Gospel Story Finder

When Ron was about 17 and I was about 12, his teacher told him that he needed to gain a testimony of his own. He said to me, “I intend to find out for myself if the Church is true. I’m going to pay any price to know for myself.”
Over the next few weeks, I watched him. I’d find him on his knees praying. I’d see him reading the Book of Mormon. I was amazed at how diligent he was.
One morning a few weeks later, I found Ron lying on his bed with his knees tucked up on his chest. He had great pain in his lower right abdomen.
My mom called for an ambulance. As we stood there over my brother, Ron said to my dad through gritted teeth, “Please, I need a priesthood blessing.” I didn’t know if my dad knew how to give a priesthood blessing. I’d never seen him do it. But he laid his hands on my brother’s head and pronounced a blessing of healing. About the time my dad said, “Amen,” Ron jumped off the bed and said the pain was totally gone. He was absolutely thrilled that the Lord had answered his prayer through that blessing.
My parents still took my brother to the hospital to be checked. All the doctors could say was that Ron’s symptoms sounded like he had had a ruptured appendix, but now they could find no trace of a problem.
Later that day, Ron told me, “Gene, I now know that the gift of healing is real. When Dad put his hands on my head, I felt the Spirit of the Lord go through my whole body. I know the priesthood is real.”
Then he said, “I also now know for myself that the Church is true. Not because of the healing, but because of what has been happening to me in reading the Book of Mormon. I’ve got my testimony by reading and praying over every page. I know all that we’ve been taught in the Church is correct, and I am going on a mission.” I’d never heard Ron say that before. It was evident to me, even as a young boy, that he had really been impacted by something.

One of the most important days of my life was the day I was baptized. I was 40 years old. The missionaries had knocked on my family’s door in Brazil. Whenever I read in the Book of Mormon about the sons of Mosiah, who were such powerful missionaries, I think of Elder Hansen and Elder Furness. They were well groomed, so it was easy for us to invite them into our home. They were well educated and polite. They had beautiful smiles and a good spirit with them. I love those missionaries who taught me to know the Lord. After I was baptized, they placed their hands on my head to confirm me. I cried a lot because I had never had such a wonderful feeling. And I have had this same wonderful feeling ever since.

I have a good friend here in Laie. And he was such an example to me. I have not gotten permission to use his name, so I won't tell who he is. One day his wife was killed on Kam Highway because a young kid just ran into her, and just messed her up and she died on the spot. My friend that very day went to that young man, who just ran into his wife and killed her, and told him that he forgave him. That is so huge. Just so huge. He understood what the gospel is all about. He understood what the gospel is all about.

Recently I visited with the family of a young mother who died while giving birth to her fifth child. I expected anguish but found hope and determination. Her husband cherished the time they had together. Their children understood the plan of salvation and knew they could be with their mother again, forever. She had never been too busy for those most dear to her. At her young age, this sister had served as a Relief Society president, always putting her marriage and family first.
As I visited with the mother of the deceased woman, she remarked that her highest priority was to raise her daughters to be righteous women. Even though her daughter’s life was cut short, this daughter created a tapestry of righteous gospel living in her home.
Together your general Relief Society presidency, under the direction of our priesthood leaders, created a declaration for our Relief Society sisters around the world. The declaration reminds us who we are; and home, family, and personal enrichment night has been set aside to develop these skills.
Do we recognize in our own lives the opportunities for creation that are there? Do we prize the gifts, talent, and choice spirits that God has given us? Do we share the creations of our hearts, minds, and hands with others?
Another mother and counselor in a stake Relief Society, though tremendous health problems threatened her, created a remarkable service project in her stake. Through fasting and prayer, miracles occurred, and the sisters of one stake created something extraordinary for others who were cold, hungry, and sick.
Who knows how many lives have been blessed because one woman refused to dwell on her afflictions and instead created the tapestry of service, a monument to the compassion and nobility of the human spirit.
This story is repeated by tens of thousands of faithful members each year. In July of last year, the Presiding Bishopric distributed a letter suggesting that any who wanted to contribute to the relief of the suffering of the refugees in Kosovo could make quilts and send them to the Latter-day Saint Humanitarian Center for distribution. Our intent was to collect and ship 30,000 quilts.
We have received more than 125,000 quilts. These quilts have been sent not only to those suffering in Kosovo, but to disaster victims in Turkey, Venezuela, Mexico, and other countries, including Mozambique and Zimbabwe.
During this past year I was privileged to travel to Kosovo, where I personally wrapped many of these quilts around babies and women grateful and teary-eyed. We have found that because of this great organization, we can create in our own homes, teaching family, friends, and neighbors to serve and assist others clear across the world. In the name of the Relief Society and humanitarian services of the Church, we can be creators. Isn’t that exciting?

