Gospel Story Finder

On February 13, 1949, I sent a letter to Elder Widtsoe at Church headquarters in Salt Lake City. Elder Widtsoe answered my letter on October 3, 1950, explaining that he had been in Norway. I sent him a long letter in reply in which I asked him to help me to be quickly baptized, because I felt that I had proven myself to be a faithful son and servant of God, observing the laws and commandments of his kingdom. Elder Widtsoe asked President Samuel E. Bringhurst of the Swiss-Austrian Mission to go to Sicily to baptize me.
On January 18, 1951, President Bringhurst arrived on the island and baptized me at Imerese. Apparently, this was the first baptism performed in Sicily. Then, on April 28, 1956, I entered the temple at Bern, Switzerland, and received my endowment. At last, to be in the presence of my Heavenly Father! I felt that God’s promise had been fully fulfilled—the day had come indeed when the source of the book was known to me and I was able to enjoy the effects of my faith.

Last year’s Mutual theme, “Arise and Shine Forth,” reminded me of a girl I went to high school with named Lisa. She was a cheerleader. It was a large school, and I didn’t know her well.

One Saturday night I went to a farewell party for Lisa and her younger sister, who were moving to Idaho. Some kids were drinking alcohol, and they repeatedly offered beer to Lisa and her sister. I even heard one person shout, “Come on, just one drink! It’s your party, just one drink for us!”

But Lisa and her sister both refused the drinks. They just smiled and said no. I thought being a popular cheerleader meant that you did the “popular” thing—drink. I wasn’t a member of the Church then, but their strength and courage surprised me.

The importance of the Book of Mormon in the latter-day work cannot be overestimated. President David O. McKay once related a story about his father, Bishop David McKay, who, in 1881, was called to serve as a missionary in Scotland, his native land. He performed a great work and presided over the Glasgow District. In that year there was great persecution in the land, and whenever he tried to teach, it seemed that the people turned away. There was bitterness against anything relating to our faith and its origins. Antagonism seemed to arise at the very mention of the name of Joseph Smith. President McKay, speaking of his father, states:
“One day he concluded that the best way to reach these people would be to preach just the simple principles, the atonement of the Lord Jesus Christ, the first principles of the gospel, and not bear testimony of the restoration. In a month or so he became oppressed with a gloomy, downcast feeling, and he could not enter in the spirit of his work. He did not really know what was the matter, but his mind became obstructed; his spirit became depressed; he was oppressed and hampered; and that feeling of oppression continued until it weighed him down with such heaviness that he went to the Lord and said, ‘Unless I can get this feeling removed, I shall have to go home. I can’t continue having my work thus hampered.’
“The discouragement continued for some time after that, when, one morning before daylight, following a sleepless night, he decided to retire to a cave, near the ocean, where he knew he would be shut off from the world entirely, and there pour out his soul to God and ask why he was oppressed with this feeling, what he had done, and what he could do to throw it off and continue his work. He started out in the dark toward the cave. He became so eager to get to it that he started to run. … Something just seemed to drive him; he had to get relief. He entered the cave or sheltered opening, and said: ‘Oh, Father, what can I do to have this feeling removed? I must have it lifted or I cannot continue in this work;’ and he heard a voice, as distinct as the tone I am now uttering, say, ‘Testify that Joseph Smith is a prophet of God.’ Remembering then what he tacitly had decided six weeks or more before, and becoming overwhelmed with the thought, the whole thing came to him in a realization that he was there for a special mission, and he had not given that special mission the attention it deserved. Then he cried in his heart, ‘Lord, it is enough,’ and went out from the cave.”
President McKay went on: “You who know him know the mission he performed” (Cherished Experiences from the Writings of President David O. McKay, compiled by Clare Middlemiss, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1976, pages 11–12).

