Gospel Story Finder

I was soon to graduate, and a lot of my friends were interested in what I was going to do. I was grateful for my friends and their interest in me. I wanted to start my mission early and be the best missionary I could be.
One day I was sitting in sacrament meeting thinking about my friends when a forceful idea came into my mind. I knew what I had to do. I thought I’d put two pictures and my testimony in a Book of Mormon—one football picture of me after a great victory that they could all relate to, and one picture of me in my missionary suit. I’d get the hardback copies of the Book of Mormon, and I would engrave their names in each one so that it would be something nice.
I felt that the Spirit really helped me write my testimony. The first line says, “One can experience many victories in life, but no other experience can compare with the victories that come from obedience to the gospel of Jesus Christ.” Then I explained what the Book of Mormon is and that no man can get closer to God than by reading it.
I wrote down the names of some of my buddies and asked Heavenly Father to help me discern the people I should give these books to. I came up with a list of about 70 names and started getting real excited. I started buying copies of the Book of Mormon and having pictures made in mass quantities. I’d think up new names every day, and my list grew to a hundred, then 120, and after 140 I stopped counting.
I had a special fast and a blessing before distributing the books, and an interesting thing happened. The people I was giving the books to were touched.
I gave a Book of Mormon to my head coach, and he committed to me that he would read it and ask Heavenly Father if it is true. He embraced me as I left his office. We were both in tears, and he expressed an interest in helping to support me financially. He knew that a mission was financed by the individual, and he knew I didn’t have a lot of money.
I gave copies of the Book of Mormon to other members of the coaching staff, my teachers at school, to the athletic director, and to the president of our university. They were all very appreciative, and others offered me financial help too. It was unbelievable to see the receptiveness of these people. I knew the Holy Ghost was helping me.
And of all those people I gave copies of the Book of Mormon to, only one rejected the gift. He was a very good friend of mine, and I guess he had read some anti-Mormon literature. He told me he could not accept the book. I left feeling sorrowful, and I thought maybe I had a glimpse of what Heavenly Father might feel when his children don’t accept the gospel.
After I gave away all my copies of the Book of Mormon, the friends who hadn’t come to mind when I was making the list started asking, “What about me? How come I didn’t get one?” So why not? I went out and got some more.
One of my friends, Kris McKee, told me he started reading right away and that it felt good to him to know that God talks to man today through prophets. He said he felt impressed by the account of God the Father and Jesus Christ visiting Joseph Smith, and he promised me he would continue reading.
I had an open house before I left, and there I brought together my friends from school and friends from church. The missionaries were there, of course, and all my friends were eager to talk to them, to find out what I’d be doing for the next two years.
I left shortly after that, so I haven’t yet had any referrals or feedback. All I know is that my friends write me regularly and have an interest in the Church. And I pray the missionaries will one day teach them and that they’ll accept the restored gospel.

There was once a situation where some members in our ward were misjudging my friend and me. He and I were together a lot, serving and participating in activities, and rumors began that we were dating and doing something wrong.
The rumors also claimed that my family was being rude to my friend. Although we knew it wasn’t true, I was upset because he was always treated well in my home. I didn’t want to go to church and see or talk with the people who were spreading the false rumors.
However, I remembered that we go to church because of the gospel of Jesus Christ, not just because of the people there. People sometimes criticize others without knowing what’s really going on, and I knew this moment would pass and that I could forgive them. I shared these thoughts with my friend. By looking to Jesus Christ, we found peace.

Near Independence, Missouri, the Knights eagerly pitched in to establish the area as a center place for Zion and for a great temple. When twelve men laid the first log as a foundation of Zion, five were Knight relatives. Newel Knight was one of seven who dedicated the Jackson County temple site. For the Knight clan, such ceremonies stirred hope of a great future, despite the tragedies among them. Mother Knight had been so sick on the trip from Ohio that Newel brought along lumber for her coffin. Her “greatest desire,” he wrote, was “to set her feet upon the land of Zion and to have her body buried” there. She became the first Saint buried in Missouri. That year, death claimed two more Knights—one of them Newel’s sister Esther, the other his uncle, Aaron Culver.

One of the things I’m most grateful for is my mind. I know Heavenly Father gave us the ability to think and learn throughout our lives. For example, I have loved studying music and learning to play the guitar, piano, and organ. I like to show my gratitude for this opportunity by sharing music with others around me.
The young men and young women in our ward have an ongoing service project at a nearby home for Alzheimer’s patients. About 20 of us show up once a month and sing songs for the residents. We also just sit and visit with them afterward, sometimes eating treats together. I’m amazed at how much the residents enjoy and appreciate these short visits. Their faces just light up! They’re so happy to see us when we walk through the doors.
Sometimes when we go on the monthly visits, my older sister Grace and I play our guitars while all of the youth sing songs—often hymns—in the main room. I also play the piano on some of our visits. A few times when I’ve played songs that the residents know, they will sing along.
It’s a simple thing we’re doing, but I can tell it makes a big difference in their lives as well as ours. It’s nice knowing I can help brighten their day by spending time with them and sharing something I’ve learned.
Serving others is a great way to put my own problems in perspective. By sharing my talents and time, I’m reminded how blessed I am. I feel good making others happier.
Madeleine H., 15, Maryland, USA

