wee bit and he listened,
But not a sound could he hear.
Then his left hind toe gave a wiggle,
And he slowly rose from his bed.
“There’s something a-stirring! I feel it!
I’m sure of it,” Grosvenor said.
So he shuffled off to his staircase
That led to the world above,
And climbed to the top, and yawning,
Gave his stout trapdoor a shove.
He stepped out in the coolness;
He tingled with crisp fresh air;
And he plodded about in the sunshine
Squinting at things here and there.
He lifted a paw to test the breeze,
Then he twitched his nose in mirth.
“It’s only that rascally Spring,” he said,
“Impatient to take over earth.
“But the light is so bright
That my shadow I see—
And that test of brightness
Is too much for me.
I’m going back to my snoozing again,
To my snug bed down below.
I’ll pretend that the world above me
Is still covered with cold and snow.
Then Spring will step softly
For forty-two days
In respect for tradition
And groundhog ways.”

Although the scriptures are meant for all of Heavenly Father’s children, they can speak to each of us in a very personal way when we ponder them and apply them to our particular challenges. I found this to be the case several years ago when I faced a painful situation.
My husband and I were experiencing a challenging time in our lives. He had recently lost his employment, so we were struggling financially as we tried to survive on my meager salary. Fortunately, our difficulties were tempered by the love we had for each other and by the love of some special friends in our ward.
Then things took a turn for the worse.
One day at work a coworker phoned for me to come to his office. I went, assuming he wanted to see me about some of the projects we were working on jointly. To my surprise, he proceeded to express strong disapproval for an action I had taken. Although I apologized, he continued to berate me, pointing out some of my personal characteristics he said he couldn’t tolerate. I was dumbfounded; I had great respect for this man’s abilities and had thought we had a cordial working relationship. Moreover, I could not understand why he felt he had the authority to chastise me when I was a couple of steps above him in the company structure.
His ranting continued until I was reduced to tears. After the whole experience, I still couldn’t understand what had made him so upset. Apparently his own life had become filled with misery, and I was the unlucky person on whom he unloaded his feelings.
When I reported this to my supervisor, I received little satisfaction. The whole experience left me feeling discouraged, alone, and vulnerable. My husband and I were already worried about his not being employed, and now I wondered what would happen to us if I lost my job.
When I arrived home that evening and explained to my husband what had happened, he opened the scriptures and read from Psalm 37, commenting that he now understood why he had felt impressed to read it that day during his scripture study.
“Cease from anger, and forsake wrath,” the psalm states. “Fret not thyself in any wise to do evil. …
“The wicked have drawn out the sword, and have bent their bow. …
“But the salvation of the righteous is of the Lord: he is their strength in the time of trouble.
“And the Lord shall help them” (Ps. 37:8, 14, 39–40).
Although I had read this psalm many times before, I was amazed at how much it seemed to apply to my circumstances. Had my husband not read this passage of scripture to me, I would likely have become angry and bitter because of my experience at work. However, the message Heavenly Father conveyed through the scriptures healed my heart as it taught me that I should be calm and free of bitterness. It gave me great hope to realize the many blessings I would receive if I heeded that message.
I returned to work the next day with joy and forgiveness in my heart and was better able to overlook the shortcomings of coworkers.
The spiritual growth that resulted from this experience has proven to be a valuable source of strength that I have drawn upon many times since. How grateful I am for both the universal and the personal nature of the scriptures!

GEELONG—Anthony George, 17, lives in this seaside town southwest of Melbourne. “I actually got my testimony from attending the temple,” he says. “Before I started going to the temple, I didn’t really have much of a testimony. I just went along with everyone.” Then, a few weeks before his third trip to the temple, Anthony’s Sunday School teacher told the class that everyone needs a testimony. “So I started thinking about that.”
At the Sydney Temple a few weeks later, Anthony was in the font. “I had already been baptized a few times, and they said the baptismal prayer and I was baptized again. I just had this really good feeling like the person was grateful for what I had done for him. I just felt that this was the right thing, and that going to church was the right thing.” Everything just came together “like a jigsaw puzzle the Spirit put together for me.”

