Gospel Story Finder

This difficulty of understanding about water recalls the story of a sailing ship that had become disabled in a storm. It drifted aimlessly for many days. The crew and passengers became famished and parched from lack of food and water. Finally another ship came into view. They signaled frantically for water. The other ship replied, “Let down your buckets where you are.” This communication made no sense at all, for they supposed they were far out to sea in typical ocean water. Again the famished ones requested water. Again the signal came, “Let down your buckets where you are.” They could not know that they had drifted into the mouth of a great river and that the water beneath them was fresh and could save their lives. The water of life lay just beneath them, yet they were dying for lack of this knowledge.

There are other ways the Lord uses miracles to answer our prayers. Sometimes, for instance, he seems to manipulate our temporal world to our benefit, as one sister related in testimony meeting:
“We knew when we were preparing to send Roger on his mission that we would have to change our lifestyle to afford it. But when we sat down and figured out exactly what our new budget would be—to the penny—we discovered that we wouldn’t have enough even for must items. We worried and prayed about it; we were going to trust the Lord and send Roger anyway, but we didn’t know how we were going to do it.
“Then, the day before Roger left, my husband’s boss called him into his office and said they were giving him a raise effective immediately. He then wrote the amount of the raise on a slip of paper and handed it to my husband. It was the exact amount—to the penny—that it was going to cost to support Roger on his mission.”

We sang in the Primary children’s choir in general conference!
Wyatt (age 10): I felt happy but was scared about messing up on camera. It was so cool to be right by the Apostles and members of the Seventy. It was a really great opportunity.
Bridger (age 11): It was a day I’ll never forget. For the first time in 100 years, three new Apostles were sustained. Also, for the first time ever they had an all-children’s choir in conference, and my brother and I were in it. The things I felt were inconceivable, which means there were no words for it.
When we sang, I felt the Spirit stronger than ever before. It was calm and our singing came out so well. It was almost like it couldn’t possibly be us, it was so beautiful.
Before conference I was afraid that I’d be scared. Yet we got there and had faith, and we were given courage. We were in front of 20,000-plus people, and I wasn’t afraid. It goes to show that you could even march to battle, unafraid and determined, like the armies of Helaman. When you go anywhere, go with undying faith and keep your promises with God.

That Sunday was not just any Sunday. It was the day of the annual children’s sacrament meeting presentation. As a member of the bishopric I felt responsible to make sure everything went well. Leaders, teachers, and Primary children had been preparing for months. The children knew the songs and hymns and their parts, and they were excited to share them.
On Saturday, the day of our rehearsal, it rained all afternoon. Even though we gave rides to many of the children who live far from the meetinghouse, not all were able to attend. We went ahead with the rehearsal, hoping the rain would stop by the next day and more children would make it to Sunday’s presentation.
The storm continued Sunday morning. In fact, it was even windier than the day before. Suddenly I felt downhearted. The bad weather would hurt the attendance in our small ward. “Why doesn’t the Lord stop the rain?” I wondered.
Even though we picked up all the children we could in our cars, we still managed to get only about 60 percent of them. It was hard for me to be satisfied. The Primary president was worried too. We had wanted everything to go as planned, and we hadn’t planned for the unexpected.
But as the program began, with teachers taking the parts of the missing children, the Lord’s Spirit permeated the meeting. The 40 ward members who attended were especially touched by the testimonies of our little ones.
After the presentation a humble, thoughtful brother gave the closing prayer. During the prayer he said, “And Lord, we thank Thee for the rain, for we know it is much needed in many places.”
I kept pondering that phrase: “It is much needed in many places.” Then I realized the Lord knows precisely what He is doing. Our presentation had not gone exactly as we had planned, but it had succeeded in inspiring those present. And the rain that we had seen as such a trial was actually a great blessing to those in the many areas that needed it.

Approximately 50 Mormon Helping Hands volunteers—including members of the Church, their friends, and Latter-day Saint missionaries—mobilized on Saturday, January 21, 2012, to help clean, weed, and otherwise revitalize Maria Ivone de Menezes, a state school in Macapá, Brazil.
The activity, coordinated by the school board and organized by the Macapá Brazil Amapá District’s public affairs director, Kleber Sainz, drew attention and coverage from several local media outlets. The school’s director, Adelia Danin, assisted in the project. “We were delighted with the generous contribution [the Church] gave us,” she said. “We will always keep the memory of it with us.”