The workbook, Addiction Recovery Program: A Guide to Addiction Recovery and Healing (item no. 36764), outlines the 12 steps and the principles associated with them. Each step has a scripture study section with questions to ponder and space for writing. One participant says that the straightforward approach of the 12 steps gave him hope. By the time Clifford awoke from a coma caused by a drug overdose, his marriage and career had ended. He wondered how he could ever put his life back together. “To have the gospel in little bite-sized steps, 12 of them—I could do that,” he says.
Many say that steps four and five, which focus on personal inventory and confession, are the most challenging. But it depends on the individual. Paula, who struggled with compulsive eating and overdependence in her relationships, worked hardest on step eight—forgiving and restoring relationships—as she tried to forgive her abusive father. She says now, “I can’t tell you how grateful I am for this miracle in my life: to love and forgive.”
The change that has happened to me is I’m not miserable all the time. Sometimes it’s not easy. Perhaps the Lord doesn’t see fit to take it all from me right now, but He strengthens me so I can bear it patiently and cheerfully, and I can progress. He lightens it just enough that I learn the most that I can.
The gospel teaches that grace comes through the Atonement of Jesus Christ (see Ether 12:27). Grace is an enabling power that makes recovery possible. It is “divine means of help or strength” that helps us do good works we wouldn’t be able to do or maintain by ourselves.2
Suzanne, who went through the program herself before becoming a Church-service missionary, says, “I knew that God could tell me what to do, but I never knew He had the power to help me do it. Now I understand the grace that comes through the Atonement of Jesus Christ.”
Through grace, participants regain the hope they have lost. One participant, Edward, grew up in the Church, but his childhood insecurities left him feeling that he wasn’t as good as other people. He says, “I didn’t understand the Atonement, and I didn’t love myself, so nothing really mattered.” When he was in his 20s, he started drinking and using drugs in an attempt to dull his negative feelings—a pattern that continued for 20 years.
When he was arrested a second time for drunk driving, he was ordered to get treatment. In the Church’s program, he learned that receiving forgiveness and regaining a sense of self-worth were possible. He attended church every Sunday, studied the 12 steps, and applied these gospel principles and actions to his life. He became willing to turn his life over to Heavenly Father and, in the process, learned how to love himself and how to let the Atonement work in his life. “I couldn’t overcome all these things by myself,” he says. “The Savior can do for me what I can’t do for myself.”
Those who struggle with addiction aren’t the only ones who can experience a mighty change: loved ones find that as they apply the 12 steps to their own lives and attend recovery meetings, they can experience the blessings of the Atonement in regard to their own grief. In some areas the addiction recovery program provides support groups for family and friends, who discover that the Savior can heal them of the pain, anger, and guilt that loved ones sometimes feel.
When Deborah learned of her son’s drug addiction, she was plagued by feelings of guilt as she thought about how she could have been a better mother. Then she discovered that she could apply the steps to herself. She says, “What I learned in the program is that no matter how my son is doing, I can still be happy and have Heavenly Father in my life.” She adds, “On the outside I look the same, but my life has completely changed on the inside.”
Shannon, whose husband faced a pornography addiction, attended the support group for spouses. As she participated, she noticed a change in herself as well. At first she focused on the pain she felt over her husband’s addiction. But then, as she started learning and applying the steps, a miraculous change occurred. She says, “I began talking less and less about my husband and more about what I had learned from each step. I began to see how the Lord was working in my life.”
In the past I was able to abstain for periods of time. I’d get myself back in good standing with the Church and serve in callings, and everyone would tell me how great I was. But I didn’t feel great on the inside at all. And that’s why abstaining is just one part of it. True recovery is not doing it and not wanting to do it because our nature is changed.
Mark learned that through the Atonement, individuals can not only stop their addictive behaviors but also heal the underlying causes of their addiction. And with the help of their priesthood leaders, they can repent and bring the blessings of the gospel back into their lives. Doug LeCheminant of LDS Family Services clarifies the objective of the program: “Our end goal for those in the program is that they will be able to make and keep temple covenants—not just stay sober.” The sweetest fruits are activation, baptism or rebaptism, priesthood advancement, temple ordinances, and restoration of blessings.
Steve, who found himself in jail wearing his church suit, says, “Today I’m clean and sober because of my Heavenly Father and the 12 steps.” His activity in the Church is especially meaningful to him. “I am a father. I am a priests quorum adviser. I am also a facilitator because I want to give back to a program that gave so freely to me.”
Every day I seek my Heavenly Father in prayer and through the scriptures. In the morning I read books about recovery, and I write my feelings and my impressions. I call a support person in the program to help clarify my thinking. I go to the meetings. I try to serve. And I have never relapsed on a day that I have done those things.
Those daily tasks keep Mark spiritually well. Others who have been through the program have discovered the same truth: maintaining spiritual strength requires continuous effort. No one is completely safe from relapse, but through daily gospel living, those who struggle with addiction come unto Christ and receive strength and hope.
“I’m learning bit by bit, precept upon precept,” says Mark. “My nature is changing, and it’s the first time since this started that I can say I have hope. I truly believe that I never have to relapse again.”

1 Once upon a time there lived a dinosaur. He was a brontosaur and his name was Ben. Ben was sad and went all around the lake wishing he had something to do.
2 One day he saw a pretty girl dinosaur. She was a brontosaur too. He was surprised!
3 He shyly nodded his head. “What is your name?” he asked politely.
“My name is Sabrina,” she said.
4 Tyrannosaurus Rex was king of the meat-eating dinosaurs because he was the biggest. He was mean and often ate other dinosaurs.
One day he started to attack Sabrina while she was eating leaves off a tree. She had not seen him.
5 Ben liked Sabrina so he quickly ran up to Rex and shouted loudly, “Ha-a-a-a-a-a-a-h!”
6 Then he yelled to Sabrina, “Run fast to the water!”
7 Ben surprised Rex so much that he tripped and fell over a cliff into a mud puddle! Rex didn’t bother Ben or Sabrina ever again.
Sabrina said, “You’re so brave! Will you marry me?”
8 Ben became shy again, bowed his head and said, “A-a-um, I—I g—guess sooo!”
And they lived happily ever after together by the lake.

