Gospel Story Finder

One day a man came to the office and said that he was a painter. My father agreed to pay the man to paint our barn. Father called and told the owner of the paint store to give the man some paint, and Father would pay for it.

The man painted the barn and left town. Later the paint store owner called and told Father that the man had taken too much paint for one barn. I guess he intended to sell the extra paint to someone else and make more money. Father didn’t become angry or upset. He said, “Well, we have our painted barn, and somewhere that man knows that there is someone who was willing to believe in him.” My father could always sleep at night because his conscience was clear.

It was then that I moved to Kinshasa to commence my studies in law. Once I arrived in 2007, I enrolled at the University of Kinshasa. In my first year in 2008, we experienced a total strike at the University of Kinshasa. During the strike, I left the neighborhood where I lived to go to the commune of Masina to stay with my older brother.
And once in Masina, during the strike, I discovered The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in the neighborhood where I lived with my older brother.
I made the decision to go to a meetinghouse of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on a Sunday. When I arrived at the building, a brother greeted me at the door and invited me to come inside. I then participated in the Sunday service and afterwards I was placed in contact with the full-time missionaries.
I took the missionary lessons for two weeks. After being taught, I had a strong desire to be baptized.
However, this was the beginning of strong opposition from within my family and my older brother who was like a guardian to me. He told the village to inform everyone that I wanted to become a member, that it is a bad church, and that no one should support me or contribute money to support my academic studies.
Consequently, I dropped out of law school and began preparing for a full-time mission. Thanks to Bishop Mutambay’s advice and direction, I remained a member of the Church despite opposition and began preparing for my full-time mission. I served in the Lubumbashi DR Congo from June 2013 to June 2015.
After serving as a full-time missionary, I came home and was fortunate to find the Church’s inspired Perpetual Education Fund program which allowed me to achieve my goals in completing my law studies through this program instituted by President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008).
Today, I am a lawyer. My wife, Mireille, and I are parents of four children: Ross Power Kongo Kongo, Ron Cross Kongo Munemeka, Blacke Prestones Kongo Ibula, and Brian Lesser Congo. I accepted adversity by relying on my faith without knowing what was going to happen to me when I was abandoned for having chosen the restored Church.
I know that God is our Heavenly Father and despite difficulties and opposition He is there to help us. I will never be disappointed with the path I took and my decision to join His church.
I know this was the best decision I ever made. I will be forever grateful. Joseph Smith is the prophet of the Restoration, and I am grateful to be in the Church of Jesus Christ.

World War II had just ended, and most people in Germany had very little food or money. My birthday was coming up just a few weeks before Christmas. I did not expect to receive any Christmas or birthday presents, knowing quite well—even as a young girl—that our parents were struggling to meet our basic needs. In our big city, hunger was always present. It was a sad and dark time.
On the day of my birthday, to my surprise and delight, a wonderful present—just for me—was placed on the kitchen table. It was the most beautiful present I could have imagined: a tiny little Weihnachtsbaum, a Christmas tree, just one foot (30 cm) tall, covered with delicate handmade ornaments of tinfoil. The tinfoil reflected the light of our living room in an enchanting way. As I inspected the tinfoil ornaments, I realized with amazement that they were filled with small pieces of caramelized sugar. It was like a miracle. Where did my mother get the tiny evergreen tree, the tinfoil, and the rarity of sugar?
To this day, I do not know how she made this miracle happen at a time when none of those precious things was available. It remains in my heart as a symbol of my parents’ deep love for me, as a symbol of hope, love, and the true meaning of Christmas.
During the Christmas season, we still have in our home a Christmas tree, now decorated with electrical lights and ornaments of every variety. When we are together with our children and grandchildren, the beauty of the tree and the sparkling of the lights warm my heart and bring back sweet memories of a happy family moment that came from a tiny tree with shiny tinfoil ornaments.

Elder Kimball called on another occasion. “Bishop Monson,” he said, “I have learned that there are two Samoan boys living in a downtown hotel. They’re going to get in trouble. Will you make them members of your ward?”

I found these two boys at midnight sitting on the steps of the hotel playing ukuleles and singing. They became members of our ward. Eventually each of them married in the temple and served valiantly. Their influence for good was widespread.