Mister Biggins had to tie the yellow balloon around his wrist. It was the only yellow one in his whole bunch of balloons. There were red balloons and blue balloons and pink and green and white balloons, all bobbing and bumping together over his head. But the yellow balloon bucked like a bronco. It pulled straight up, harder than all the others, hunting the sky.
Mister Biggins was selling balloons. Other people were flying kites—a box kite, a dragon kite, and one like a bat. The wind was glad to have them all to play with. The wind was laughing, and Billy could hear him. “He’s whuffling,” Billy said. “May I fly a kite, Mommy?”
“When you’re older, Billy.”
“Older? I’ll be older tomorrow.”
“But not old enough,” said Mommy. “See how fast the big boys run to get their kites up? You’ll have to have longer legs like theirs to fly a kite.”
“When I’m in kindergarten?” asked Billy.
“Well, we’ll see.”
The March wind whuffled around a rock. Billy stretched out his arms. He ran and ran. “Maybe the wind will fly me,” he called to his mother. “What fun it would be!”
The wind flew kites and leaves and papers. But it didn’t fly Billy. It only whuffled.
“Mommy! Why won’t the wind fly me? It flies clouds and they’re bigger than I am.”
“The clouds are bigger, all right, but they’re lighter than air.”
“The papers aren’t.”
“The papers are flat and light enough to sail on the wind.”
Billy ran again. The box kite was flying. It wasn’t flat or lighter than air. A jet plane drew a streak like a chalk mark as it flew across the sky. Even the sun—round and yellow—seemed to be flying.
Only Billy wasn’t flying. He was jumping and jumping, but he wasn’t flying. Billy saw Mister Biggins with all the balloons jostling together over his head.
“Mommy, may I have a balloon?”
“All right, Billy. Which one?”
“A flying balloon. Mister balloon man, do you have a flying balloon?”
“I certainly do. And a nuisance it is! It’s that yellow one in the middle. But keep a tight hold on it. It wants to fly.”
“So do I! I want to fly!”
Billy danced excitedly while Mister Biggins untied the yellow balloon from his wrist. He was glad to be rid of the restless balloon. “Hold it tight or it’ll get away. They put too much helium in it,” Mister Biggins explained.
Billy held the yellow balloon’s string with both hands and felt it tugging and tugging. He jumped a little to see if the yellow balloon would fly him, but Billy was too heavy for the yellow balloon. He bounced back down the path to the park, jumping like a kangaroo with the yellow balloon. But being a kangaroo wasn’t flying.
The dragon kite dipped over his head. The March wind whuffled. Little clouds scooted in front of the sun. The sun was as yellow as the yellow balloon.
“It’s a flying balloon. Fly away, balloon!” And Billy let go of the string.
“You lost it,” said Mommy.
“It’s flying away! It’s Billy Balloon, and it’s flying away!”
The balloon went up and up, above the dragon kite, over the box kite, higher and higher to where the clouds scooted.
“See Mommy! See! It’s Billy Balloon. It’s chasing the clouds. Billy Balloon! Billy Balloon!”

At nineteen, I was keeping books and acting a policy clerk for Mr. Henry Wadsworth, the agent of Wells, Fargo and Company. My time was not fully employed. I was not working for the company but for the agent personally. I did the same as I had done in Mr. White’s bank—volunteered to file a lot of bank letters, etc., and to keep a set of books of the Sandy Smelting Company, which Mr. Wadsworth was doing personally.

To emphasize the truth of the above quotation from 1 Chronicles, I will remark that my action so pleased Mr. Wadsworth that he employed me to do the collecting for Wells, Fargo and Company, and paid me twenty dollars a month for this work in addition to my regular compensation of seventy-five dollars from the insurance business. Thus I was in the employ of Wells, Fargo and Company, and one of my day dreams had become a reality.

A story of the honesty of one of my ancestors has made a great impact in the lives of thousands of people who knew him—and still echoes in the minds and hearts of our family members after 128 years. My great-grandfather Georg Wolf was the leader of a group of Hungarians who immigrated to Brazil in 1891. Upon arriving at the designated Brazilian port, the mayor of that city gave him two thousand réis (the local currency at that time) and some machetes. With those resources this small group of people expected to open a 60km way through the dense Atlantic forest, where they would find the piece of land granted by the government for them to settle.
The money given by the government did not have to be accounted for, as it was a grant. However, since it was not all used to buy the necessary supplies for the group’s journey and settlement, my great-grandfather decided to go back to the mayor and return the unspent portion. Everyone in the community was quite surprised, as this group was starting a new life from ground zero in a different land and the unused money could bring them much more immediate comfort in their travels. But being honest and having peace of mind was more important to my great-grandfather.
Years later, that settlement became a prosperous region of the country with subsequent great spiritual and temporal blessings that continue in the lives of thousands today—including my own family.
I learned from my great-grandfather’s integrity that there are special temporal and spiritual blessings that can only be obtained as we are honest with men.