When I was three years old, my family’s life changed forever. My mom gave birth to my brother, Ben, who was born with Down syndrome. I don’t remember his birth, but I do remember him getting a lot of extra attention and care.
Growing up with a physically and mentally handicapped brother was difficult for me. I remember one day when Ben was in second grade. I got home from school, and my mom told me that some boys at school had tricked him into drinking toilet water and then laughed at him for doing it. I was so angry and upset. I didn’t understand why we had been given this burden.
Not long ago, I was at an activity with my family. There were people attending whom Ben knew from school. Every time he saw someone he knew, he would give them a great big hug. I saw how much Ben loved everyone, no matter what. That day, I realized that Ben was no trial in my life but a blessing. He had made me a better person in so many ways. I am so grateful to Heavenly Father for letting Ben be such a major part of my life.

When missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints started teaching his family, Isaac Kojo Botwe made it clear from the beginning that he was not interested.
“I would abandon them in the sitting room, go into the boys’ room, and smoke my dirty pipe,” he says, laughing as he recalls what followed. Soon he decided that he really ought to listen to what the missionaries were saying. Not long afterward, he decided that he needed to give up that “dirty pipe” and live the Word of Wisdom.
Elder Mark Owusu, one of the missionaries who taught him, remembers that Isaac Botwe had his children gather his pipes, his tobacco, and his coffee—and then he set fire to the lot of it!
Isaac, his wife, Frances, and their children of baptismal age came into the Church together in 1987. Today, Isaac is bishop of the Takoradi Ward, Cape Coast Ghana Stake. His family has an extensive history of service to the Church. So, too, does Mark Owusu, who has served in a variety of teaching and leadership positions since his mission.

“I’m sorry, but no one is allowed in the garden area.” The tall Franciscan monk spoke with a firm voice in answer to my request to photograph inside the Garden of Gethsemane. Determined to return another day and try again, I walked down the gradual slope of the Mount of Olives and crossed the top end of Kidron Valley on the way to the old city of Jerusalem.
A paved highway runs down this upper end of the valley; it rises and winds around the base of the Mount of Olives on its way to Jericho. Gethsemane sits to one side of the road, next to the hustle of buses and taxis and donkeys braying with heavy loads of goods on the way to markets of the Old City.
Mount of Olives hillside
Gethsemane is just a simple grove of trees in a garden on the side of a rocky hill. It is a quiet place, except for the occasional tourist groups and hawking peddlers, and the nearby traffic.
Yet, in this grove of ancient trees one of the most important events in the history of mankind took place. In this little garden the Savior agonized as he suffered for the sins of all the world. He made it possible for us to return to the presence of God. That means that if we repent and live in sweet obedience to the Father’s will, we will not be required to pay the awful debt for the sins we have committed; Jesus did that in Gethsemane.
An olive tree in the Garden of Gethsemane
Leaving Gethsemane, you can easily see old Jerusalem above terraced hillsides. Next to the wall of the city, Arab shepherd boys often bring their sheep and goats to graze in the grass around the Moslem gravestones. Seeing the sheep silhouetted against the sky, it is easy to imagine what it was like here during the Savior’s lifetime.
Jerusalem seen from the Mount of Olives
Further up the hill, the road branches to one side, going up to Saint Stephen’s Gate and the base of the ancient temple mount. Here you can look back at Gethsemane from above. On this particular afternoon, the garden lay half in shadow with the sun glistening in several light-filled corners. A few Arab buses careened noisily around the serpentine curves of the highway below, but the air seemed somehow quiet. There in the stillness of my thoughts, I wondered about the little procession of disciples meandering across the valley toward Gethsemane, the Savior leading them in calm dignity as he approached the terrors of that incredible night.
Darkness falls swiftly in Jerusalem, and soon the blackness of the night was all around me. There was a slight chill in the evening air as I hurried home.
St. Stephen’s Gate in the wall of Jerusalem
Several days later I arrived after closing time, and the great iron doors to the garden were shut and locked. After much persistent bell ringing, a monk came to the gate and kindly allowed me to enter the empty courtyard. We talked for a minute, and then he surprised me with, “Would you like to go into the garden area?” Taking a handforged key from his belt, he opened the small iron gate that led into the garden.
I wandered along the flower-lined gravel paths, next to the great patriarch olive trees. The color of the red flowers reminded me of the blood that came from every pore of the Savior’s body as he suffered here. The old gnarled and pitted trunks of the olive trees spoke of the struggle and pain of spirit that Jesus felt in this garden. Pondering these things, I didn’t notice the darkness gathering around the garden.
A path in the Garden of Gethsemane
Reverently and privately knelt for a moment, there in Gethsemane, to thank God for the blessing of his Son. The trees were dark and gray as I left them. But looking up toward the city I could see one of its radiant sunsets. Jerusalem, the “City of Gold,” the hope of ages past, present, and future because of the atonement that took place here.