I hated early-morning seminary. I was raised in Boulder, Colorado, and all we had was early-morning seminary. I tried every excuse why I should not go: “Teenagers need their sleep.” “My life is too busy.” “I’m too tired to pay attention, so I don’t get anything out of it.” Nothing worked. Every morning around 5:45, my mom would wake me, push me in the direction of the shower, and get me out the door for seminary.
This was my pattern all four years until the late fall of my senior year. I arrived at seminary, but the teacher had not shown up. A good friend of mine stood up in front of the class and said, “Since the teacher isn’t here, I think we should just take turns reading aloud the assigned reading.”
Someone started reading 2 Nephi 33:10–11: “Hearken unto these words and believe in Christ; and if ye believe not in these words believe in Christ. And if ye shall believe in Christ ye will believe in these words, for they are the words of Christ, and he hath given them unto me; and they teach all men that they should do good.
“And if they are not the words of Christ, judge ye—for Christ will show unto you, with power and great glory, that they are his words, at the last day; and you and I shall stand face to face before his bar; and ye shall know that I have been commanded of him to write these things, notwithstanding my weakness.”
As I listened to these words, I thought, “I believe in Christ. If I believe in Him, then these words are true.” As I completed that thought, the Spirit touched me more profoundly. I was so struck by it that I remember looking around the room to see if others were feeling the same thing. They didn’t seem changed or appear as if they were feeling something different. This was a lesson that I was learning privately, just for me. The feeling didn’t go away. I carried it with me for the rest of the day. It was the beginning of a strong testimony for me.
I have often thought about that event and contemplated the act of being diligent. I had been attending seminary reluctantly for almost four years. But because I was diligent and obeying my mother’s desire that I attend, I was taught by the Spirit. If I had been at home in bed sleeping, I would have missed that opportunity. It is often when I least expect it, when I have been diligent day after day, month after month, and year after year attending church, reading the scriptures, or praying that the Spirit whispers to me and confirms the truth of the gospel. I am glad I learned that lesson at 17 while attending early morning seminary.

Even though I was baptized when I was eight years old, I didn’t always do the right things. When I was a teenager, I started hanging out with a group of guys, and we started getting into things I knew weren’t good.
After my sister got married, she helped me come back to the Church. I learned about the importance of the Word of Wisdom and treating my body well.
But one day, I committed another serious sin. I felt that I couldn’t have the Spirit or the power of the priesthood with me. I felt very worthless and didn’t think I’d be able to complete my responsibilities at church, like blessing and passing the sacrament.
But the gospel taught me that we can always repent. It was hard to go see my bishop and confess my sin. It was hard to know people could see me walk into the bishop’s office. But I wanted the Lord’s peace, and I wanted to repent.
My bishop said a prayer with me and told me that the Lord is always merciful to those who seek to repent and that I’d be able to recover from my mistake. I’ve now started reading the scriptures and praying, and I know it helps me resist temptation.

She was more emotional than I thought she would be about the news, and I found out why a few months later, on the day I was leaving for the MTC.
Mom found a minute to tell me this story. On the day I left to go back to Rexburg, without telling me, Mom had asked the family to join in a special fast for me, to ask that my heart would be softened and that I would make the decision to go on a mission.
The family gladly participated, and they closed their fast with a family prayer at nearly the exact time my car died on that lonely freeway.

Thank you a thousand times over for the March 1988 issue on service. About three months ago I was assigned a service project for a bi-stake youth conference, and I stewed and fretted over my assignment for days. Why me? What could I possibly do to make this a success and yet fun and rewarding for these 14–18-year-olds? And with so many youth, it just had to go over well.

Days later my son Cleon received his New Era, and I went through it as I always do. WOW!—an answer to my prayers. Our youth conference is over now, and I had to sit down and thank you and the New Haven Connecticut Stake that shared this idea.

Our service project was a big hit, and the youth learned a lesson also in missionary work, because they now realize that everyone doesn’t open their doors with welcoming smiles and eagerness to all that knock on them. Now I know why, evermore, I appreciate and enjoy getting the New Era each month.