When I was 17, I made an agreement with my friend José Luis to teach him how to swim. So one morning we dedicated time to practice. When our lesson was over and I was leaving the pool, I heard my friend shouting for help. He was drowning in the deep end of the pool.
I threw myself into the water and swam toward him while praying for help. As I grabbed his hand to pull him to the surface, my desperate friend climbed onto my back and put me in a choke hold. Now we were both drowning. Trying my best to reach the surface, I prayed with all my might for a miracle from God. Then, slowly but steadily, the power of God was manifest as I felt a hand propelling me toward the shallow end of the pool, bringing us to safety.
This experience confirmed a profound lesson President Russell M. Nelson once taught: “When you reach up for the Lord’s power in your life with the same intensity that a drowning person has when grasping and gasping for air, power from Jesus Christ will be yours.”

A recent experience illustrates the importance of each of these little children. One Saturday morning I was preparing for an activity with one of my grandsons. But before we could make our exit out the door, I heard another small voice inquiring, “Can I go too, Grandpa?” Did you ever try to say no to such a request? That activity would not have been the same without that someone else who really wanted to “go too.” Just as surely, heaven will not be heaven if some of our children who want to “go too” are left behind.

I was attending a track meet, and there were about a dozen fellows who had qualified to represent their schools in the mile run at this invitational. As the gun was fired, those young men, who had trained hard for this vigorous race, took off. Four of them were running in a bunch so close together that it looked to us as if they might trip each other. Suddenly one fellow spiked the shoe of the boy running in front of him. As the spiked runner went to take his next step, his shoe flew off.
I wondered what this boy who had been leading the race would do. He had several choices: He could have grabbed the boy who had spiked him and done something to get even. He could have run over to the coach and yelled, “So this is what you get. I’ve trained half my life for this, and now on the big day, look what happens!” He could have said to his mom and dad, “Look what that guy did to me!” Or he could have sat down and cried.
But he didn’t do any of these things; he just kept running. This happened on the first lap, and I thought he would quit after that lap. But he kept running every step of the way. The cinders came up through his sock into his foot, but he said nothing. He just kept running. He finished the race, and I thought, “What a boy!” He said nothing. He simply finished the job he had to do.

When Etienne Marakavi arrived in South Africa at the age of 25, he had no family, no home, and very little money.
Having lost his parents and survived many civil war atrocities in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, he left the country by himself on foot. At 19 years old, he began an epic journey, travelling from country to country in pursuit of a new home. He stayed in refugee camps along the way, relying on donated food and shelter to survive.
Eventually, Etienne found himself in Norway. There, he had the life-changing experience of meeting the missionaries and joining The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. But a fruitless attempt to gain asylum status meant that after some time, he was forced to leave. “I went to Rwanda, Uganda, and then Kenya,” said Etienne, “where I was advised to leave the country. Then I moved to Tanzania, where I was told the country does not accept asylum seekers. I moved to Malawi, where I unsuccessfully tried to apply for asylum, and I had to leave due to the harsh conditions of life. I managed to slip through Mozambique, where I got mugged and robbed.” He made it to Tongogara, a refugee camp in Zimbabwe. But the conditions in the camp were extremely harsh and “hopeless,” said Etienne, so he left again—this time bound for South African shores.
Because he had found the Church, he had something he didn’t previously: a testimony. But his temporal circumstances were dire.
“I had every expectation of being homeless for several years,” says Etienne.
And in the beginning, he was. He joined a group of homeless people on the streets of a small border town called Musina and lived on discarded food to stay alive.
But some months later he managed to travel to Johannesburg. There, he gradually started finding menial jobs. Now, a few years later, he pays his own rent, has completed his high-school certificate, recently finished the Church-sponsored distance-learning “Pathway” programme, and is now registered with BYU–Idaho to earn a degree in computer science. He has also remained active and faithful in the Church, currently serving as the ward assistant clerk.
Etienne shares the three biggest things he learned about self-reliance in this extraordinary journey, and his answers show an understanding that self-reliance permeates every part of our lives. “People should not confuse the topic of self-reliance with self-sufficiency,” he says. “I firmly believe that self-reliance involves both spiritual and temporal aspects of people’s lives.”
His three personal lessons are:
“What I first learned about the principle of self-reliance is to always rely on the Lord through the basic routines such as morning prayers and daily scripture studies while I am trying to achieve the goals that I set out,” says Etienne. “Self-reliance in this case means to have faith in the Lord and at that time I am exercising the free agency that the Lord bestowed upon me”.
“The second thing I learned is the ability to seek help that will impact your life positively in the long run both temporally and spiritually,” says Etienne. “In other words, you better learn to ask people to teach you how to fish, rather than constantly asking people to give you the fish.”
When he first arrived in South Africa, Etienne remembers the struggle of meeting basic financial obligations. “It was really very difficult,” he said. But as he battled through these challenges and asked for help when he needed it, he always kept in mind his end goal: “finding a job so that I could take care of myself.”
“The third thing that I learned about self-reliance is the ability to help others to become in their turn self-reliant,” says Etienne. “We all are gifted in one way or another, and we can use our gifts to help and bless others so that they too, in their turn, can even help many more. By empowering our fellow beings, we learn and enrich our lives in the process.”
Above all, Etienne’s faith in the Lord helps him maintain perspective through the tough times. “I think my trials are small compared to what Joseph Smith and the early Church pioneers went through,” he says. “In the trying moments, I always try to remember the words that God told the Prophet Joseph Smith while he was in Liberty Jail, as recorded in Doctrine and Covenants 122:
“If thou art called to pass through tribulation; if thou art in perils among false brethren; if thou art in perils among robbers; if thou art in perils by land or by sea; . . .
“. . . And above all, if the very jaws of hell shall gape open the mouth wide after thee, know thou, my son, that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good. . . .
“. . . Therefore, fear not what man can do, for God shall be with you forever and ever” (verses 5, 7, 9).