At the suggestion of another Bible translator, I tried an experiment. I attempted to read the scriptures for a week in my second language instead of my native language of English. I didn’t do it even for a week. The Bible became so uninteresting that once I set it down, I couldn’t pick it up again. The reading was difficult, and subtle distinctions in wording did not make sense. I learned that my appreciation of the scriptures was tied to being able to read them freely and thus think about them freely.

When I was about to turn eight, my parents asked if I wanted my brother Enzo to baptize me. At first I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to. But then I decided to ask him to baptize me.
My brother practiced with me before my baptism. He told me what he would say and when I should plug my nose to get ready to go under the water. My dad helped Enzo memorize the baptism prayer.
My entire family got to play a part in my baptism. My sisters Chloé and Margo were witnesses. Margo and my mom gave the talks. Chloé performed a musical number on the violin. Enzo baptized me, and my dad confirmed me a member of the Church and gave me the gift of the Holy Ghost.
As I was getting ready to go in the water, I felt excited. I was tingling all over. When I went in, I felt so warm that I didn’t want to get out.
The next day I was able to take the sacrament as a new member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My brother was also blessing the sacrament for the first time!
I felt very different after my baptism. I had felt the influence of the Holy Ghost before I was baptized, but I feel it better now. I am trying to follow Jesus Christ. I feel that the Holy Ghost helps me make better choices and comforts me. I feel more secure, and I know Heavenly Father is watching over me.

Let me just share with you a message that is very meaningful. It has to do with a brother who fell in love with a beautiful young lady, took her to the temple, was sealed to her for time and all eternity. And then he became careless, fell into serious transgression, and was excommunicated from the Church. A divorce followed. Later on, his former spouse applied for a cancellation of her temple sealing to him so that she could be sealed to another, and he was contacted to see if he consented to or objected to the cancellation. In reply, he wrote a longhand letter, of several pages, that began by saying:

“Yes, I do consent. Why? Because I want to see my former wife obtain the happiness that she’s entitled to.” For quite a few paragraphs he lauded the virtues of his former spouse. He then said, “Why did I do what I did to her and to our son? Only because I became careless, and listened to the voice of the tempter, and he took over.” He then said, “I do not feel I can ever be forgiven of what I have done to my wife and son.” He ended with the statement, “A brokenhearted man” and signed his name to it.

Three years ago my family and I were sealed in the Orlando Florida Temple. The temple was as white as snow on the outside and I could feel God’s Spirit on the inside. When I was brought into the sealing room, I felt the Spirit so strong that I was trembling! It was good to have my brother there too. I felt so reverent. Now my testimony of the temple is very strong. I know that it is the house of the Lord.Keegan G., age 8, Florida