“I’m not going to Primary any more if I have to sit by Jimmy,” I told Mom as I got into our car.
“What does Jimmy do that bothers you?”
My sister, Christine, who is two years older than I am, cut in. “He’s a real pain. He’s always pulling someone’s hair or poking them in the side or untying their shoelace. I don’t blame Alan. I wouldn’t want to sit by him, either.”
I looked at her gratefully. It was nice to have an older sister, especially when she agreed with me.
Mom looked at me. “Is that why you don’t want to sit by Jimmy?”
“Yes,” I said. “He always gets me in trouble.”
“How does his being naughty get you in trouble?”
Christina came to my rescue again. “When someone keeps hitting you and pulling your hair, you finally hit him back. Then you’re in trouble too.”
“Is that what happened today, Alan?” Mom asked, looking me right in the eye.
“Well-l-l-l, I can’t just let him hit me for no reason, can I?”
“So you got into a fight in Primary?” Mom asked.
I knew she was disappointed in me. I hung my head and said, “Yes.”
“Did it make you feel better to fight with Jimmy?” she asked me.
“I thought it did then, but now I’m not so sure. You make me feel like I did something bad.”
“Are you sure it’s me that’s making you feel that way?” Mom asked.
“I don’t know. What am I supposed to do when he starts poking and hitting me? I don’t want the other kids to think I’m a wimp. Besides, he hits hard, and it hurts.”
Just then, Dad got in the car. I was thankful that Mom didn’t say anything about my fighting in Primary as Dad started the car and drove home.
Later in the afternoon, though, Dad came to my room. “Alan, Mom tells me that you had some problems in Primary today. I’d like you to tell me what happened.”
I felt hopeful because he didn’t seem angry. When I finished explaining, he said, “That sounds like a pretty difficult situation, all right. Do you think hitting Jimmy back will stop him from hitting you any more?”
“Well, I hope so,” I answered. “At least he knows I can hit just as hard as he can.”
“Yes, I suppose he knows that,” Dad agreed. “Do you think he likes you any better now?”
“Dad, you must be kidding! He hates me now.”
“Do you like him any better than you did before the fight?”
“How can I like him better after he made me get into trouble with everyone?”
“Alan,” Dad began, “one of the reasons we go to church is to learn to be more like Jesus Christ, isn’t that right?”
“Yes,” I answered, “and Jesus would never have hit Jimmy. But, Dad, what would He have done?”
“That’s a good question. Let’s see if we can find an answer.” He opened my Bible to Matthew 18:21–22 [Matt. 18:21–22] and asked me to read it out loud.
“‘Then came Peter to him, and said, Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? till seven times?
“‘Jesus saith unto him, I say not unto thee, Until seven times: but, Until seventy times seven.’”
I felt very discouraged. “There is no way I can stand to have Jimmy hit and poke me a zillion times before I can hit him back.”
Dad smiled. “The idea isn’t to wait until you can hit him back.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Let’s look in Matthew 5:43–44 [Matt. 5:43–44]. What does this say that we should do?”
I began reading out loud: “‘Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy.
“‘But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.’”
“Do you understand what Christ is teaching us here?” Dad asked.
“It sounds too hard for me to do.”
“Well, let’s make sure we understand what He is saying. First, He tells us to love our enemies.”
“Maybe I’m bad,” I said looking up at Dad, “but I don’t love Jimmy, not after what he did today.”
“But that’s just it, Alan!” Dad said. “Don’t you think the Savior knew how hard it would be to love our enemies? That’s why He told us how. He said to bless, do good to, and pray for those who do harm to us. He knew that it is very difficult to hate someone you are praying for and doing nice things for. Those kinds of actions change feelings of hate and anger into love and concern.”
I had a hard time believing that and it must have shown on my face. Dad said that he wanted me to try an experiment. He said that it wouldn’t be easy but that I should pray for Jimmy and do good things for him. He said that while I prayed for Jimmy, I should also pray that my feelings toward him would be softened.
That night as I knelt to say my prayers, I prayed that Jimmy would be happy. I also asked Heavenly Father to help me like Jimmy. I did that all week long. This part wasn’t too hard. It was the doing-good-things part that I was worried about.
I saw Jimmy only on Sundays because he didn’t go to my school. I didn’t feel ready to sit by him in Primary yet, but I didn’t want him to think I hated him, either. As I thought about it, I really didn’t hate him. I almost felt sorry for him. Maybe Heavenly Father was softening my heart.
All week I tried to think of something I could do for Jimmy. I figured he’d throw anything I gave him back at me, or make fun of me if I tried to do something nice. It was Saturday before I decided what I could do for him—something secret!
I asked Mom for three cookies to give him. I put them into a bag and typed a note on our computer: “To Jimmy, from someone who likes you.”
On Sunday, I asked Sister Lamb, my Primary teacher, if she would give the cookies to Jimmy without telling him whom they were from. She smiled at me and said she’d give them to him at the end of class.
During opening exercises and class, Jimmy made it obvious to everyone that he didn’t want to sit by me. He made several remarks that were pretty rude, but I just bit my tongue and waited. Before the closing prayer, Sister Lamb told Jimmy to stay a minute after the prayer.
I walked out of the room, but I didn’t go far. I wanted to hear what Jimmy said when he got the cookies. “Why are you giving me these?” he asked.
“Oh, they aren’t from me,” Sister Lamb said.
“They must be from you—no one else likes me.”
“No,” Sister Lamb said again.
“Well, who are they from?”
“I promised not to tell,” Sister Lamb said. I heard her closing her books, so I hurried away. I must have been smiling, because when I got in the car, Mom said, “Things must have gone much better in Primary today.”
“Yeah,” I said casually, “everything was OK.” Everything was more than OK. I felt happier than I had in a long time.
For three more weeks, I gave something to Sister Lamb to give to Jimmy. He began telling our class that someone must really like him. I could tell that he liked what was happening. It even seemed to me that he wasn’t as mean and rude as he used to be.
Then Dad asked me how I was doing with my experiment. I told him what had been happening, and he smiled. “That’s great, Alan! It sounds like you’re ready to make him your friend now.”
I looked up at Dad in surprise. “I thought that’s what I was doing.”
“You can’t go on giving him treats forever, Alan. At some point, you know, you have to give yourself.”
“Huh?”
“It sounds to me like Jimmy needs a friend. Maybe you could invite him over to play.”
“But, Dad,” I answered, “Jimmy lives a long way from us. He doesn’t even go to my school.”
“Well, why don’t you see if he can come over next Saturday. I’ll pick him up and take him home.”
“I’m not sure he’d come. And what would we do? I don’t even know what he likes.”
The call was easier than I had thought it would be. Jimmy sounded surprised, but he accepted.
Saturday came. I rode with Dad to Jimmy’s house. I was a little bit nervous when I knocked on his door. He opened it and called to his mother that he was leaving.
On the way home, I asked Jimmy what he liked to do. We soon discovered that we both liked soccer and roller-blading. When we got to my house, I discovered that he was a computer whiz. We spent most the afternoon playing games, drawing pictures, and making up stories on the computer.
When it was time to go, we walked through the kitchen to the car. Mom was baking chocolate chip cookies, and she gave us some as we went out the back door. As he bit into one, Jimmy looked at me suspiciously. “Hey, these are just like the cookies my secret friend gave me at church.”
I laughed. “Maybe you’ll have to come here to get treats from your secret friend from now on.”
“It’s a deal! And you can get treats at my house.”