I would like to share an incident which took place during the Vietnam War. There were some who were convinced that the United States was engaged in a noble and justifiable war. However, public opinion was changing, and there was opposition which argued that the United States should pull out of Vietnam.
President Harold B. Lee was the President of the Church at the time. While at an area conference in another country, he was interviewed by reporters from the international news services. One reporter asked President Lee, “What is your church’s position on the Vietnam War?” Some recognized the question as a trap—one which could not be answered without a very real risk of being misunderstood or misinterpreted. If the prophet answered, “We are against the war,” the international media could state, “How strange—a religious leader who is against the position of the country he is obliged to sustain in his own church’s Articles of Faith.”
On the other hand, if President Lee answered, “We are in favor of the war,” the media could say, “How strange—a religious leader in favor of war.” Either way, the answer could result in serious misunderstandings both inside and outside the Church.
President Lee, with great inspiration and wisdom, answered as would a man who knows the Savior: “We, together with the whole Christian world, abhor war. But the Savior said, ‘In me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation’” (John 16:33). President Lee then explained, “The Savior was not talking about the peace that can be achieved between nations, by military force or by negotiation in the halls of parliaments. Rather, he was speaking of the peace we can each have in our own lives when we live the commandments and come unto Christ with broken hearts and contrite spirits” (see Ensign, November 1982, page 70).

It was at first with wonderment, then disbelief, and finally with tears that I read “The Ugly Orphans” by Cindie, Vikki, and Adrian Moyer in the December 1982 New Era. We were ecstatic to find that our family was the answer to another family’s prayers. Our daughter, Gena, was the “little girl with the soft brown eyes” who took “Luke” from the Moyer family at sacrament meeting so many years ago in Medford, Oregon. Luke was renamed Heidi (as she was not male as they thought, nor were the other three), and she has been a joy to our family for all these years. The miracle of the puppies that someone tried to destroy continued for several weeks. We also knew and shared these miracles with the other two families who received puppies that evening. Heidi is a beautiful dog and looks just like a miniature Lassie, quite unlike the way she looked when we got her. It taught our family that one never knows when he might be the answer to someone else’s prayer.
The Lind FamilyAlbany, Oregon

I well remember a young couple who started farming in Idaho years ago. They had modest means, but they paid a down payment on 40 acres of raw land. They were going into the raising of fruit—peaches particularly. They had leveled the land, brought out the laterals, planted the trees, and then weeded and irrigated and watched until the time had come when they’d have a harvest. This particular spring the orchard was a sea of blossoms, and it looked as though they were going to have a bounteous harvest. Then one night without warning, there came a frost that wiped out practically the entire crop overnight. Well, young John didn’t go to church the next Sunday, nor the next Sunday, nor the next Sunday. Finally his good old bishop came out to see what was wrong. He found John out in the field, and he said, “John, we haven’t seen you in church for several weeks. What’s the matter? Is anything wrong?” John said, “No, bishop, I’m not coming anymore. Do you think I can worship a God who would let this happen to me?” And then he explained to the bishop what had happened. Of course, the bishop felt sorrowful, too, and he expressed it to John. And as he looked down at the ground for a moment, he said, “John, I’m sure the Lord knows that you can’t produce the best peaches with frost. But I’m also sure he knows that you can’t produce the best men without frost, and the Lord is interested in producing men, not peaches.” Well, John went to church the next Sunday, and another year a harvest came. He later became a bishop in the Church.

Not long ago, Sister Gong and I became acquainted with a father and family blessed by a faithful priesthood brother who came to their bishop and asked if he (the priesthood brother) could be a home teaching companion with the father. The father was not active and not interested in home teaching. But as the father’s heart changed, he and this loving priesthood brother began visiting “their” families. After one such visit, his wife—herself not then attending church—asked her husband how things had gone. The father admitted, “I may have felt something”—then he went to the kitchen to get a beer.
But one thing followed another: tender experiences, ministering service, changing hearts, temple preparation class, coming to church, being sealed as a family in the holy temple. Imagine how grateful the children and grandchildren are to their father and mother and to the ministering brother who came as a friend and companion with their father to minister to and love others.

“Hold your family home evenings … ,” says President Gordon B. Hinckley. “I can remember when it was begun. I was a little boy five years old, and my father said, ‘President [Joseph F.] Smith has asked us to hold family home evenings.’ And we did it. It was not easy to do at first. We were more prone to laugh and giggle than we were to be well behaved. But we did it. I see the fruits of it in my own family and in the families of my grandchildren and in the families of my great-grandchildren. The principle of family solidarity carries with it a conviction of its truth” (“Words of the Living Prophet,” Liahona, April 1999, 18).