When he was in the navy during World War II, there were those in the great and spacious building21 who made fun of his principles, but two of his shipmates, Dale Maddox and Don Davidson, took note and did not. They asked, “Sabin, why are you so different from everyone else? You have high morals and don’t drink, smoke, or swear, but you seem calm and happy.”
Their positive impression of my father did not match what they had been taught about the Mormons, and my father was able to teach and baptize both shipmates. Dale’s parents were very upset and warned him that if he joined the Church he would lose his sweetheart, Mary Olive, but she met with the missionaries at his request and was also baptized.
Near the end of the war, President Heber J. Grant called for missionaries, including some married men. In 1946, Dale and his wife, Mary Olive, decided Dale should serve even though they were expecting their first child. They eventually had nine children—three boys and six girls. All nine served missions, followed by Dale and Mary Olive, who served three missions of their own. Dozens of grandchildren have also served. Two of their sons, John and Matthew Maddox, are currently members of the Tabernacle Choir, as is Matthew’s son-in-law Ryan. The Maddox family now numbers 144 and are wonderful examples of being “all in.”
In going through my dad’s papers, we came across a letter from Jennifer Richards, one of the five daughters of the other shipmate, Don Davidson. She wrote: “Your righteousness changed our lives. It is hard to comprehend what our lives would be like without the Church. My dad died loving the gospel and trying to live it to the end.”22
It is hard to measure the impact for good each individual can have by standing up inside. My father and his two shipmates refused to listen to those in the great and spacious building who were pointing the finger of scorn.23 They knew that it is far better to follow the Creator than the crowd.