“I’m just so confused why I had a prompting to serve her when she didn’t even appreciate it.”
My friend Sarah (name has been changed) was tearfully explaining to me how she had heard that an old acquaintance had recently had a baby, and Sarah, who had been praying for service opportunities, had felt prompted to offer to bring her dinner. Her friend accepted the offer.
But things didn’t go as planned.
Things kept going wrong while preparing the meal, and when Sarah got to her friend’s house an hour later than planned, her acquaintance coldly told her that her family had already eaten and shut the door.
Sarah was devastated at how things had gone, but she mostly felt confused—she didn’t know if she had actually received a prompting from the Spirit to serve her friend or if it had just been her own idea.
Which brings us back to the conversation that Sarah and I had.
Sarah told me that when she returned home from her disastrous attempt to serve her friend, she asked Heavenly Father why she had felt the prompting when things went so badly. And as she quietly listened, she had a distinct thought: “The answer is bigger than you think.”
As I pondered what she was telling me, I suddenly thought of a general conference talk I had recently studied—“Infuriating Unfairness,” by Elder Renlund.
I felt prompted to share some of what he taught: “Jesus Christ both understands unfairness and has the power to provide a remedy. Nothing compares to the unfairness He endured. … He understands perfectly what we are experiencing.” 5
I offered the idea that maybe this prompting was meant to allow Sarah to increase her appreciation and love for the Savior. As I shared this thought, goosebumps erupted all over my arms, and I received confirmation that I was feeling the Spirit.
In that moment, I realized just how many ways the Holy Ghost had spoken to us:
Sarah had a good thought to serve someone.
A small voice in her mind answered her question after praying.
I had a sudden thought about Elder Renlund’s talk, and it turned out to be what Sarah needed to hear.
I felt a comforting feeling after sharing that confirmed my thought was from Him.
We finished our discussion feeling the Spirit and having more confidence that He does speak to us. It also renewed our faith that even if promptings don’t turn out the way we anticipate, they are still from the Holy Ghost.