“Not long ago, my dad was caught in the beaters of a forage harvester bin. I know that Heavenly Father gave him the strength to break the drive chain to prevent further damage. As it was, his skull was broken in ten places and his neck was cut open to the windpipe. He said prayers and was given a blessing before he was raced from Kingaroy, where the accident happened, to Brisbane, the capital city of Queensland.
“From this I learned that someone could be lost at any time, so we should all endeavor to lead a worthy and clean life. This has brought me closer to my dad and taught me that if we have faith, the Lord will look after us. I love my mom and dad, and I know the Church is true and that Jesus lives.”
John Taylor, 14Kingaroy, Queensland, Australia

As a new convert to the Church, I always like to help the missionaries in my ward. I’ve often seen that even when investigators aren’t comfortable with hearing the discussions, they are happy to participate in family home evening.

One time I invited the full-time missionaries and an entire nonmember family to my family home evening. Before they arrived, I fasted and prayed that the Spirit would be present and would open their hearts to the gospel. We watched a missionary video about helping families progress and developing trust. Afterward we shared our feelings about the video. The Spirit was so strong.

Now this wonderful family is willing to learn more about the gospel by meeting with the missionaries. We have all been invited to help with missionary work, and I have seen that family home evenings are an effective way to share with others the joy of having the gospel in my life.

Maria de los Angeles Vilca Zeballos, Peru

During the early days of the Great Depression, six stake presidents from the Salt Lake Valley joined together to grapple with the darkening clouds of poverty and hunger that threatened to overwhelm so many members of the Church.1 Although the economic crisis affected people everywhere, Utah in particular had been devastated.2
At that time, Church leaders had few resources to help those in need. They could use fast offerings, of course, but the chronic need dwarfed anything they had ever experienced. Under the direction of the Presiding Bishopric, a Deseret Employment Bureau had been founded in the early 1900s. But it was not adequately equipped to handle such massive need.
These six priesthood leaders knew that if the people of their stakes were to be helped, they could not wait. They would have to take immediate action. They began by putting people to work. They organized the men and took them to fields where they could harvest crops. In exchange for their labor, grateful farmers generously donated food to the men. The surplus was taken to a storehouse and distributed to others who were hungry. As donations grew, the Saints began canning food to preserve it. This was the beginning of the modern-day welfare program.

“Papá, Alan’s hurt!” Nicole cried as she and her friend Nathalia quickly rode into our camp on their four-wheeled all-terrain vehicle.
We were camping in central Utah with two other families. While my son Alan and his friend Kurt were out riding, they hit a ditch and flipped their four-wheeler. It had landed on top of Alan, but somehow Kurt lifted it off of him.
When I arrived at the scene a few minutes later with two friends, Alan was lying in the ditch, surrounded by several men. He was having trouble breathing, and Kurt looked sick with worry. When Alan tried to get up, a man with a medical bag told him to stay down as he administered first aid and checked his vital signs.
“You’re the father, correct?” he asked as he looked up at me.
“Yes.”
“Stay with Alan a minute.”
To my friends Hector and Carlos, he said, “I need to speak with you.”
They went off by themselves, which raised a red flag in my mind. The man’s name was Mike Staheli. Mike, a medical nurse, was camping with some friends. They had planned to return home that morning but felt prompted to stay one more day. His son had seen the accident and immediately called his father for help.
I learned later that Mike had told Hector and Carlos that Alan was in serious condition. Mike feared that Alan might die in the ditch if he didn’t receive medical help soon. Alan’s left leg had swollen to twice its normal size, and Mike feared that Alan had suffered a hip or femoral fracture. Mike was convinced that Alan had broken his now Z-shaped left arm and perhaps some ribs. Mike also feared that Alan had injured some internal organs.
To get Alan to the hospital quickly, Mike said we should call for a medical helicopter, which we did.
“Luis,” Hector said for the second time, “we need to give Alan a blessing.”
I hadn’t really heard Hector the first time because I was too focused on Alan. Hector was right.
“We’re going to give you a blessing,” I said to Alan, who had recently been ordained a deacon. “You understand what that means?”
“Yes,” he replied.
“But you have to do something,” I said. “You have to have faith in Jesus Christ and the power of the priesthood. Do you have faith that the Lord can help you and heal you?”
“Yes, Papá,” he told me, “I do have faith.”
I anointed Alan, and then Hector, Carlos, and I gave him a blessing, with Hector sealing the anointing. Hector’s words were simple, but we all felt the powerful presence of the Holy Ghost.
Alan’s breathing slowed, and his vital signs stabilized almost immediately. The wind stopped, a calmness settled over us, and some of the men began to weep. It was a cold fall day, but afterward, Alan said he felt warmer as Hector pronounced the blessing.
Soon the helicopter arrived, and I joined Alan on the flight to the hospital. When we landed, he was rushed inside, where he underwent several examinations and tests, including an MRI. As I waited, I expected the worst. But the worst never came. Doctors found no internal injuries and no broken femur, hip, arm, or ribs—nothing.
“Alan,” one of the doctors told him, “it looks like you can go home tonight.”
Alan had difficulty walking, so he stayed overnight in the hospital for observation. When we brought him home the next morning, he wore only a brace on his left wrist. Six weeks later, he was preparing for soccer season.
A week after the accident, we went to Mike’s house to thank him for his help. He could hardly believe his eyes when Alan walked in and sat on his couch.
“I’ve taken care of a lot of people, and I’ve seen a lot of people pass away,” he told us. “Medically, Alan should not have made it. What I saw that day was truly miraculous. It was divine intervention.”