I lay awake under the wagon with my dog, Swisher, close by. Once in a while I could hear Ma moving restlessly in the wagon bed above me. I wondered if it was because Ma was hungry too.
Thinking about it brought a lump to my throat and an even deeper feeling of emptiness to my stomach. She had given me her share of the thin flour soup that had been passed around the small circle of wagons at sunup. I had gulped it down before I learned it was the last of our food until relief wagons from Salt Lake were to reach us.
I planned to stay awake until the relief wagons rolled in. I would be the first in line to get Ma a share of food. And maybe there would be something for Swisher too.
When Swisher began to growl softly, I listened for the sound of wagons. Suddenly Swisher leaped to his feet, staring into the half-light night. My heart pounded.
“Shush your dog, Sam,” a voice whispered. “It’s me, Dirkin.”
Dirkin!
I didn’t much like Dirkin. He had kicked at Swisher more than once. I raised up on one elbow and put an arm over Swisher’s neck. His growl settled to a nervous rumble in his throat.
“What are you doing here, Dirkin?”
“I’m going after some wheat.”
“Wheat?”
“Shhh!” Dirkin cautioned. “Folks say old man Crowley has a whole sack of it. He keeps it hidden in the daytime and sleeps on it at night.”
I had heard about Brother Crowley’s wheat. “That’s for planting when we reach the valley,” I told Dirkin. “He doesn’t even eat any of it himself.”
“Yeah? Well that wheat should belong to all of us. I don’t aim to starve while he has it handy.”
“Brother Crowley wouldn’t let anyone starve clean to death. Anyway, the relief wagons are on the way. That rider who passed through camp this morning brought the word.”
“I only aim to fill my pockets,” Dirkin whispered. “It’ll be easy. Old man Crowley is at that meeting the men are having over at the main campfire.” Then in a warning voice, he added as he turned to go, “Keep your dog quiet!”
I felt sick. What Dirkin intended to do was wrong. I wished he hadn’t told me. Somehow, just knowing about it made me feel guilty.
“He’s lots bigger than I am,” I reasoned to my dog. “He’s older, too, and mean. Remember how he kicked at you for no reason?”
Swisher licked my hand. Then he wiggled out from under the wagon, and I followed. I only intended to sneak along behind Dirkin, but when I saw him moving through the half-darkness, something made me holler out. “Dirkin!”
He lunged at me. I felt his fist hit me in the eye, and I yelped. It hurt. I dove at his legs, and we tumbled to the dirt. I aimed a fist at Dirkin’s eye. He turned his head, but not fast enough.
Swisher barked and growled and jumped around us. In spite of the hurting, I felt pleasure in knowing that the noise would spoil Dirkin’s plans.
“Hey now—what’s going on here?”
I knew it was Brother Crowley even before he lifted me off Dirkin’s back.
“What’s this rumpus all about?”
My mouth was full of dirt, and I kept busy spitting it out so I wouldn’t have to say anything. I couldn’t rightly tell Brother Crowley. Dirkin wasn’t about to explain, either.
“All right, if you’re not talking, I guess the best thing is to keep you fellows separated until morning so that the rest of us can get some sleep.”
He lifted me by my galluses (suspenders) and pushed me toward his wagon. “Up against the wheel, Sam. Sit tight until daylight. I’ll put young Dirkin up against the other wheel. … Well, look at that! He’s slipped away.”
My back was sore where Dirkin had pounded me. I leaned enough away from the wagon wheel that my back wouldn’t touch it. My stomach hurt more, and I rubbed at it. I wanted to get back to my bed. Maybe if I told Brother Crowley. …
“Brother Crowley,” I began, “about the wheat you have …”
“Good wheat for planting.” It was as though he read my mind. “When those relief wagons head back to Salt Lake, I’m going along to get it planted.”
“I hope those wagons hurry,” I said.
“Hungry, are you? Well, I’m a mite hungry myself. But we can stand it a few more hours, can’t we, Sam?”
I hoped I could. And I hoped Ma could. I was glad when he added, “You may as well go roll up in your own blankets, Sam. No need sitting here without young Dirkin to talk to.”
I wasted no time getting back to my bed, but I couldn’t sleep. My eye was puffed up and hurting.
I was awake when the relief wagons pulled into camp near first light. I heard the shouting and the laughter and the welcoming. Out of one eye, I saw Ma running to join the crowd. Even Swisher left me to follow.
I pulled Ma’s old patchwork quilt up over my face. I wondered what she would say when she saw my eye.
“Hey, Sam!”
Dirkin again!
I threw off the quilt, rolled out from under the wagon, and jumped up with my fists doubled. Dirkin blinked at me, and I almost laughed. He had a swollen eye too.
“I brought you something.” What he handed me was tied up in a cloth. I could tell by the feel of it—wheat!
“Dirkin, you didn’t—”
“Nope,” he said with a grin. “Old man Crowley sent it. It’s sort of a reward.”
I stared at Dirkin, trying to puzzle it out.
“I told him. He said to make it right I’d have to go with him when the relief wagons leave and guard his wheat.”
“Guard it?”
“Yeah—I’m going to help get it safely to Salt Lake, then help him plant it.” He paused. “Sorry I kicked at your dog, Sam.” With that he left.
All of a sudden I didn’t mind the smarting, swollen eye he had given me. “Dirkin,” I called after him, “see you in Salt Lake.”

One class was really difficult for Yvette—computers. The computer terminals and commands were all in English, and that made the class hard for her. She didn’t believe she could pass the class, even if she did study, so she didn’t study. She thought that if she just prayed and prayed and prayed, Heavenly Father would help her. But she found out that wasn’t so. She took her test and didn’t pass. She learned she has to study in order for Heavenly Father to help her succeed. After that, she studied and prayed and did much better in computer class. “I have to do my part,” she says.