Ethan was very brave. He valiantly defended his home and family against any bad guys that threatened it. But sometimes Ethan got tired. It seemed like every day there were new bad guys to fight. Yesterday there had been a ferocious dinosaur, the day before there were growling pirates, and today he faced man-eating sharks. Ethan could imagine the sharks swimming across the carpet in his bedroom.
“Come on, Kate, grab my hand,” Ethan called out to his little sister. “I will save you.”
Kate giggled and put her small hand into his.
“Sharks have long, sharp teeth,” Ethan said as he led her in a zigzag path across the room. “And they can bite. Look out!” He pulled Kate away from the bed, where he pretended a very large shark was hiding.
When they reached the bedroom door, Ethan peeked out and saw his mother sitting at the kitchen table folding laundry. She was listening to Primary music and softly singing along.
“Run to Mom, Kate,” Ethan urged. “She’ll protect you.”
Laughing, Kate ran to their mother, who scooped her up in a hug.
Later that day Ethan discovered some army men lurking behind the family room couch.
“Bang!” Ethan said, pointing his finger. “Bang! I got you.”
Mother frowned. “No shooting people, Ethan,” she said.
“But Mom,” Ethan protested, “he was a bad guy. I’m only shooting bad army men, not the good ones.”
“I don’t want any killing in our house,” Mom said.
Ethan was puzzled. How could he protect his family without killing all the bad guys?
After dinner, Ethan’s family had scripture study. Ethan liked to read the scriptures. Right now they were reading the Book of Mormon, and there were lots of bad guys and lots of good guys in it. There were good kings, good soldiers, and good missionaries.
They had finished the part in the Book of Mormon where Nephi’s family had crossed the ocean in their ship. The ship went through a big storm before arriving safely in the promised land. Now they were reading the part where Lehi was talking to his family about how the Lord had watched over them on their journey.
Ethan was listening very carefully as his dad read. He knew that soon Dad would stop reading and ask, “What is happening now? What does it mean?”
Ethan’s dad read, “‘And if it so be that they shall keep his commandments they shall be blessed upon the face of this land, and there shall be none to molest them, nor to take away the land of their inheritance; and they shall dwell safely forever’” (2 Ne. 1:9).
“Does that mean,” Ethan blurted out, not waiting for Dad to ask, “that if we keep the commandments we will be safe, too?”
“Yes.” Dad smiled. “It certainly does.”
“How?” Ethan asked. He wondered how keeping Heavenly Father’s commandments would keep away ferocious dinosaurs, growling pirates, and other bad guys.
“Well,” Dad said, “I think you were too young to remember, but when we first moved into this house, we had a special prayer and dedicated our home to Heavenly Father. We prayed that it would be a safe place where the Spirit can dwell. So now we try to do all the things the prophets tell us to keep a good spirit in our home.”
“Like having family home evening,” Mom said.
“And watching only good things on TV and on the computer,” Dad said.
“And reading good books and listening to good music,” Mom added.
“And being kind to each other,” Dad said. “All these things keep our home safe from evil.”
“Scripture study, too?” Ethan asked.
Mom nodded. “Especially scripture study.”
Ethan felt relieved. He was happy to know he wasn’t the only one working hard to keep his home safe.
The next week, Ethan was still very brave. He had to scare off a T. rex hiding behind the trees in the backyard. He pulled the plug on a giant octopus in the bathtub. He even discovered a monster troll hiding in the coat closet and had to tell it, in a very loud voice, to “leave now, and never come back.”
But now Ethan knew he wasn’t working alone. He knew that whenever Mom listened to his prayers, or Dad gave a priesthood blessing, or Kate shared her toys with him, they were all bravely working together to keep their home a safe and loving place to live.

Joseph F. Smith was called on a mission when he was fifteen years old. He served in the Hawaiian Islands for over three years.
After his mission, he was traveling through California with a small group of men while returning to the Salt Lake Valley.
One afternoon, a mob of drunken men on horses rode into their camp. They were swearing, shooting their guns, and yelling, “Kill the Mormons!”
The other men in the camp ran and hid in the bushes by the creek. Joseph F. was gathering firewood. Why should I run from those men? he thought.
The leader of the mob rode up to Joseph F. and aimed a gun at him. “It’s my duty to kill every Mormon. Are you a Mormon?” he yelled.
Joseph F. stood tall. He looked the mob leader in the eyes. “Yes, siree; dyed in the wool; true blue, through and through.”
The mob leader was surprised. “Well you are the … pleasantest man I ever met! Shake, young fellow. I am glad to see a man that stands up for his convictions.”
Then the mob rode off. Joseph F. and the other men were not harmed.