Linda PeckWinston Ward Young Women PresidentRoseburg, Oregon Stake

My husband, Eddie Uele, and I have three children: Indie-Rose, Rollo, and Kamaukiterangi (Kamau). On 12 Jan. 2022, we tragically lost our then 2-year-old son, Kamau.
That afternoon, playing and laughing with our children in our bedroom, we suddenly realized Kamau was missing. Moments later, Kamau was found unconscious in our backyard. Eddie performed CPR until the paramedics arrived while my family and I pleaded for Heavenly Father’s help.
Kamau was rushed to the hospital where a team of doctors were waiting for him. When we arrived, Eddi and I were taken to a private room where we spent the next few minutes holding each other’s hands, still in constant prayer. A doctor finally walked in, sat down in front of us and began to speak.
I couldn’t hear any words that he was saying as everything around me had become still, quiet, and peaceful—then, as clear as day, I saw my son in front of me playing with a little toy truck, giggling and happy. It was then that I knew my son had died. I also knew that this was Heavenly Father’s way of preparing me for what was to come.
It wasn’t until later that evening when I truly understood the heavenly significance of that moment.
My mum held me as I cried in her arms, unable to bear the loss of my child. She asked me, “Are you angry with Heavenly Father?” I replied, “No, I’m not angry, but He ignored me, Mum. I begged Him not to take my son. I begged Heavenly Father to please let him stay. But He ignored me.”
My mum lovingly said to me, “Heavenly Father wasn’t ignoring you. He heard you. He performed a miracle by opening the veil to heaven and allowing you to see that He’s with Kamau, and Kamau will forever be safe in His arms.”

Ninety-year-old Samoan woman, Valaei Faloa’i Pritchard Taleni, is a loving matriarch in her family, and a friend to all who know her in her home village and abroad.
Her son, Leali’ie’e Tufulasi Taleni, is a senior lecturer at the University of Canterbury, and a bishop in the Mona Vale Ward in Christchurch.
He says that his mother “is a true pioneer of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Samoa. Her great legacy comes from the demonstration of the Samoan values of tautua (service), fa’aaloalo (respect), osiosiga (reciprocity), loto alofa (generosity), fa’asinomaga (belonging), ola fa’a’eagaga (spirituality), ola magafagafa (tolerance) and aofia faatasi (inclusivity) enveloped in the value of alofa (love).”
This year, Valaei celebrated her 90th birthday with family and friends. The milestone gave her and those who love her the chance to look back on decades of service to her family, her Church, and her community.
Born and raised in the village of Tafua on the island of Savai’i, Valaei married Leali’ie’e Ova Taleni from the village of Vaiafai, Iva on Savai’i.
Valaei began her life in the Congregational Christian Church of Samoa, also known as the EFKS church. Her husband introduced her to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and she was baptised in the McKay Branch (now a ward) on Savai’i.
Leali’ie’e and Valaei served in many Church callings over the years, including Leali’ie’e as branch president and bishop; and Valaei as Relief Society president, Primary president and Sunday School teacher.
In 1976, the couple attended the Church’s general conference in Salt Lake City, Utah, in the United States—leading to an article about their visit in the Ensign (now known as The Liahona).
The couple raised 15 children including some who were adopted.
Her son, Leali’ie’e Tufulasi Taleni, says their mother was a “key support for Dad throughout his service in the Church, and in his role in the village as matai (chief).”
She also served her family, her extended family, and her entire village throughout her life.
Bishop Taleni is grateful for his mother’s “passion for supporting us all in our education—this goes beyond her own children.” He says that she supported children from their extended family and village, “making sure they went to school.”
He recalls that “Mum used to run a shop in the village. That shop was very much operated not only to support our family but also to help villagers with their basic needs.” In later years, the shop was a hub for helping people with welfare needs.
“Mum is known for her generosity, hard work, and love for people. She was very organised and always conscious about making sure the family was well fed and looked after, with a clean house.” He said that the health and wellbeing of the family was always important to her.
Underpinning her life is her faith in God. “All her life she has studied the scriptures regularly and prayed and fasted faithfully. These are all part of her spiritual nourishment,” her son says. “She totally believes in tithing and contributing to fast offerings.”
Valaei continues to be a supporter of missionary service. Bishop Taleni remembers that their “home was the home of missionaries in the village for many years. She called these missionaries her own children and took care of them in many ways.”
Seven of her own children and ten of her grandchildren have served missions for the Church. Many of her children and grandchildren continue to serve in the Church.
The Church has grown over the years on the island of Savai’i. “When Mum joined the Church, during that time there was only one stake or district in the whole island, now there are six stakes,” Bishop Taleni says.
“Mum has seen many changes, many developments, Church events, programs, activities and services over the years. These have contributed to the growth of the Church. The missionary work and ministering have been huge on the island. Many miracles have happened. Mum and Dad’s own missionary service as Church leaders over the years have led to remarkable experiences. They left our own home village and moved to where the Lord called them to serve.”
“This really wraps up Mum’s whole story of service,” Bishop Taleni says. “She’s now at this age of her life, she may not be able to do much physically, but her legacy speaks volumes and will be forever in the hearts of her family, her children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, great-great-grandchildren, her village and community, and in the Church to which she belongs.”