Answer: I struggled as a child. I had a wonderful family and didn’t go through any obvious tragedies, but I always seemed to feel angry at myself and those around me. I would take these feelings out on my siblings. The more I mistreated them, the worse I felt. And yet I couldn’t seem to stop. This behavior drove a wedge between me and my family members. When I was 12 years old, I thought I was an evil, rotten, worthless person. I thought everyone would be better off without me.
Answer: I remember one time at the doctor’s office, the pediatrician asked Mom if she had ever heard her children say, “I wish I’d never been born.” And Mom answered, “No, all of the kids are fine.” I was surprised that Mom didn’t know I had thought about killing myself. So I tried to tell her what I was going through. But she acted so shocked that it made me never want to talk about it again. I pretended that I hadn’t really meant it.
Answer: Yes, but I didn’t really understand what a testimony was. I always knew deep down that there was a God, but Satan was working hard to convince me to doubt everything else. So I started wondering if the entire Church was wrong. Fortunately, I had some great Young Women leaders who were inspired to help me and show me a lot of love. One of them in particular helped me start feeling better about myself.
Answer: A bright spot was my Young Women class. I had a teacher who taught right at my level. She’s since moved away, and I wish I could tell her what she meant to me. I don’t remember what she taught exactly, but I remember feeling like I belonged there.
Another thing that really helped were temple trips. Even though I often felt worthless and didn’t think anyone cared about me, I enjoyed the spark of light and goodness of the temple. I often felt the Spirit there. One trip in particular made a difference. It started out bad because one of the older girls said something hurtful to me. But later that day, she apologized and gave me a hug. And I learned that I really liked hugs! After that, I asked her for a hug every Sunday. One Sunday I sat down in sacrament meeting without getting a hug from her. And she came up to me and said, “Where’s my hug?” with a smile. I felt so surprised and special that she sought me out and showed me love. She and I became closer and closer friends. I know hugs don’t help everyone, but they helped me.
Answer: Sure! She was the craziest, most energetic person I have ever known. She seemed to have never-ending amounts of happiness to share. She greeted me with so much enthusiasm and love every Sunday and gave me a hug. Her dose of goodness seemed to be just what I needed. I would carry it with me during the week. Over time, I began to accept that what she said was true. The Spirit was working on me. This is when my behavior finally started to improve in a lasting way. And my suicidal thoughts, which I’d had about a year, went away, though I still had to work on how I felt about myself.
Answer: Another turning point was when I began to volunteer at a nonprofit organization each week with my older brother and my mom. I was sometimes the only volunteer on my team who showed up regularly, so my supervisor counted on me. I found I really liked that. For example, one time we were cleaning up together, and she got called away to do something else. I kept sweeping and working hard. When she came back, she said that I had really good initiative and gave me so many compliments. And it felt so good. I realized that working hard and doing a good job was fun. Helping was fun! So I began to try my hardest to be the best volunteer that I could be. I gained enough experience to train other volunteers. I developed a passion for this organization and made friends.
Photograph from Getty Images
During this time, my behavior continued to change in positive ways as I felt the Spirit increase in my life. Over the next couple of years, I made friends again with my family members. I started feeling like a good person instead of a bad person. I became a happier person. People even commented on how much I smiled. And my happiness no longer depended on having a leader saying good things at church. My testimony of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ was growing, and I could feel Their love for me.
Answer: My testimony keeps growing stronger. I know now that Heavenly Father loves every one of us—including me. I know the Book of Mormon is the word of God. I know that no matter what mistakes we have made, we can come back to goodness. We can repent through the Atonement of Jesus Christ. Anyone can return to Him again.
Answer: Please, if you are experiencing low self-worth, or depression, or want to die, or any other feelings like that, reach out for help. Go to a parent, a youth leader, a former Primary teacher, a bishop, even a friend—anyone you feel you can trust. I promise you that Heavenly Father does not want you to die. He wants you to live and feel joy. He wants you to feel His love. Turn to Jesus Christ. He can help you throughout your trials. He knows everything you are going through. Meanwhile, Satan is the one who tells you lies about yourself. Ignore him. He wants you to fail. Heavenly Father wants you to succeed.
Answer: Honestly, I still have a hard time accepting compliments or believing good things about myself sometimes. And I think insults hurt me more than they hurt most people, even if they’re just a joke. I still sometimes have a hard time believing that people love me until I feel convinced. But overall, I like myself and who I am becoming. It is a glorious feeling!