Jenni Holt is from Ottawa, Canada’s beautiful capital city built on the wooded banks of the Ottawa River. She and friends from the Ottawa Ontario Stake talked with Church magazines about how prayer affects their lives.

One of the most interesting things the Ottawa teens discussed was how their prayers were answered. First, Susan Brook said, “If you want an answer, you have to listen for it.”
Susan said her answers sometimes come by reading the scriptures. She had a good example: “One day, I was just really tired, and I was being mean to everyone. I didn’t want to talk. I remember reading in the scriptures, I don’t even remember where, and it said, ‘Be humble.’ It hit me. That’s my answer.” (See D&C 112:10.)

Edna Amburo also had difficulty reading the Book of Mormon at first—not just because she found it hard to understand, but because friends told her she was “going to the fire” for reading it. “All my friends told me to burn the book,” she says, “but I decided not to burn it because I felt the Book of Mormon was the word of God.”

Edna was baptized in 1990. Shortly thereafter, she was called to teach the Book of Mormon to seminary students.

“I said, ‘How am I going to teach? I am not an educated woman. I am not a good speaker in English, and I am not a good writer. I left school in grade five.’”

Branch members and the full-time missionaries encouraged Sister Amburo to ask the Lord for help. She took the suggestion seriously and spent a tearful two weeks fasting and praying that the Lord would help her to become an effective teacher.

“I found Moroni 10:4–5 [Moro. 10:4–5] and exercised it,” she says. “I saw it was true. I got peace in my heart. I got joy. And I was happy that I was going to teach seminary. I really love the Book of Mormon. I understand it now.”

Sister Amburo attributes her spiritual and intellectual growth to help from her Heavenly Father. In addition to teaching seminary, she teaches Sunday School and serves as a counselor in the Popondetta Branch Relief Society presidency.

“Step by step I came along. The Church has helped me a lot. It is a learning church.”