David looked proudly at his project. He had worked very hard to make it perfect for Mommy. He had even stayed in at recess to finish it instead of play dodgeball with the rest of his first-grade class.
He had started out with a large sheet of plain white paper. Then he had carefully cut out bright yellow flowers, curly red flowers, and big orange flowers with long petals. Next, he had carefully glued them one by one onto his paper. With green crayons of two different shades, he had drawn tall stems and wavy leaves on all the flowers. In the very center of the largest yellow flower, he carefully spelled out “I love you.”
“What a beautiful garden, David,” said his teacher. “Your mother will be very pleased.”
“Thank you,” David answered politely. “I made it big so it would be special.”
After school, he went to the back of the room to get his jacket. He set his lunch box and the picture on the floor while he put on his jacket. When he reached down to pick up his picture, he heard an awful tearing sound. His foot had been on the edge of the paper, and a big piece tore completely off. Sadly, David threw the piece away. The rest was still big enough to be special, but not as big as he had wanted it to be.
He started walking home, holding Mommy’s picture carefully in one hand and his lunch box in the other. As he passed Mrs. Johnson’s house, the picture caught on a branch of her rosebush. One whole corner was ripped into shreds. He tore it off and threw it into a nearby dumpster. He hoped Mommy would like what was left of her picture, even though it wasn’t very big anymore.
A sudden gust of wind tore the paper from his grasp at the corner of his block. He chased it down the sidewalk and finally caught up with it, but not before it had landed partway in a puddle. Nearly everything that was left of Mommy’s garden picture was soggy.
As David entered his own yard, he tossed the damaged part into the big trash can near the gate, saving only the yellow flower that said “I love you.” He trudged into the house. “I have something for you, Mommy,” he called.
“What is it, honey?” she asked, coming to give him a big welcome-home hug.
“It’s a flower. It was a whole garden, and it was special because it was big, but this is all there is left.” He held the yellow flower out to her.
“Why, David, this is perfect!” exclaimed Mommy, taking the flower and giving him another big hug. “And it’s just the right size!”
She went over to the table, picked up her purse, and took out her new wallet. “Look,” she said. “It fits into the last empty window in my wallet. I can take my special flower with me everywhere I go, and it will remind me of the special boy who made it for me!”
David grinned a big, happy, “I love you” grin.

Since I joined the Church in 1994, many Church members have had an impact for good in my life. However, the positive influence of the prophet, President Gordon Bitner Hinckley, cannot be overemphasized.
I may not have met him physically, but spiritually I feel I have. Whenever I read his inspired messages, I imagine him talking to me one-to-one with his hand on my shoulder. A First Presidency Message entitled “Life’s Obligations” (see Liahona, May 1999, 2) helped me understand that although income is important, I do not need to be a multimillionaire to be happy. This message has brought me inner peace and satisfaction.
Encouraged also by the prophet’s counsel in that same message not to waste the great days of preparation for my future work, I decided to enroll in a computer engineering training college for one year. I was undertaking my one year of National Youth Service and resolved to use my time judiciously. At the end of the program, I knew how to repair and install computer systems. Now my first successful appointment after my year of National Youth Service is based on my added knowledge of computer systems.
I am closer to my friends and relatives than ever before. They understand and respect my standards now—simply because I’ve been living the counsel of the prophet. What a positive influence he has on me! How grateful I am to be under the guidance of a living prophet.