In Belfast, in quieter times, I had two roommates—girls of another faith whom I had met through a mutual friend. None of us had any extra money. Carol and Anne were both midwifery students, and I was saving for a postgraduate nursing course.
Our apartment was dismal, faded, and hard to bear, but we could find no other place within our means.
Nevertheless, Carol and Anne decided to call the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children and offer to give a Christmas party for 12 needy children. Of course, I agreed to help with the work and the financing as did Carol’s sister Marian.
Our Christmas tree was two feet high, decorated with nine small glass balls, one package of tinfoil icicles, and a star we had made from the foil inside a cracker box. The room was decorated with a few streamers and a dozen balloons. The food was simple—fried potatoes and sausages, grilled tomatoes, cookies, and orangeade. Fancy food is almost unknown to ghetto children, and we were afraid they would not eat anything unfamiliar.
Besides, we couldn’t afford it. The 12 gifts were small and inexpensive: a string of plastic beads, a doll’s feeding set, a young child’s picture book, small toys and games. And, remembering the girl on the sidewalk, I bought a package of clay.
The children arrived semiclean and in their best rags. Eleven, twelve, thirteen! One of the girls had come with her toddler sister, who had refused to stay at home. That presented a problem.
In those days my annual project for the Relief Society bazaar was dressing little plastic dolls in sturdy clothes for girls to play with. Several such dolls were in my room. I quickly wrapped one of them in the last scrap of tissue paper for our extra guest and hurriedly put it under the tree.
We played their games; they played our games. We told stories; they related past experiences. We sang songs and grew decidedly tired of the children’s favorite, “Jingle Bells.”
“Last year,” announced the oldest girl, trying hard to be sophisticated in an ill-fitting sheath and high heels much too large, “I was to a party in the Linen Makers’ Hall. Hundreds of us there was, and a tree 30 feet high.”
“Was it grand, but?” asked a slightly envious voice.
“It wasn’t, for no one had time to talk with us like these good ladies are doing.”
We served the simple food, which first brought forth cries of delight and then the silence of serious eating.
So the Relief Society lost another plastic doll. This time it was wrapped in writing paper, and we pretended it had fallen behind the tree. “Tis the best party I was ever at,” someone announced with satisfaction.
“I felt right to home.”
“Indeed it was grand, Missus,” seconded another voice. “For whenever we’uns wanted something, one of you ladies was near.”

I witnessed this truth during a particularly difficult week on my mission. Everything seemed to be going wrong: I wasn’t getting along with my companion, people we had been teaching had suddenly stopped talking with us, and the weather was extremely hot.
I felt like God had forgotten me. As I was walking down the street in the blazing heat, I thought: “How could you forget about me? It’s so unfair. I’m trying so hard!” And in that moment, a drop of water hit me in the eye—right between my eyebrow and glasses. At first, I was so annoyed that I didn’t even consider the cloudless sky. And then, seconds later, another drop of water hit me in the same spot. I stopped and looked up, and the words “Jacob, I haven’t forgotten you” entered my mind and heart.
I began to cry. I knew those words and raindrops were a message from Heavenly Father. I felt His perfect love for me and for all of His children. I was reminded of who I was and that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ would never abandon me—or any of us.
Now when I am struggling to remember my divine identity, I ponder this experience to remind myself that I, and all of Heavenly Father’s children, have great worth.