I learned early in life that some things are just out of your control. Take my feet, for example. By the time I was 14 years old, they had become a whopping size 12—that’s in inches. Each foot was literally a foot long! For some reason, probably because I was insecure, I was terribly embarrassed about them.
Try as I might, there wasn’t a single thing I could do to change the matter. There were plenty of diet and exercise programs to help people lose inches off their waists but none designed to take inches off their feet. So I was stuck with large feet. I felt my only option was to wait, watch, and hope they didn’t keep growing.
What’s so bad about big feet? Well, for boys, I think they’re normal and pretty much expected. For girls, it’s a little different. Most girls I know borrow shoes from their mom or their sisters. All I could do was borrow my dad’s, and they never did match any of my outfits.
Also, the world wasn’t designed for big-footed women. I felt awkward when I went bowling or skating with my friends because I had to get men’s shoes or skates. I didn’t want my friends to notice, so I would usually wait until they were putting their shoes or skates on before I got my own.
I sometimes wondered why I was destined to have such large feet. Then one day when I was having shoes “specially” ordered for my high school musical, a costume designer told me that my foot wasn’t really all that long; I just had really long, slender toes. I played the piano with my long, slender fingers. Maybe having long, slender toes wasn’t such a bad thing.
That comment was my big turnaround. I decided to take the designer’s observation as a compliment. I stopped seeing my feet as a huge, gargantuan, never-fitting-into-anything embarrassment. I began to see my feet in a whole new light—as something unique to me.
My grandma told me I inherited my feet from my tall ancestors. That made sense to me because I was pretty tall. Maybe my feet had to be longer to give me balance. The size of my feet was imbedded in my own personal genetic code, along with other traits like my skin, hair, and eye color.
As I began to move past embarrassment, I learned to love my feet. I figured I might as well because they would be mine for the rest of my life. They were my wonderful feet. Once I took ownership of that fact, things started to change. I no longer whispered my size when asking for rental shoes but boldly stated, “I need a size 10 in men’s, please”—even when I was on a date! If I received a questioning glance, I would simply add, “Oh, I have big feet.”
I can hardly call this a huge trial, for it pales in comparison to many other struggles in life. But I have learned a bit of a lesson from my feet. Everything in life is not in my control. Oh, I can plan and work hard to reach worthy goals and achieve personal dreams, but some things are pretty much out of my control. But there are two things I have complete and total control over in my life: my attitude and my behavior.
Now I try not to focus on all the things I can’t control. When something happens I can’t control, I instead focus on how I’m going to think and act. I’m not alone, either, because the Savior is always there. He knows me; He loves me; and He wants to help me!
So, when life takes a different road, remember you have control over what you’re going to do about it, even if it’s a little thing—or big thing—like feet.

“Are they here yet?” Tanner called. He had run all the way home from the park.
“Not yet,” Mom said. “But they’ll be here soon.”
Tanner’s grandma and grandpa were coming to visit. He couldn’t wait to see them! Papa always made Tanner laugh. Nana always made him a yummy treat.
Tanner ran to his room. He found his new green racecar.
“I’m going to show this to Nana and Papa,” he told Mom.
“That’s a great idea,” she said.
Vroom! Tanner raced his car back to his room.
Mom came in. “Nana hasn’t been sleeping very well lately,” she told Tanner. “Can you help by being super quiet for her at night?”
“Sure!” Tanner wanted to help. Sometimes he had a hard time sleeping too. A while ago Mom and Dad gave Tanner a special CD. It had nice, soft music on it. It helped Tanner fall asleep at night.
Knock, knock, knock! Tanner jumped up. Nana and Papa were here! He ran to the door and pulled it open. Papa hugged Tanner. Nana hugged him even tighter. They played racecars. Then they colored. Tanner had fun all day.
Soon it was bedtime. Papa read a story. Nana sang a song. Then Tanner went to his room to say a prayer. He told Heavenly Father about Nana. Tanner asked Him to help her sleep better. After his prayer, he looked up and saw his CD player.
Tanner knew what to do. He got his special CD and went to find Nana.
He held out the CD.
“Here, Nana. This music helps me sleep sometimes. Maybe it will help you too.”
“Thank you!” Nana said. She smiled big. “I know this will help.”
Nana gave Tanner a hug. He went back to his room. He was happy he had shared.

I have a sister, Olivia Eson, in my ward (Ekpoma First Ward) who I wish to write about. Sister Olivia hardly has the chance to come to chapel cleaning every Saturday morning because of her tight class schedule at school, but unfailing, she always serves her time every Sunday immediately after closing from sacrament meeting by cleaning the chapel, which becomes dirty after Sunday services.
She goes to get soap, water and other cleaning materials and goes to work to keep the toilets clean.
Sister Olivia says: “I find joy in serving my Heavenly Father by keeping the Lord’s house clean since I can’t come every Saturday, but on a Sunday morning after sacrament meetings, this is one way I choose to do my part”.