In 2015 Jacques Niambé, a clerk in the Abobo Côte d’Ivoire Stake, began having spiritual impressions that he needed to move his family to Dakar to help build the Church there. As young converts to the Church in 2006, Jacques and his brother had both wanted to serve missions. Family opposition, however, led Jacques to stay home while his brother served. “I told myself that even though I did not go on a mission,” he recalled, “I could serve the Lord in the way I could and where I was called.” Now, he felt the Lord was calling him to Dakar. At first, Jacques’s wife, Marie, did not think that the move was right for their family. Jacques asked her to pray about the decision and within a week, she had a dream that confirmed that the Lord needed them in Senegal.
Jacques went to Dakar first, planning to arrange for Marie to come later. At the time of the move, he knew of no Church members in Senegal. Alone, he studied the Book of Mormon, fasted three days a week, and prayed for the Lord’s guidance. Eventually, members in Côte d’Ivoire gave Jacques the phone number of Alphonse and Patricia Samadé, an Ivorian member couple living in Dakar. Jacques called the Samadés to arrange a time when they could meet. Meanwhile, Patricia asked friends in Côte d’Ivoire if they knew of a Church group in Dakar. She was given the phone number of James Chen.
Chen invited them to attend weekly meetings, and the following Sunday, Niambé and the Samadés met with the group for the first time. They worked together with other group members to share the gospel, inviting friends to be taught by missionaries outside the country via online video chat. They also began making arrangements for a missionary couple to come to Senegal.
On May 1, 2016, the Dakar Branch was organized with Jacques Niambé as president. Under his leadership and with the help of Elder Gary and Sister Helen Parke, the branch grew steadily. In February 2018, eight members of the branch traveled to Accra, Ghana, to attend the temple. In April, less than two years after the Dakar Branch was organized, it was divided, and Alphonse Samadé was called as president of the newly organized Parcelles Branch. Just weeks later, during a visit to Dakar, Elder Ulisses Soares of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles marveled at the potential he saw in the branches in Senegal. “The little branch I attended [in Brazil as a boy] became three stakes,” Elder Soares said after his visit. “I can see a similar future in Senegal.”

Bertha came into my life when I was 13 and just beginning junior high school. How well I remember that first day of school. The building was large and sprawling with endless halls and rows and rows of lockers. It seemed like a huge transit mall compared to the security of grade school. Most of the students had come on school buses from small farms and neighborhoods. This was certainly not a big city group, but we were still anxious to be popular and accepted. There were so many of us that we were going to be using the old grade school across the street for additional classrooms. I alternated between excitement and panic at the thought of finding my way around.
I had worked hard all summer babysitting and getting up at 5:00 A.M. to pick strawberries and cherries so I could earn enough money to buy nice school clothes. But even in all my fine new clothes, I felt awkward and uneasy.
My friends and I huddled together, trying to act nonchalant to hide the fear we felt but didn’t dare admit. We stood in awe as the eighth and ninth graders moved confidently through the halls laughing and teasing each other. It was a relief when the bell finally rang and we all headed to the big gym where it was announced that each seventh grader was to be assigned to an eighth grade “big brother or sister” to show them around. Each seventh grader was called, along with the name of his buddy for the day.
When my name was called along with Bertha Brown, I heard several of my friends gasp. I had no idea who Bertha Brown was, but it was obvious that some of them did. As soon as we were excused to go meet our big sisters, I was surrounded by girls telling me to hide quickly before Bertha could find me. It was clear that to be assigned to Bertha was the worst possible fate. I was so confused. Part of me said not to hide—that would be mean. But another part of me wanted to be popular, and that’s the side that won.
So the game began—the hiding, the giggling, and the running from imagined danger. We managed to escape from Bertha for the moment, but not before I caught a glimpse of her. It was true that she was not pretty. She was even a little scary to look at with her wild, dry hair. Her clothes looked like something a grandmother would wear, and her shoes were brown and ugly.
All day the big story was how poor little Sheron had to hide from Bertha. The one time that I really saw Bertha’s face she looked so sad. How could we be so mean to her? I thought. She hadn’t done anything to deserve it. There we were, a whole group of girls, running away from one lonely person. I knew that what we were doing was wrong. I didn’t want to play that awful game. What I really wanted was to talk to Bertha and tell her I was sorry. I knew that she must be embarrassed. But I wasn’t brave enough, so I let everyone else lead me. But oh, I was miserable!
Later that day I forgot about Bertha when I was called to Mrs. Jensen’s office. She had been my very favorite teacher in grade school, and now she was a counselor at the junior high. I could hardly wait to see her. All the way to her office I imagined all kinds of wonderful things. Maybe she wanted me to be her special assistant. Maybe she had something important that she wanted me to do. I almost ran through the halls in my eagerness to see Mrs. Jensen. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for her.
When I walked into her office, I could see tears in her eyes, and my heart nearly broke when she looked straight at me and said, “Of all the girls coming into seventh grade, I assigned Bertha to you because I thought that you were the one girl who would be kind to her!”
All the misery of the day came crashing down on me, and I sobbed as I realized that Mrs. Jensen did have an important assignment for me and I had failed her. I had failed Bertha. But, most of all, I had betrayed myself. The next day everyone else forgot about the game—and Bertha. I never did. I rarely saw her after that day. When I did catch a glimpse of her all alone, I wanted desperately to tell her how sorry I was. But I was too ashamed and too young in my understanding of compassion to know how much it would mean to her.
I never saw Bertha again after junior high, and yet she has been a very important part of my life. Even today I wish that I had found the courage to be her friend. How do you say you are sorry to someone that you have never spoken to and yet hurt so deeply that more than 30 years later you cannot forget?
I finally came to grips with what I had done to Bertha one Easter when I was studying about the atonement of Christ. How grateful I am to the Saviour for his sacrifice and for the realization that through his wonderful gift I can finally lay that burden down and find peace and forgiveness—not that I will forget, but that I can now use the lesson to improve my life and bless others.
Because of Bertha, I have never again knowingly been unkind to anyone, and I have tried to teach my children the same. I have a special place in my heart for those who don’t seem to fit in, for those who are lonely and forgotten. Because of Bertha it is easier for me to see beyond the surface and understand the heart of those I meet. I have tried to make it up to her by the way I treat others, but I will always wish that I could see her and say, “I’m sorry, Bertha.”