However, I warn you, a new name, new flexibility, and fewer reports won’t make an ounce of difference in our service unless we see this as an invitation to care for one another in a bold, new, holier way, as President Nelson has just said. As we lift our spiritual eyes toward living the law of love more universally, we pay tribute to the generations who have served that way for years. Let me note a recent example of such devotion in hopes that legions more will grasp the Lord’s commandment to “be with and strengthen” our brothers and sisters.
Last January 14, a Sunday, just a little after 5:00 p.m., my young friends Brett and Kristin Hamblin were chatting at their home in Tempe, Arizona, after Brett’s day serving in the bishopric and Kristin’s busy day caring for their five children.
Suddenly Kristin, a seemingly successful survivor of breast cancer the previous year, fell unresponsive. A call to 911 brought an emergency team trying desperately to revive her. As Brett prayed and pleaded, he quickly placed just two other telephone calls: one to his mother requesting her help with the children, the other to Edwin Potter, his home teacher. The latter conversation in its entirety went as follows:
Edwin, noting caller ID, said, “Hey, Brett, what’s up?”
Brett’s near-shouted response was “I need you here—now!”
In fewer minutes than Brett could count, his priesthood colleague was standing at his side, helping with the children and then driving Brother Hamblin to the hospital behind the ambulance carrying his wife. There, less than 40 minutes after she had first closed her eyes, the physicians pronounced Kristin dead.
As Brett sobbed, Edwin simply held him in his arms and cried with him—for a long, long time. Then, leaving Brett to grieve with other family members who had gathered, Edwin drove to the bishop’s home to tell him what had just transpired. A marvelous bishop started immediately for the hospital while Edwin drove on to the Hamblins’ home. There he and his wife, Charlotte, who had also come running, played with the five now-motherless Hamblin children, ages 12 down to 3. They fed them an evening meal, held an impromptu musical recital, and helped get them ready for bed.
Brett told me later, “The amazing part of this story isn’t that Edwin came when I called. In an emergency, there are always people willing to help. No, the amazing part of this story is that he was the one I thought of. There were other people around. Kristin has a brother and sister less than three miles away. We have a great bishop, the greatest. But the relationship between Edwin and me is such that I felt instinctively to call him when I needed help. The Church provides us a structured way to live the second commandment better—to love, serve, and develop relationships with our brothers and sisters that help us move closer to God.”
Edwin said about the experience, “Elder Holland, the irony in all of this is that Brett has been our family’s home teacher for longer than I have been theirs. Over that time, he has visited us more as a friend than by assignment. He has been a great example, the epitome of what an active and involved priesthood bearer should be. My wife, our boys—we don’t see him as one obligated to bring us a message at the end of each month; we think of him as a friend who lives just down the street and around the corner, who would do anything in this world to bless us. I am glad I could repay just a little bit of the debt I owe him.”

Early in our marriage my wife and I attended school in the northeastern United States, where winters are harsh and road salt is plentiful. After several winters, the body of our old car began to corrode, culminating with a passenger stepping through the floor of the car. With optimism I purchased some sheets of aluminum and pop rivets, and we called my parents to see if we could visit that weekend and work on the car.
We arrived late Friday night, and my father and I got up early on Saturday to work on the car floor. We pulled back the rubber mats and started looking for sound metal to which we could fasten the metal sheets. Our search revealed nothing but corroded metal. We looked at each other silently, replaced the mats, and went to breakfast.
After we made the slow and careful five-hour drive back to our apartment, the phone was ringing when we walked in. Mom had decided that she “needed” a new car and wondered if we would like her old one. My dad cautioned that the car was three years old and had many miles on it. My mom then joked that it couldn’t be too bad—it had been driven by a full-tithe payer. We laughed, and after we hung up the phone, we danced around the apartment in honor of this bit of manna from heaven.

Illustration by Eva Vasquez
On Christmas Eve 2016, while my husband and I were serving as temple missionaries for the Manila Philippines Temple, I wanted to give a copy of the Book of Mormon to someone. Inside the front cover of a copy, I wrote my testimony and included a postcard of the Manila Temple with information on where to learn more about the Church. Then I knelt in prayer and asked the Lord to guide me to someone He had prepared.
I left our apartment and crossed the street. A security guard for the nearby missionary training center was visiting with two men. He called out, “Merry Christmas!” I felt impressed to walk over to them.
After I introduced myself, I learned that one man was a groundskeeper for the missionary training center and the other was a farmer. I learned that they were both members of the Church.
I asked if they knew someone who might be interested in receiving as a Christmas gift a copy of the Book of Mormon. The farmer looked surprised. He said he had a friend coming to visit the temple grounds with him in a few minutes. He had wanted to give his friend a Book of Mormon but had not been able to obtain one. Filled with emotion, I pulled the Book of Mormon from my bag. I told them about my prayer and gave him the book.
The Spirit touched us all, and the farmer expressed hope that his friend would read the Book of Mormon and accept the gospel. As I walked back to my apartment, I thanked the Lord and prayed that the farmer’s friend would keep his commitment to visit the temple grounds.
About 15 minutes later, I received a call from the MTC security gate. The farmer’s friend had arrived. I immediately went to meet him. He was the captain of a merchant ship that was heading back to sea in two days. He thanked me for the Book of Mormon and said he would take it on the ship with him. Before we said goodbye, I looked directly into his eyes and said, “This book is true.” As I did so, the Spirit confirmed this truth to me.
That Christmas I gave a special gift: a Book of Mormon and my testimony that it is true. I also received a special gift: the Lord answered my prayer and blessed me with an opportunity to share the gospel.