Yupha Thubthimthong stood transfixed at the scene before her. Fear, revulsion, and horror overwhelmed her; she longed to turn away, not wanting to be part of it, even to help. Before her lay the carnage of a train wreck—a passenger train from Ban Pong and a cargo train headed for southern Thailand had collided head-on near the station, derailing the passenger train. Many people had been killed, and many more were severely injured, trapped in the smoldering wreckage.
Yupha, a member of the Woman’s Welfare Services Society of Thailand, had been summoned to help. She had stopped only long enough to put on the blue uniform of the Society and then had rushed to the scene of the accident. But she had not been prepared for the terrible sight that confronted her. As she hesitated a “light whisper” seemed to say to her: “You are a Latter-day Saint. You must let your light shine for the world to see. You must be strong enough, patient enough, and brave enough to go and help.” Strengthened and fortified by the voice, she took a deep breath and began the gruesome task of pulling bodies from the wreckage and preparing the injured for transportation to the hospital.
Though the entire area seem covered with blood and a foul odor hung in the air, Yupha worked on determinedly and soon came upon a woman nearly crushed under a heavy gas storage tank. Yupha rushed to help her, realizing as she drew closer that the woman was pregnant and quite near her delivery time. As the tank was lifted, the infant was born. Overwhelmed, Yupha excused herself. She needed time to regain her courage once again.
Groping blindly for a place to calm herself, she was confronted suddenly by a woman waving a stick who raged at her, “My children are dead because of you! Look at the destruction your carelessness and negligence have caused!” Yupha staggered back from the threatened assault, confused at first at the woman’s accusations. The woman was overcome with grief, because she had lost two children in the train wreck and had found only one of the bodies. The poor mother had seen Yupha’s uniform and mistaken her for a railroad employee.
As calmly as she could, Yupha explained that she was not working for the railroad, that she had come only to help. Three police officers noticed the conflict and warned the raging mother that she would be arrested should she harm Yupha.
“What if that mother were me?” Yupha thought to herself. “Wouldn’t I be crazy with grief, too?” She turned to the policemen and said, “No, please don’t harm her. She is only reacting out of grief.” Surprised, the police protested that the woman had tried to hit Yupha and might try to do so again.
“I am not afraid,” she replied. “Heavenly Father teaches that we are all brothers and sisters; we must love one another. She will not harm me.”
Doubtfully the police released the woman, and Yupha returned to her grisly tasks. The difficult and heart-rending work took several more hours.
At length a search was started among the workers for someone with blood type “O”. A small girl was about to undergo surgery, and the hospital had exhausted its blood supply. Without the blood and surgery the child would die. Yupha volunteered and rode to the hospital to donate the needed blood. She had never before given blood, and because it was so badly needed more than the usual amount (4.7 deciliters) was drawn out of Yupha’s veins. A feeling of urgency hung over the hospital and the workers. Not realizing she should rest after blood is drown, Yupha left the hospital and returned once again to the accident scene.
By late in the afternoon the worst tasks had been accomplished, and Yupha’s thoughts returned to her own children and their needs. She got ready to go home. But before she could go, a railroad official requested that the volunteer workers meet at the hospital where Yupha had donated blood. The director wanted to meet them and express his appreciation.
The Minister of Public Health thanked the workers also, and while they were talking the grief-stricken mother from the station entered the room, searching about for someone. A doctor with her called out, “Is there a Mrs. Yupha here?” (It is the custom in Thailand to address people by their title and first name rather than the last name as in English-speaking countries.) Knowing she must acknowledge who she was, Yupha nodded rather reluctantly. By this time the woman had seen Yupha, ran to her, embraced her, then began to cry.
Yupha stared at the doctor, bewildered. “Your donation of blood saved this woman’s daughter,” he explained. “She has come to thank you.”
Yupha’s face showed her relief as the woman tearfully expressed her gratitude, then commented, “How can you stay so calm? When I have been so angry with you, you remain serene. What makes you like that?”
Yupha’s answer was much the same as she had given the police officers earlier: “My church teaches that we are all brothers and sisters and should love one another no matter who it is or what they do.”
While this scene took place, Dr. Martin, the Minister of Public Health looked on. He was greatly impressed with Yupha and her response to the once grief-stricken but now joyous mother.
Dr. Martin was in an unusual position. He had previously been head of the Department of Education, which supervised the Department of Religion, and this latter department had imposed visa restrictions on the LDS missionaries. Dr. Martin’s response was therefore a welcome one. Noting the beautiful way in which Yupha reacted to a difficult situation, he recognized the fruits of LDS missionary work and promised that in the future he would work toward easing visa restrictions.
Meanwhile, the grateful mother pressed Yupha for more information on the Church and its teachings.
“May I come to your church when I have been to the funeral of my child?”
“You are always welcome,” Yupha assured her.
At last the long, eventful day was over. Yupha returned home to her own children, exhausted, but warm with the knowledge that she had listened to the “light whisper” of the Spirit and put her faith into action.

I went to a bookstore with my mom, and she said I could pick out one book for myself. I found a book I liked in the kids’ section. My mom read the back of the book and decided that I could get it. When we got home, I couldn’t wait to start reading my new book. It was so good I couldn’t stop reading it. I was close to the middle when something unexpected happened. There was a bad word! I had a feeling I should tell my mom, but I didn’t think it was a big deal. So I kept reading. When I was on the next page, the feeling came to me again. This time it was stronger. I showed my mom the bad word. We returned the book to the bookstore. I found a different book that I really liked, and it had nothing bad in it. I had a great time reading it.
I am so glad I listened to the Holy Ghost. If I hadn’t, then I’d probably feel horrible right now. Sometimes one simple word can hurt you. My mom and dad are proud of me for telling them. I felt great that day!