The gospel and the happiness it can bring are shared by President and Sister Yohanes Depalangga and their family in Bandung.

Brother Dapalangga was born into a Christian family. His father was a minister in a Protestant church. His grandfather had been the first native minister on their home island of Sumba. But his family’s religious beliefs did not fit “with my inner feelings, my conscience. Consequently, I was considered an unruly boy as I constantly challenged those beliefs. I attended a Christian university, and later a Muslim university, but I found no satisfaction when it came to religion.”

Many years later, as a married man living in Bandung, he saw two Latter-day Saint missionaries walking along the street.

“I was impressed with their appearance and especially with their name tags, which publicly declared they represented a Christian church. Most Christians I knew were reluctant to publicize their faith.”

After questioning the missionaries, he invited them to his home. Over the next few weeks, the missionaries taught Brother Dapalangga and his wife.

“Some of the things they taught were so new to us,” says Brother Dapalangga. “It was the first time we had heard of the Savior appearing on the American continent, the first time we had heard of the plan of salvation. For a time, I decided to avoid seeing the missionaries because I was afraid they were teaching false doctrine. But they persisted, even waiting hours for me to come home.

“Eventually, I decided that I should listen to all that the missionaries had to say and then make up my mind if it was the truth. They gave me a copy of the Book of Mormon, and I spent the best part of a week doing nothing but reading and pondering its contents.

“As I began to read, there seemed to be some kind of force telling me it was not true. But I fought against that feeling and prayed that I might be able to complete the book.

“Over a period of time, I prayed often that I might know if the Book of Mormon was true and if the missionaries were the Lord’s servants.

“One night, as I slept, I felt the Lord tell me to delay no longer. He told me the Book of Mormon was true and the missionaries were truly his servants. He told me I should take my wife and family to church, something we hadn’t done because we didn’t feel worthy to go.

“This was a special spiritual moment for me. Even now I want to cry as I remember feeling the love of God for me. I felt he cared for me, a man who had nothing, a man who had no great hope for the future. But I know now that the Lord has always taken care of me and my family. He has always watched over us, as he watches over all his children.

“I woke my wife and told her of my experience. She was impressed, as I was, that this was the answer to our prayers.”