In addition to missionary work, helping less-active Latter-day Saints to reestablish their testimonies and return to full activity is an ongoing challenge. In the Ponce First Branch, leaders took an aggressive approach. They drew upon all interested members to help them in a kind of “activation battalion.” “Everyone gathered at the chapel on a designated evening,” says Miguel Alvarado Sr., president of the Ponce First Branch. “Leaders passed out cards with the names and addresses of less-active members to pairs of branch members. Everyone had only a few people to visit. At the end of two hours, members met back at the chapel to report on their visits. This proved to be an efficient means of locating less-active members and reestablishing contact. Follow-up on this initial activity has helped revitalize our branch.”

When I was 17, I went to live with my aunt and uncle, who were sponsoring my education. When I arrived at their home in Sekondi, Ghana, I immediately noticed unusual things about their family. They had morning and evening prayers together and held family meetings on Monday evenings that seemed to make each family member feel loved and appreciated. Even though I was an active member of another faith, I became interested in finding out about their beliefs.
When I asked Uncle Sarfo about the Church, he explained many of the Church’s teachings. Some I believed, and others I did not understand.
My uncle then asked the missionaries to teach me the discussions, and I received all six of the lessons. But when the missionaries invited me to be baptized, I refused because I did not have a testimony of the Book of Mormon. I found it difficult to read and understand.
To please Aunt Evelyn and Uncle Sarfo, I had already been attending sacrament meeting. Now they encouraged me to enroll in the early-morning seminary course that was to begin in two weeks.
Getting out of bed at 4:30 A.M. was no small matter for me, but the seminary teacher, Solomon Agbo, visited me, encouraged me to attend, and seemed already to care about me. I decided to go to seminary, and once I made that decision, I resolved not to be absent even for a single day. The course of study was the Book of Mormon, and I wanted to see if I might gain a testimony of the book.
As I began studying the Book of Mormon for seminary, I experienced the feelings Elder Parley P. Pratt (1807–57) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles described when he first found the Book of Mormon. “I opened it with eagerness, and read its title page,” he wrote. “I then read the testimony of several witnesses in relation to the manner of its being found and translated. After this I commenced its contents by course. I read all day; eating was a burden, I had no desire for food; sleep was a burden when the night came, for I preferred reading to sleep” (Autobiography of Parley P. Pratt [1985], 18).
As I read, the Spirit of the Lord bore witness that the Book of Mormon is truly another testament of Jesus Christ. Through seminary the Book of Mormon became much easier to read. Whenever it was hard to follow, my teacher helped me understand. I received a testimony that the Book of Mormon is “the most correct of any book on earth, … and a man [will] get nearer to God by abiding by its precepts, than by any other book” (Joseph Smith, Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith, sel. Joseph Fielding Smith [1976], 194).
I was baptized on 5 March 1995. By the time I was 21 I was a seminary teacher myself, helping others know of the divinity and truthfulness of the book that changed my life.