When I was preparing to go on a mission, I had an experience which touched my life forever. It had been a particularly bad day as I came home from school that May afternoon, the kind of day that made me want to lock myself in a room, away from the rest of the world. And that’s exactly what I did. I had always planned to go on a mission, always prepared for it. But now that the chips were down, I didn’t know if I actually had the courage to follow through with it.
Prospective missionaries are given a routine exam to try to detect potential problems which could later hinder them in the service of the Lord. It’s really no big deal. But I have cerebral palsy, and I’ve had quite a few major operations to correct problems in my muscles and joints which have been caused by my condition. I had been to one too many “routine” physicals in my life only to be told that major surgery was necessary to correct a problem which had been discovered by the physical.
I desperately didn’t want that to happen again, but I was really worried that something might be discovered which would not only affect my ability to serve a mission but the very quality of my life as well. I was also worried that I just might not be physically able to do the work—that I wouldn’t be able to “pound pavement” and knock on doors for several hours a day for two years, even if nothing else was wrong.
All of these thoughts were swirling through my mind as I lay alone in my room. I was depressed enough that, before long, I fell asleep. When I woke up, I was startled to find that the room was completely dark. I looked at the clock. It was 10:30 P.M. I’d been asleep for six hours. I lay awake wondering what to do when I received the prompting, “Read the Book of Mormon.” I dismissed this prompting three times, and three times it returned.
Knowing that I wouldn’t be able to get the prompting out of my mind unless I obeyed, I went up the stairs, turned the corner into the kitchen, and turned on the light. There on the table was a copy of the Book of Mormon. I sat down, flipped the book open rather casually and began to read. I read three or four chapters. I then began to read Alma, chapter 26.
In verses 8 and 9, Ammon expresses his joy at the success he and his brethren have had as missionaries among the Lamanites. In verse 10, Ammon’s brother Aaron rebukes him for boasting.
Ammon’s reply, in verses 11 and 12, chilled me to the bone, and I knew that I had received revelation from the Spirit: “I do not boast in my own strength, nor in my own wisdom. But behold, my joy is full, yea, my heart is brim with joy, and I will rejoice in my God.
“Yea, I know that I am nothing; as to my strength, I am weak; therefore I will not boast of myself, but I will boast of my God, for in his strength I can do all things.”
I knew that serving a successful mission wouldn’t be easy, and it wasn’t. I had many physical challenges. But I also knew that I could rely on the Lord’s strength when my own strength was running low. Together, we accomplished a lot.

Heather was the first one to follow his lead. “I took the discussions and started going to church with my dad,” she said. “I knew some of the girls at church who played on my soccer team, and they were really nice. Everybody seemed really nice there, and joining the Church just seemed like the right thing to do.”

“Thy people shall be my people” (Ruth 1:16).
“Before my mission, I studied geology,” says Anthony Clah of Shiprock. “I thought, ‘I can learn where gold is formed, find it, then retire.’” He smiles. “But my priorities changed. At the end of my mission, I felt impressed that I should spend my life helping as many young people as possible. I thought, ‘Coaching and teaching is the best way for me to do that.’ So I decided to pursue a degree in physical education, and that came with a coaching certificate.”
He soon met and married his wife, Alohilani, who is from Hawaii. After three years in Shiprock, Anthony was hired as an assistant strength and conditioning coach at Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah. Then it was on to a similar position at BYU–Hawaii, much to Alohilani’s delight.
“While we were there,” Anthony says, “I learned about the ‘aloha spirit.’ I had never seen anything like it before. I knew that God had brought us there, particularly me, so I could learn what it means to have a loving spirit.” The family also enjoyed living near the temple, attending regularly.
After a few years, however, Anthony felt prompted to move again, not to become a trainer in the National Football League, although he had received such an offer, but to return to the reservation.
“But Hawaii was my home,” Alohilani says, “and he knew I would want to stay.” The family fasted and prayed. Then Anthony and Alohilani went to the temple. “I kept remembering something I had recorded in my journal—a dream where I was standing in front of a group of Native American children, teaching,” Alohilani says. “I knew we needed to be with Anthony’s people.”
Today, the Clah family is, in a way, refining human gold. “We’ve brought the aloha spirit from the islands to the reservation,” Anthony says.
The Clahs often host kids who are struggling. As a high school football coach, Anthony helps draw out the best in student athletes—three have now gone on to play in college. Three of the Clah children are on missions, and the younger ones are building friendships and strengthening the Church where they live. And Alohilani is teaching Native American children.