From that moment on, the Dapalangga family absorbed the gospel teachings and attended church—but there was a six-month delay before their baptism in 1984. “We had lost our marriage certificate, and the missionaries would not baptize us without proof of our marriage in 1973. Finally we got a copy from a government office.”

President Dapalangga’s family in Sumba has welcomed his involvement in a Christian church. “My father came to visit me and asked me lots of questions. Finally, he told me that he believed the Church was true, but he could not bring himself to break away from his church or his congregation. He took home with him a Book of Mormon, and he uses it to teach the youth. He has sent a number of boys to stay with us so that we can teach them the gospel. Some of the boys have been baptized.”

From the time they accepted the gospel, the Dapalanggas have been active in the Bandung Branch. Within a year of his baptism, Brother Dapalangga was called to serve as second counselor in the branch presidency. He was called to be branch president in 1987. Sister Tini Dapalangga has been active in Relief Society as president and as a counselor in another presidency.

Through their various callings, President and Sister Dapalangga have had the opportunity to share in the challenges and problems that branch members have experienced. “But,” they agree, “even the most difficult problem can be overcome through prayer and a willingness to do the Lord’s work.”

President Dapalangga shares spiritual advice and scriptural knowledge not only with the branch members, but also with everyone who buys products from his sidewalk medicine stall. He tells his customers that the medicine may help them, but the Lord and his ways are the best “medicine” of all.

In addition to medicines, President Dapalangga also sells snakes—live ones. “I get the snakes from snake catchers or farmers in the central part of Java, where there are many cobras. People like to eat the meat and use the skins. They also like the snake oil as a salve for aches and pains.”

Even though they handle snakes, the Dapalanggas are wise enough to stay away from the poisonous fangs. In the same way, says President Dapalangga, “we strive to stay away from iniquity by living the gospel and building our spiritual strength.

“We should believe in the Lord with our whole heart and not depend upon our own understanding. If we accept the Lord and all his ways, he will lead us in the path we should go. I know from personal experience that this church is led by revelation, and we can have revelation in our own lives, too.”

Grant was only six weeks old when his father, H. Grant Heaton, was called to preside over the Southern Far East Mission. Unlike most children in the United States, Grant spoke his first words in Chinese. His little sister, Lisa Lee, who was born a year and a half after the family moved to Hong Kong, also learned Chinese first.
The mission home was filled with happiness until March 1958, when Grant was three years old. One day his neck became stiff, and there was pain in his chest. Soon he could not walk on his legs. President and Sister Heaton asked the missionaries to fast and pray for their son, but still his condition grew worse.
Grant’s father gave him a special blessing before taking him to the hospital. After tests, the illness was diagnosed as paralytic polio. The doctors said Grant would soon need an iron lung to help him breathe. Polio is not common among the Chinese, however, and the only iron lung in the country was being used by a British sailor.
By the end of a week in the hospital, Grant was completely paralyzed. Only his eyes moved, and the little body that had seemed healthy just a week before was quickly wasting away.
One morning Sister Heaton was with Grant. It was so hard for him to breathe that she thought surely he would soon return to our Heavenly Father. Two men came to the hospital that morning. They represented the Chinese Saints who had held a special fast and a prayer meeting the day before.
Both men had been members of the Church less than a year and neither held the priesthood, but they wanted to help. They asked permission to pray for Grant. Sister Heaton readily agreed and bowed her head to join them. She felt the faith of these humble Chinese men as they knelt beside Grant’s bed and prayed that this little boy’s health might be restored.
As they rose to their feet and left the room, Grant’s mother followed them down the hall. She thanked them and then went to the refrigerator where special food for Grant was stored.
Just as she opened the door, a familiar little voice called from down the hall and she turned around quickly to see Grant coming toward her.
“Look, Mommy,” he exclaimed with a happy smile. “I can walk!”
The doctors were amazed, but when the polio symptoms did not return, they let Grant go home. President and Sister Heaton and the missionaries gratefully acknowledged the power of the Lord and the faith of the Chinese Saints in behalf of their son.
Grant is now eighteen and lives with his family in Salt Lake City, Utah. He doesn’t remember his illness in China. His strong legs that helped him make the football team and wrestle for his high school don’t remember either!