July 1
Dear Sarah,
So much has happened that I don’t know where to start. The home teachers came and helped Dad give Lindsay a blessing. After that, she wasn’t so scared. But she looked so little standing there with her bag in one hand and that big stuffed penguin under her other arm. I guess Mom and Dad told you in their letter that the surgery went fine. They let me go see Lindsay the second day. She still looked pretty sick.
After Lindsay came home, Mom had to spend a lot of time caring for her, and I helped a lot around the house, I didn’t have much time for the garden. I didn’t go all week, and when I finally got over there on Saturday, Mr. Trujillo was really sad. About half of our tomato plants were gone. Gophers got them. They just burrow underneath and pull the plants down—one day you see them, and the next day you don’t. He said he didn’t know how to get rid of the gophers. He was afraid to put out poison because pets might get into it. And he didn’t want to flush the gophers out and bash them over the head the way some people do. He’s really a nice man.
I told him I’d pray about it, and he kind of smiled and patted my head. On Sunday I fasted and prayed for Lindsay to get all well and for a solution to the gopher problem.
Monday morning I thought of Billy Swenson who lives down by the river. Remember him? He’s the kid who has live traps and catches squirrels and stuff up in the canyon. I went to see him, and we made a deal. He said that he’d come and trap the gophers and turn them loose down by the river if I would give him some tomatoes, three pumpkins, and two watermelons when they’re ready.
Mr. Trujillo was pretty surprised and happy. He looked at me in that puzzled way he does sometimes.
It took Billy four days to get all the gophers, but they’re gone. Yesterday we set out more tomato plants.
Love,Angela the Problem Solver
July 15
Dear Sarah,
How great to hear that the Gonzales family was baptized!
Guess what we had for dinner—zucchini squash that I grew myself! Mrs. Trujillo gave me a recipe, and Mom cooked it. Even Lindsay ate some of it. Mr. Trujillo says we’ll have beans in two more weeks.
I thought raking and planting were bad, but this week we’ve been hoeing weeds, and I have blisters again (not as bad as before because my hands are tougher) and a backache. But Mrs. Trujillo made lemonade and cookies, and we sat under the peach tree and ate them. They told me some stories about Mexico, and they asked about you. I told them about the Gonzales family. So it was kind of nice, even though I had aches and pains.
Love,Angela the Contented Gardener
August 10
Dear Sarah,
Nothing has been worse so far than picking beans. Mr. Trujillo can’t bend over now, so I picked all the beans, my rows and his. Your back aches, and the leaves make your skin itch, and the sun is beating down on you. Mrs. Trujillo gave me an old straw hat to wear. We got three bushels! Mr. Trujillo smiled and said, “There’ll be this many again in about ten days.” I could have cried. But by then it was cooler, and Mrs. Trujillo brought out ice cream with fresh peaches sliced on it. Then you’ll never guess what happened—Mr, and Mrs. Trujillo took me into their garage and gave me one of their kids’ old bicycles. It was all clean and shiny, with new paint and new tires and the chain all oiled. I gave them both a hug.
I took a big, juicy peach home to Lindsay, and she ate it all!
Have you found any new people to teach?
Love,Angela the Cyclist
August 20
Dear Sarah,
Mr. Trujillo and I took the beans to the Farmer’s Market and sold them. I got $8.00! After tithing, that’s $7.20 I have ready to send you, but I’ll wait till I get some more.
Yesterday I picked beans again. It was easier this time.
Do you remember the Claybourne family? The ones with all those kids? Well, he lost his job, and they’re having a hard time. Mom said they’re trying to get by on their food storage, so she wondered if I would mind giving them the beans from this picking to freeze for the winter. Mom said she’d like to freeze some, too, and that would help us have more money for bills and for you.
So I told Mr. Trujillo why I wouldn’t be selling my beans this time, and he looked at me sort of funny again, then gave me a bushel from his rows too. We gave the Claybournes zucchini also.
I hope you won’t mind about the bean money.
Love,Angela the Delivery Girl
September 2
Dearest Sarah,
We sold some tomatoes this week, and I got $13.00. They’re easier to pick than beans, and I like the way the vines smell. I also like to stop every now and then and eat one—all juicy and warm from the sun. I wish I could send you one in the mail.
I hope that you’ll understand this part. I was in a store last week, looking for notebooks and pencils for school, when I saw this little sweatshirt just Lindsay’s size with a penguin on it. She needs school clothes. I knew it would remind her of you; she still adores the penguin you sent her. It was $9.99, and so I bought it for her. Lindsay was thrilled. She put it on and wouldn’t take it off, even for bed. But after tithing and the notebooks … well, I hope you understand.
School starts Monday.
Love,Angela the Spendthrift
P.S. I promised the Claybourne kids some pumpkins for Halloween and a watermelon.
September 15
Dearest Sarah,
Thanks for not minding about the sweatshirt. Enclosed is a money order for $7.20.
Mom says having the vegetables is helping. The bills for the operation are getting paid gradually, and Lindsay’s eating fine now, and Mom and Dad always seem to find the money to send you.
Now for my surprise! The Trujillos are having the missionaries come and teach them! They came over last night, and the elders taught them the first missionary lesson. Mr. (Brother) Trujillo gave the prayer and thanked Heavenly Father for “the flower”—he meant me!—“that bloomed in his garden and showed him a more beautiful way of life.” Wasn’t that beautiful? And they’re coming back next week for another lesson.
We served watermelon from the garden!
Love,Angela the Missionary