When Samuel Owusu Amako left his native Ghana to go to The Gambia in the hope of having the opportunity to obtain a travel visa, he never imagined that he would spend the rest of his life there helping establish The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in that country. And he could have never imagined that the tender mercies of the Lord would bring him full circle on his journey along the covenant path.
Samuel grew up in Cape Coast, Ghana, as a devoted Seventh-day Adventist. He knew of the Church through his friend Alexander Asare Duodu, a friend from his teenage years who would invite him to services and activities. The lifestyle and conduct of Alexander and others, such as Charles Amoah, Ernest Arko, Stephen Amoah, impressed him greatly, and he began to live his life in accord with those attributes. But whenever he was asked if he’d like to join the Church, which happened to him regularly, he always declined. He admits that part of the reason was fear of telling his mother, who was staunch in her beliefs. And he just wasn’t ready to make the commitment.
One day, after getting another invitation to be baptised, he decided to accept just so that he could be free of the constant invitations. His plan, however, was to just not show up on the day of the baptism. But when the day came, as he explained, he “failed to flee.” He was baptised by Elder Anthony M. Kaku and confirmed by Elder John K. Buah on December 13, 1986.
One year and one month after his baptism, Samuel Owusu Amako was called to serve as a full-time missionary in the Ghana Accra Mission. He began his service in January 1988, and midway during his service, in June 1989, the government of Ghana suspended all Church activities and public meetings. With his missionary service being interrupted for a while, Samuel went to teach in a private elementary school in Cape Coast.
When “the freeze,” as the restrictions were called, was lifted in 1991, he resumed his missionary service. During his mission he encountered people from different parts of the world, and tales of their countries intrigued him. So, after returning home from his mission in December 1991, he made plans with some of his friends from his early days in the Church, who had also completed their missions, to get travel visas and to see the world. Obtaining travel visas in Ghana to certain countries that were of interest to him and his friends proved to be difficult during that time, so in November 1993, he and some of his friends, including his high school classmate Albert Frederick Alexander, who had also joined the Church and had become a returned missionary, left Ghana. They arrived in The Gambia in December 1993 where they had heard it was easier to get travel visas. His friend Charles Amoah was the first among them to travel to The Gambia.
What is interesting is that when Samuel and his friends joined their friend and brother, Charles Amoah, in The Gambia, Samuel’s interest in pursuing his goal of travelling abroad waned considerably for reasons he admits he doesn’t know and he never bothered about. Samuel eventually abandoned his desire to travel abroad from The Gambia. He had somehow found The Gambia as a home, which he now strongly feels that God knows something about that.
In The Gambia, Samuel and his friends met often in the home of his friend Charles Amoah to partake of the sacrament and teach one another. This was in 1994. Sometime during the latter part of 1994, they met the Endecotts. Michael Endecott was a member of the Church from the United States and was living in The Gambia with his family. The friends met in the home of the Endecotts on a couple of occasions till the Endecotts travelled back home to America. During that time, two of the Endecotts’ sons were baptized in The Gambia.
Later all the friends, except Albert Frederick Alexander, left The Gambia. Some travelled back home to Ghana whilst some travelled abroad. Charles Amoah travelled back to Ghana and is currently serving as a counsellor in a mission presidency in Cape Coast; Stephen Amoah travelled to the United States and lives in Utah with his family. Ernest Arko sadly passed away in Cape Coast after a brief illness during one of his visits to Ghana. Samuel Amoah lives in Ghana.
Samuel, however, stayed behind and found employment in The Gambia, hoping to still, at some point, realize his dream. During the early days of his employment, he noticed a beautiful young woman working in another department. As he describes it, “My antenna was switched on,” and he enquired after her, wishing to know if she were married. He was told definitively that she was not, so he approached her to ask for a date. She rebutted him, telling him she was married already. Recounting her response, Samuel laughed and said, “She lied!”
Persistence paid off and eventually his requests for a date proved fruitful. After a period of courtship, Samuel and Fatou Badjan were married. There was no Church presence in The Gambia at that time, and Fatou was Muslim, so they were married civilly and began to raise their family there. But Samuel’s faith and dedication to the Lord never wavered—he knew that the covenant path leads to a temple sealing. Without any formal Church presence in The Gambia, Samuel and his friend Albert F. Alexander met every Sunday with their families to partake of the sacrament. Samuel and his friend sometimes invite friends to join them.
When some members moved into the area, and his missionary efforts continued. The little congregation grew, and for the next 25 years, he welcomed Church members and friends into his home for Church services. These efforts were unofficial as the Church did not have legal status in The Gambia, and the country had not been dedicated for the work of the Lord.
In June 1988, Elder Terrence Vinson, then-President of the Africa West Area Presidency, accompanied by his counsellor, Elder Marcus Nash, visited The Gambia. They met with Samuel, his wife, Fatou, their children Sampson, Daniel, Princess Amelia, Hannah, his sister Juliana Sandra and Albert Frederick Alexander, his longtime good friend, fellow Church member and fellow returned missionary.
Elder Vinson and Elder Nash authorised them to meet as a group and hold sacrament meetings. It was an exciting moment. The two sons of Samuel, namely Sampson and Daniel, were later baptized by Samuel after the visit by the General Authorities.
The year 2022 turned out to be what Samuel describes as the most momentous year in the history of the Church in The Gambia.
In January 2022, President Hugo Martinez, President of the Africa West Area Presidency and his First Counsellor, Elder Larry S. Kacher, also visited The Gambia. They met with Samuel and his family and the group in The Gambia.
In February 2022, Elder D. Todd Christofferson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles came to The Gambia to dedicate the country and to meet with government officials to pave the way for the Church’s legal status.
Fatou Badjan Amako, Samuel’s wife, finally joined the Church and was baptised in February 2022, shortly after Elder Christofferson’s visit.
Finally, on June 10, 2022, the Banjul Branch of The Gambia was formally organized, and Samuel Owusu Amako was made its first branch president. In September of that year, Daniel Nana Kofi Owusu Amako, Samuel’s second son, was called as the first missionary of the Church from The Gambia to serve a full-time mission. He served in the Congo Brazzaville Mission.
Princess Amelia Nana Ama Ahima Amako, Samuel and Fatou’s eldest daughter, joined the Church in October 2022.
In August of 2024, Samuel and members of his branch made the journey from The Gambia to Accra, Ghana. He was returning to the place where he began his missionary service so many years before, and where there is now a temple, so that he and his family could be sealed in the house of the Lord. They met their son Daniel there, who was returning home from his mission just in time for the sealing.
Besides the unspeakable joy of becoming an eternal family, Samuel experienced the additional sweetness and tender mercies of the Lord in a most special way. The president of the Accra Ghana Temple, who sealed Samuel and his wife and children, was John K. Buah, the very same missionary who had confirmed Samuel a member of the Church. And the incoming temple president, who will replace President Buah, is President Anthony M. Kaku, who baptized Samuel. According to Samuel, “God is the unfailing compass of our lives.”
A pioneer in establishing the Church in Gambia, Samuel Owusu Amako reflects on his reasons for going to the Gambia in the first place: to get a travel visa and see the world, something which has never happened. “How did I miss that?” he asked rhetorically with a big smile just before returning to his home with his family. He knows that he was led to The Gambia for a higher purpose, a mission that began on that harmattan-cold December morning in 1986 when he “failed to flee”.

Soon after my baptism, people in my ward began asking me how I felt about serving a mission. To be honest, I didn’t know exactly what to say. The idea of leaving my family and school to serve a mission seemed absurd.
Then one day I started thinking about my conversion. I remembered the missionaries who had taught me, who had patiently answered my questions and helped me understand the gospel. I realized that without their help, I never would have discovered the true Church. As soon as I made that realization, the desire to serve blossomed in my heart. I could feel the Spirit telling me that I should serve a full-time mission.