In October 2022, I dedicated the Bangkok Thailand Temple. For months I had worked on the prayer of dedication. Those sacred words had been translated into twelve languages, and Sister Rasband and I thought all was ready for the important day of dedication.

The night before the dedication, I was awakened from my sleep with an unsettled, urgent feeling about the dedicatory prayer. I tried to set aside the prompting, thinking after months of work that the prayer was in place. But the Spirit would not leave me alone. I sensed certain words were missing, and by divine design they came to me by revelation. I inserted in the prayer these words near the end, and I’ve used them in every temple dedication since that time: “May we think celestial, letting Thy Spirit prevail in our lives, and strive to be peacemakers always.”

In that revelation, the Lord was reminding me to heed the words of our living prophet: “Think Celestial!”3 “Let God Prevail,”4 and “Peacemakers Needed.”5

This story happened in Brazil.
“Jacob, do you know the answer?” Mrs. Lelis asked.
Jacob opened his eyes and lifted his head off the desk. All his classmates were looking at him. His teacher was staring at him too. He felt his cheeks get warm. He had fallen asleep in class again!
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Lelis,” he said. “Can you please say the question again?”
“Sure. But please stop napping in class.”
He shrunk down in his seat. “Yes, ma’am.”
Jacob came to his new school just a few weeks ago. He loved to learn, and his classmates were nice. But there was one problem—he was always so sleepy! His new school was far away, so he had to wake up very early to be there on time.
At first, it was easy to focus in class. But it got harder and harder. Sometimes Jacob was so tired he fell asleep.
The next day, The school principal asked Jacob and his parents to meet with her. She smiled and welcomed them into her office.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “Jacob is a great student. But his teacher says he’s not interested in his classes. Sometimes he doesn’t focus, and he seems very tired. Is he OK?”
His mother nodded. “Jacob worked hard to be able to go to school here, but it’s far from our house. He needs to wake up early every day. So he gets sleepy in his morning classes.”
“Oh, is that all?” the principal said. “You should try coffee drops! Put a few drops of very strong coffee in Jacob’s drink each morning. That will keep him awake.”
Jacob frowned. “But our family doesn’t drink coffee, ma’am.”
The principal looked confused. “It will be hard for you to learn if you keep falling asleep. You should at least think about it.”
When they left the principal’s office, Jacob’s thoughts were mixed up. He wanted to do better in school, but he wanted to follow the commandments too.
That night, his family read about the Word of Wisdom in the scriptures.
When it was Jacob’s turn, he read, “And all saints who remember to keep and do these sayings … shall find wisdom and great treasures of knowledge. And shall run and not be weary, and shall walk and not faint.”
Then he had an idea!
He stood up from his chair. “Instead of coffee drops, I’ll use faith drops!”
“What do you mean?” his father asked.
Jacob smiled. “Every morning before breakfast, we can say a prayer and ask Heavenly Father to bless me so I don’t feel so sleepy. Our prayers will be like drops of faith!”
Mom and Dad smiled too. “That sounds like a great idea!” Dad said.
The next morning, their family knelt and said a prayer that Jacob would have the energy to stay awake. They did the same thing the next day. And the day after that. Each night, Jacob tried to go to bed early too. And each morning Jacob’s family had faith that Heavenly Father would help him.
Over time, their drops of faith worked. Jacob could focus for the whole day! God had answered their prayers. And Jacob knew He was proud of him for following the Word of Wisdom.
“Ready for class, Jacob?” Mrs. Lelis asked one morning as he walked into the classroom.
Jacob nodded with a big grin on his face. He had his drops of faith before school. He was ready for anything!

Not long ago a mother and father from the Republic of Georgia faced a terrifying reality. The doctors told them their baby had a heart condition, and unless he had surgery he would die. Because they did not have adequate facilities in Georgia, the mother and father walked across their country and all the way to Yerevan, Armenia, seeking medical help.

The Armenian doctors examined the child and agreed that the baby needed heart surgery. They knew how to perform the surgery and they had the necessary facilities, but they couldn’t perform the operation because they didn’t have the right tubing. As much as they wanted to help, there was nothing they could do. They told the couple to take their baby home to die.

As you know, the Church—through its Humanitarian Service arm—sends millions of pounds of food, clothing, and medical and educational materials throughout the world each year. As it so happened, Elder and Sister Sangster were serving a humanitarian mission in Armenia, and they had just received a container of medical supplies.

You may have already guessed that tucked away in this container of medical supplies was a box of precisely the kind of tubing needed for this child’s operation.

When the doctors discovered the tubing, they rushed the baby into surgery and performed the operation.

That’s a wonderful story and one that repeats itself daily as a result of the tremendous humanitarian help that is given to many nations in the world. The great welfare effort given by the Church benefits members and nonmembers during times of need. It reaches out to care for others. But what happened later makes it an even better story. One day, soon after the operation, Elder and Sister Sangster heard a knock at their door. When they opened it, this loving mother and father fell to their knees and wept as they thanked the Sangsters and their church for supplying the precious tubing that had saved the life of their child.