I remember the night my father got the call. We were all sitting around the table of our North Carolina home playing UNO, and my father came downstairs with the news. He was going to be a mission president.
When we later found out we would be moving to Tegucigalpa, Honduras, we eagerly pulled out maps and the encyclopedia. In some ways, I was terrified to move to a foreign country right before my junior year of high school. Speaking Spanish was not a problem (I was born in Peru, and my family had lived in El Salvador for seven years). But we had lived in North Carolina for only two years. I finally felt like I belonged, and then this call came. I would have to start all over again. It was thrilling but intimidating at the same time.
Mission life in Honduras was great. I attended spiritual zone meetings, helped the fantastic sister missionaries teach the gospel, and served Christmas dinner to eager young elders. However, school was not going so well. I was doing fine academically and was even on the volleyball team, but I was one of only three North Americans in my grade—not to mention the only member of the Church in my whole school.
Making friends was hard. In a school with no orchestra, no choir, and no art program, I found few outlets for my interests. On top of that, with my LDS values, I did not belong in the dance clubs, where my classmates spent their weekends drinking alcohol. I made friends, but I spent my lunch periods in the library and my weekends at home. And as wonderful as missionaries are, they are not meant to be the best friends of the mission president’s daughter. I was lonely.
In the past, I wasn’t outspoken about being LDS, but people figured it out. If they asked, I would tell them. In Honduras, however, the fact that I was LDS was one of the first things people learned about me. I’d meet a new person and the conversation would go something like this:
“So, what does your dad do?”
“Well,” I’d explain, “he’s in charge of about 200 missionaries for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in this area.”
“Oh, cool,” they would reply, not really knowing what to say.
So everyone knew, and I didn’t mind. Then one day my teacher told me that someone had made a comment about Mormons while I was out of the classroom. Apparently, it wasn’t a very nice comment. I’m still not sure why she told me this.
My instinct told me to sulk about it or be offended, but something else in me spoke louder that day. Much to my surprise, I smiled and told her I would be happy to explain about the Church to the class. I knew they had never been taught anything about the Church by its members and that their comments were based on ignorance, not cruelty. My teacher was thrilled at my proposition and arranged an entire class period for me to talk about the Church.
I probably should have been nervous, but with the Spirit’s help, I eagerly arrived that day with temple pictures in hand. The Spirit whispered that this was my chance to stand as a witness of God, just as I had promised I would every Sunday since I was baptized.
We arranged the desks in a big circle, and I began. Even the school principal came to listen. I decided to start by having my classmates brainstorm what they knew about our Church. The list on the blackboard included items like John Smith, don’t drink soda pop, all live in Utah, and don’t date until 16. For the first time, I realized I was their only model of what a Latter-day Saint was. For instance, since I personally chose not to drink soda pop, they assumed that my decision had something to do with being LDS. I was their sole contact with the Church, so that left me with the responsibility of providing a good example for them.
As the discussion continued, we addressed polygamy, the gold plates, the First Vision, and other questions. I loved every minute of it. The Spirit gave me the words to speak, and I knew my classmates were being touched. They might not have been converted on the spot, but at least they were more educated about the Church—a seed was planted. I was filled with a spirit of conviction and testimony. No one was offended by what I had to say. In fact, I believe they respected me more after that for my beliefs and standards. It was “cool” that I was LDS.
Even as the mission president’s daughter, I had the chance to be a missionary. After this experience, I could no longer be passive about my values and beliefs; I needed to be an example of the truthfulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ to everyone I met. I stood as a witness.

Annet Nankumba of Upperhill Ward in Nairobi, Kenya, first learned about BYU–Pathway from her Mission President in Cote d’Ivoire. Due to her low grades in high school, Annet was very nervous about pursuing a university education. A few months after returning from her mission, she decided to enroll in PathwayConnect and began her journey towards a bachelor’s degree. This will make her the first university graduate in her family. “PathwayConnect has been a great blessing for me. One of my first courses taught me about having a growth mindset. Unlike before, I now look at failure as an opportunity to grow,” she said.
Annet further explained, “Someone with a fixed mindset fears failure, gives up so quickly when things get tough, and sees themselves as not smart. To stay focused on my education path, I have to be positive and trust in my Heavenly Father who will help me navigate the challenges”. Annet says she has also learned better financial management, which is helping her in her small business. “I have learned to prioritize payment of tithing, and I now feel my Saviour’s guidance more in my life. I am inspired by the weekly devotionals and institute of religion classes; all this is helping to increase my faith in the Saviour. I know that I can accomplish hard things!”