In addition to all his many other virtues, President Kimball has a wonderful sense of humor. While traveling in Europe a couple of years ago, it became necessary to stay over for a full week before going to Poland to finalize arrangements for official recognition of the Church in that land. I thought perhaps we could use the time to climb the Matterhorn, visit the fjords of Norway, or explore beautiful England by taking a boat trip on the Thames River, but instead, President Kimball said he wanted to visit the missions in Italy, Austria, and Germany. He left it up to one of the members of the Quorum of the Twelve and myself to arrange the itinerary. We arranged special meetings each night in a different city or country.
As soon as we arrived in the first mission, President Kimball asked when the missionary meeting was to be held. I told him that we hadn’t planned any missionary meetings because all of the missionaries would be attending the general meeting that night. He said he still wanted a special missionary meeting. I told him the reason we didn’t plan a separate meeting with the missionaries was because of the time and energy required. He replied, “I know what you are trying to do. You are trying to save me, but I don’t want to be saved. I just want to be exalted!” I then went to the phone and arranged meetings all over Europe for the balance of our trip.

Illustrations by Shauna Mooney Kawasaki
Good morning, Mister Matt and Miss Mandy.
Good morning, Mister Bernini.
What’s this?
It’s a thank-you gift for helping us stay safe.
We really appreciate it.
And we think you’re a nice person. Thank you.
Well, thank you right back. Now let’s get a couple of very nice children across this street.
At Mr. Bernini’s home.
I got a raise this morning.
A raise? How much?
This much!

One of the projects that the students at Mount Si really had to work hard to complete was the painting of the school halls. It was a huge job, but Sue and other student government officers decided it could be done. They needed more than 200 students to come and help with each step of the project—preparing the walls, applying an undercoat of paint, then the main coat of paint, and finally, the colored trim.

The assistant principal, said, “I walked into the first meeting, and I knew right then that they were going to succeed because Sue was organized and ready to begin. In a notebook she had inspirational sayings and a list of what needed to be done and a schedule for each step. And she had invited all the right people to the meeting. She had invited some students that she saw as leaders. She had invited someone from the school’s maintenance staff. She got me there. She understands organizational skills.”

The big painting project was successful, but not before Sue managed some last-minute crises. The first day of the four-day project was bright and sunny. For that time of year, a sunny day was rare. “Suddenly I panicked,” said Sue. “Who would want to come paint the school on a nice day like that?”

But people did show up—in time for the second crisis. After the walls were prepared for painting, it was time to apply the undercoat of paint. Just as more than one hundred students were ready to start painting, the school custodian rushed up to Sue and showed her the label on one of the cans. The flammable undercoat was supposed to be used only in well ventilated areas. They opened every window and door, turned off the electricity to avoid sparks, and covered all the electrical outlets. In the meantime, Sue had retreated to ask for some additional help. “I found an empty room, and got down on my knees.” Everything went smoothly. The danger was avoided. And the group had a great time. It was hard work but really a lot of fun too.

After giving the school halls a new coat of pale gray paint with maroon trim, the students under Sue’s leadership took new pride in their school. Now, if anyone even thinks about defacing or vandalizing the walls, they are warned by other students, “Don’t do it. I painted this wall, and nobody is going to write on it.”

On one occasion I met with a couple who had been referred to me by a bishop. As the couple started telling me about all the complaints against each other, I attempted to guide their conversation toward the affirmative aspects of their relationship—qualities they had first admired in each other, the deep pleasures they had shared, the mutual goals they had set many years before.
They began to talk about their family, friends, and other important people in their lives; it was apparent that they really did enjoy this aspect of their relationship. This led to a review of their goal for financial security, which they had successfully met. As we talked further, the antagonism gradually drained away. After a few additional meetings, the couple agreed to give their marriage a second chance.

A newly married graduate student at England’s University of Oxford, Gerrit W. Gong learned through personal experience that when we love the Lord and trust Him, He will help us, guide us, and strengthen us.

Gerrit was a Rhodes Scholar working to complete two graduate degrees, one of them a doctorate. At the same time, he was serving in the Oxford Ward bishopric. He and his wife, Susan, remembered advice that Elder David B. Haight (1906–2004) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles gave when he performed their marriage in the Salt Lake Temple. “He told us always to have a calling,” Elder Gong says. “We knew if we trusted God and did our best, He would help us.”

Gerrit and Susan did receive “divine help and tender mercies,” he says. While continuing in the bishopric, Gerrit finished all the academic requirements for a doctoral degree, except his dissertation. He asked the bishop of the Oxford Ward, Alan Webster, for a priesthood blessing. In the blessing, Gerrit received this promise: “Continue doing all you can, and the Lord will bless you.”

Two ward members who were experienced legal secretaries volunteered to help type his manuscript, and Gerrit was able to finish his dissertation in a few months. In fact, he completed both a master’s and a doctoral degree in just over three years. Upon graduation he also accepted a faculty research position at the university. His experience at Oxford strengthened his trust in the Lord, trust that endures to this day and will continue to bless Gerrit W. Gong as he now serves in the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.