“Shortly after I was called as a General Authority, I went to Elder Harold B. Lee for counsel. He listened very carefully to my problem and suggested that I see President David O. McKay. President McKay counseled me as to the direction I should go. I was very willing to be obedient but saw no way possible for me to do as he counseled me to do.
“I returned to Elder Lee and told him that I saw no way to move in the direction I was counseled to go. He said, ‘The trouble with you is you want to see the end from the beginning.’ I replied that I would like to see at least a step or two ahead. Then came the lesson of a lifetime: ‘You must learn to walk to the edge of the light, and then a few steps into the darkness; then the light will appear and show the way before you.’ Then he quoted these 18 words from the Book of Mormon:
“‘Dispute not because ye see not, for ye receive no witness until after the trial of your faith’” (Ether 12:6).
President Boyd K. Packer, President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, “The Edge of the Light,” BYU Magazine, Mar. 1991, magazine.byu.edu.

Several years ago, our only daughter decided to compete in a marathon. She trained and worked very hard, along with some of her friends. The race was difficult, and there were times when she wanted to quit. But she kept going, just concentrating on one step at a time. As she was approaching the middle part of the course, she heard someone behind her shout out, “Blind man on your left.”

She turned her head only to see a blind man overtake her, holding the hand of another man. They were both running the race. As they passed, she could see how tightly the blind man held the hand of his friend.

Overcome with her own physical pain, she was lifted as she watched these two men run hand in hand. He who could see was motivated by his blind friend, and the blind man depended upon the connection he had to his friend’s hand. Our daughter knew the blind man could never finish the race alone. She was inspired by the trust of the blind man and the devoted love of his friend.

An instance when Japanese leaders appreciated the Church’s timely assistance was when local priesthood leaders identified an overwhelmed refugee shelter set up at a school in an isolated area. Together with the public affairs council and the local Church welfare manager, the priesthood leaders arranged for food and other relief supplies to be delivered to the shelter, which was housing approximately 270 displaced tsunami victims.
Although those at the shelter were initially surprised to receive assistance from a Christian church, the second time Mormon Helping Hands volunteers came, wearing their yellow vests, one child yelled, “Here they come! I wonder what they brought this time!”
After receiving the donations, the shelter coordinator told Elder and Sister Grames, “Your church brought us the first meat and fresh vegetables we had after the earthquake.”
“It felt good,” says Sister Grames, “to really be a helping hand not only to the shelter but also to the priesthood leaders who were trying so hard to reach those in need.”
Elder Niiyama explains another positive result of the council’s efforts: “We found that sharing information about the Church’s relief work with members as well as outside opinion leaders was very vital to our public affairs objectives. I feel people outside of the Church now have a better image of the Church and members are more confident in the strength of the Church in Japan.”

Last fall I found myself with a wonderful but challenging opportunity to develop and teach Primary training through a video made entirely in Spanish. At one time in my life I was a Spanish speaker, but recently I had been speaking Portuguese and knew what it would take to relearn Spanish. I did all the things each of you do to complete a task that feels extremely difficult. I found help from capable and dedicated Hispanic sisters. Together we studied, prayed, fasted, and worked long hours. The day arrived to go and do the thing the Lord had asked, and we not only were fearful but felt our work was inadequate. We had worked up to the moment of delivery, and nothing more could be done. I wanted to start over.
Each of our husbands gave us priesthood blessings, and peace and calm started to come. Like angels, help came in the form of a sweet husband who set the alarm on his watch so he could pray for me every half hour during the recording, a cameraman whose eyes radiated “Good job,” and Primary leaders who had confidence in the workings of the Spirit and were able to communicate that with power. We ended up with a finished film that was helpful for our Spanish-speaking leaders. All who participated in it were partly surprised and entirely grateful for its success. We walked as far as we could go, and when we thought we might abandon our carts and drop by the wayside, angels somehow pushed from behind.

In the old museum on Temple Square there used to be a statue of two pioneers, husband and wife, their cloaks windswept, standing together beside a small grave. My seminary class once took a tour of Temple Square. We stopped and looked at the statue, and one girl said, “Isn’t that so sad?” and the girl next to her solemnly agreed, “It’s awful. How did they ever stand it?” Then we continued on to the Assembly Hall to exclaim over how beautiful the stained glass windows are.