It took me a long time to convince Vickie that she could change things. But now, after all that’s happened this last year, she will never again doubt—nor will I—that within one individual is the power to change the lives of many.
I first met Vickie about two years ago when she was a junior in high school. The circumstances that brought us together were such that I knew immediately she was in need of a little friendly direction. How to do it in a subtle way was a problem I solved the first day she and her friend Pat came to my home. I was trying to convince them they needed to get involved in some interesting activities.
“Hey, you guys, I’ve got a deal for you,” I said. “How about free drama lessons in exchange for some baby-sitting?”
They thought about it, and giggled, and decided it would be fun. Little did they dream that that weekly committed hour was just a ruse to keep them coming. Oh, I carried out my part of the bargain, but I was much less interested in their theatrical potential than in their lives.
About five weeks later, right between Our Town and Peter Pan, we gave up the “drama lessons,” mostly because it was impossible to emote properly with my three preschoolers on the premises. But the lessons had served their purpose, and Vickie and Pat kept coming. Pat’s story is a good one, too, but this one is about Vickie. So it’s into her life that we now go.
Life was a drag to her. School was boring. Church was boring. Home was boring. Home—that’s what I started asking questions about. For I had learned enough to know that’s where most things start, good and bad. As she described her home to me I had a feeling she could have been talking about thousands of homes throughout the Church.
“Are your parents active in the Church?” I asked.
“Oh, sort of. They were married in the temple but haven’t been back for a long time. They go to church sometimes, but they drink coffee, and sometimes we find beer cans around.”
“Do your parents seem to enjoy one another? Are they happy together?”
“Yeah—I guess so. I mean, they don’t really fight or anything, but they’re not happy in the way that Mormons ought to be happy.”
“What do you talk about at your house?”
“Oh, nothing. Nothing interesting. Oh, they talk about our debts a lot, and how much we owe on different things, and that kind of stuff. But nobody ever talks about the way we feel about something, unless it’s to get mad and yell.”
“Vickie, do you think your parents love you?”
“Oh, I’m sure they love me. They even tell me so. And they do lots of things for me. Like—Dad will work an extra four or five hours to get a new dress for me. But sometimes they won’t go out of their way to be with me. I remember having to go alone to things like Laurel standards nights. It’s sort of weird—I know they love me. But sometimes—I don’t feel like they love me. You know what I mean?”
“Yes. I know what you mean.”
Vickie found herself depressed a lot. She couldn’t sleep. A lot of her friends at the high school were getting into drugs. Not too long before a friend had committed suicide, and sometimes Vickie found herself envying her. But it was the drug thing that had us worried for a while. I gave to her and to some of her friends a copy of a book that tells the story of youth and drugs. And I took them to The Group, a Church-affiliated organization dedicated to helping young people find a better way. I’m happy to report that Vickie did not take any drugs, but there were times when she thought it might be the answer.
The real answer, as I was trying to convince her, lay in coming to grips with the problems of reality and doing something, however small, toward solving them. On a long-into-the-night phone call, she told me she hadn’t been able to sleep for days and would just lie awake thinking of all her worries. I guess that was the first time I gave her an assignment.
“Look, Vickie,” I said, “go get a pencil and paper right now and make two lists—one of all the things you are worried about that you can’t possibly do anything about—and the other of all the things you are worried about that you can do something about. Then put a cross through the first list and say, ‘Lord, this part is yours,’ and next to each item on the other list write down one simple little thing you can do as a beginning to solving the problem. Then put a check by the one thing you’ll start on tomorrow, put it away, say a good prayer, go to bed, and go to sleep!” Next day she claimed to have slept better.
I started giving her other assignments then, each geared to one of the worries that she did have some control over. After a few afternoons of lonely concentration in my writing room, she gradually improved her study habits. I assigned her to try out for the school play, and she had a wonderful time in a small part in Green Pastures.
But things at home were not getting a lot brighter. She claimed she couldn’t talk to her folks about anything. Once over the phone she said to me, “Wow, we’re learning the neatest things in seminary these days—all kinds of stuff about Church history that I never heard of before—it’s really exciting!”
“That’s great, Vickie,” I said. “Have you told your mom that?”
Silence. Then a nervous laugh. “Of course not. I couldn’t tell them anything like that.”
“You can’t tell them the bad stuff or the good stuff, huh? Just the ‘what are we having for supper’ kind of stuff.”
“Yeah. Guess so.”
I then determined to persuade Vickie that she was as much a part of the problem as her parents were. True, they were older, and it is the responsibility of the parents to set the tone of what’s going on at home. But parents inherit their own set of problems from other parents who also have inherited problems. Not that they are exonerated from what they as parents do or don’t do, but simply that by the time a child approaches adulthood he must assume some of the responsibility of deciding what kind of a home he wants to live in and how he wants to relate to his parents.
Mother’s Day was coming up. “Here’s your next assignment, Vickie,” I said. “Invite your mom out to dinner, and make yourself talk about some things that are really important to you.”
“All by myself?” she gasped.
“Take Pat and her mother along.” Finally I convinced her that it was a good idea, and when it was over I got the report.
“We were driving in the car when I invited her,” Vickie said. “She slammed on the brakes and looked at me like she was going to faint. But I could tell she was really happy about it.”
One dinner. One nice moment together. One step in the right direction. But there were so many more steps that needed taking.
It was the dedication of the Provo Temple that prompted Vickie to take the big step. She was the only one in her family who wanted to go, and she felt embarrassed about letting them know she was going to the bishop to get the necessary ticket. A few days after the dedication she came over to see me.