At the same time, many Congolese emigrants found the Church in Europe and the United States. Mbuyi Nkitabungi was baptized in Belgium in 1980, served a full-time mission in England, and then felt prompted to return home in 1985. “One of my righteous objectives is to build … Zion in the heart of Zaïre,” he wrote to Church headquarters. “I know there is quite a few members from my country who are waiting for that opportunity. … Tell me everything I have to do.”
Nkitabungi was put in contact with other members in Kinshasa, who met in the home of Mike and Katie Bowcutt, an American couple. Like Nkitabungi, many members were Congolese Saints who had joined the Church abroad. Because the Church was still not legally recognized, however, the members held no public meetings. Nevertheless, the group quickly outgrew the Bowcutts’ home and moved their meetings to Nkitabungi’s garage.
In February 1986, the president of the country promised during a broadcast on state-run television that he would grant the Church legal recognition, and members soon began preaching the gospel openly. That same month, Ralph and Jean Hutchings, the first missionaries called to Zaïre, arrived and found a growing group in Kinshasa. Recognition was granted officially in April, and by June 1987 the Church was growing so quickly in Zaïre that a mission was organized, with Ralph Hutchings as president.
Missionaries also reached out to the unofficial congregations near Lubumbashi. Although the transition proved difficult for some, a second center of strength soon emerged. Between May and July 1987, 170 people were baptized. Some were traveling as far as 300 kilometers (186 miles) from Pweto, Kolwezi, and Likasi to attend meetings.
When 21-year-old Elie Monga of Kolwezi read the Book of Mormon in 1987, he was impressed. “I strongly felt,” he later said, “that that’s what I need.” Monga traveled the 300 kilometers to Lubumbashi to meet with the missionaries. After only one discussion, he decided to be baptized. After his baptism, with encouragement from missionaries, he held Sunday School meetings in his home. “We started gathering and teaching our friends [and family],” he said, “bringing them the message of hope through the restored gospel.” A large group was soon meeting in Monga’s home. When the first baptismal service in Kolwezi was held the next year, it took more than three and a half hours for Monga to baptize the 82 converts who had accepted the gospel. It was one success among many: in 1990, just four years after the Church received government recognition, branches and districts were thriving in Kinshasa, Lubumbashi, and many other cities throughout the country.

During April 1993 my father was buying groceries at a local store in the little town of Realicó, Argentina. Two young men approached him and asked if they could visit his family. My father agreed, and they soon came to our home.
I can still hear my little brother, Sebastián, running to my bedroom and whispering excitedly, “Come look! The missionaries are here!” We had seen them on the streets before, and I must confess we had made fun of them.
That day they shared the Book of Mormon with my parents. They stopped by two days later, and to their amazement my mother had read the whole book and had a list of questions. The missionaries were very excited, but my parents were not looking for a change of religion as much as they were interested in developing a friendship with the elders. “Talk all you want, but you will not get a convert out of this family” was my parents’ first reaction to the discussions. Still the missionaries continued to teach us with a lot of faith and patience.
On a cold night we offered to take the elders home after a discussion. On the way back to our house I asked my mother if she was really thinking of being baptized into this new religion. Her reply stunned me: “If I find it to be the truth, then I will get baptized.” I realized I should also know for myself if it was true.
When the commitment to obey the Word of Wisdom came up in the discussions, I thought it was the end. My mother had tried to stop smoking for 16 years without positive results, and my father sometimes drank alcohol at social events. I didn’t think we needed to change our lifestyle to please some strange religion. Still the missionaries asked us to pray to find out if the gospel had been restored and if Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. A miracle occurred because my mother was able to stop smoking. She knew God was trying to let her know the Church was true, and she was baptized.
I kept reading and praying, and once I had a testimony of the Book of Mormon, I entered the waters of baptism. A few weeks later my father made the same decision, and two years later so did my brother. Although I was only 13 years old when I joined the Church, I knew I had found the greatest treasure ever.
We were sealed as an eternal family in the Buenos Aires Argentina Temple, and we have discovered the joy the gospel brings to our lives. As I look back, I can see the Spirit of God working in our hearts and helping us come out of the darkness into the light.
I love my family. I love the gospel. I love being a missionary. And now when I knock on a door and people say, “Talk all you want, but you will not get a convert out of this family,” I smile and pray that the Spirit will touch them the way it touched my family 10 years ago.