“It was so beautiful,” she said. “But to me it was so depressing. I mean, temples are all about family. That’s why they exist—so we can be together as families forever and ever. My family isn’t even a family now. I sat there all alone and just wished that we could be what we’re supposed to be so that we can be together forever. Because I do love them!”
“Vickie,” I said, quietly and firmly, “if that’s what you want to have happen, then you’re responsible for doing some things to make it happen. And you can. If you really want to, you can change the eternal destiny of your whole family.”
“But how?” She was overwhelmed at the very idea.
“Okay, here’s your next assignment. Next week your family is going to have a family home evening, and you’re going to be in charge of it.”
“Me?” she asked weakly. They had made a few unsuccessful attempts at holding family home evenings in years past, but somebody had just read from the manual, and the whole idea was quickly dropped.
“If you suggest it and volunteer to take charge, will they go along with you?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Well, what do you have to lose?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Not a thing.”
“All right. We’re on,” I said. “In five days I’ll call you and expect to hear that you’ve got it all set up. Okay?”
“Couldn’t we just have drama lessons instead?” she asked weakly, as I pushed her out the door.
Two days before I was due to call her, Vickie called me.
“Carol Lynn?” she said, with overtones of terror in her voice. “We’re having it tonight! This was the only night all week that we could all be home, so we’re going to have it in just two hours.”
“Great!” I replied.
“But what am I going to do?” she wailed. “I got out the manual and decided to use the first lesson, the one about making home into heaven. And my little brother and I are going to make cookies. But I’m scared!”
“Now, calm down, Vickie. Just use what you can from the lesson and don’t worry about it. Talking about your home is a great way to start. But don’t scare your parents off. Be sure you first of all tell them some of the things you like about your home and some things they do that you appreciate.”
“Yeah, yeah, I could do that.”
“And then start talking about some of the things you could be doing that would make your home a better place to be.”
“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Some of the terror had left her voice.
“But above all, Vickie, make it a pleasant time for the family tonight. Make sure you have fun together. After your lesson do something like—like play charades.”
“Yeah! Uh—how do you play charades?”
I gave her a quick over-the-phone lesson on charades and suggested that they use titles out of the hymnbook.
“Have a good time, Vickie, and call me when it’s over.” I hung up the phone and said a little prayer for her.
At nine o’clock the phone rang.
“Carol Lynn?” Her voice was an excited whisper. “Wow! Wow—it was so neat!”
“Hooray! What happened?”
“It was so neat!” she repeated. “They’re still in the other room playing charades and really having fun. I did it, just like you said, about the lesson. We talked about the things we like about our home. Then I asked them what we could be doing to make it a better place. And Dad said—I couldn’t believe it—he said we should be having one of these family nights every week! And then Mom said that we ought to be having family prayer too. Wow—we’ve never had family prayer! But we’re going to tonight, in just a few minutes. I can’t believe it!”
I told Vickie the next day that she couldn’t expect completely smooth sailing from then on—that there would be times when she would think nothing had really changed. And there were those times. But gradually we could not deny that things had changed. Her home became a different place, a place that she sought to be in as much as she had sought to avoid it before. She got up earlier in the mornings in order for them to have family prayer. Gradually her father took more responsibility for conducting the home evenings. She found herself spending hours with her mother, just talking, about big things and little things. Her parents became happier people. They started attending church more consistently and getting rid of certain things on the kitchen shelves. Her little brother thought it was terrific that they had family night now just like some of his friends had. The whole world took on a little brighter shade.
Vickie is away at college this year. A few weeks ago she came back for a visit and found us out in the backyard, cleaning up the winter debris. As we all pitched in, we talked about the joys and the problems of college. And then I asked how things were going with her family. Her face lit up with a brightness that some college freshmen would reserve for talking about the prom.
“Just great,” she said, “really, really great. I love to come home. And something happened just last week—I practically bawl every time I think about it. My dad was ordained a high priest. We’re so happy. My mom’s so proud of him—and she sure lets you know it. The other day my dad and I drove into Salt Lake alone. On the way back he bore his testimony to me for the very first time. It was so beautiful.”
Just the other day I got a letter from Vickie. The last paragraph said, “Carol Lynn, thank you so much for making me hold that first family home evening. I know it was that night that started all the good things that have been happening in our family.”
The power that is within us to change the destiny of our own lives and the lives of others is incredible. And once that power is felt by enough people, the world will never be the same again.

I am forever grateful for this sacred ordinance. My parents died when I was relatively young. My father was a construction worker, and my mother was a stay-at-home mom. They endured many hardships, and both had lived a good life, but they never had a chance to be taught the restored gospel during their mortal life. Just before I left for my mission, I managed to complete my four-generation family history and brought their names with me to the missionary training center. On a crisp fall morning in October 1989, I was baptized for my parents and ancestors at the Provo Utah Temple. My heart was full on that beautiful morning. I felt the tender mercy of our Heavenly Father who, in His grand plan of salvation, provided us a way to redeem our deceased ancestors. As President Wilford Woodruff stated: “There is hardly any principle the Lord has revealed that I have rejoiced more in than in the redemption of our dead; that we will have our fathers, our mothers, our wives and our children with us in the family organization, in the morning of the first resurrection and in the Celestial Kingdom. These are grand principles. They are worth every sacrifice.”6 What a glorious doctrine!

I was excited! Spring was here, and I could play outside without a coat. Kindergarten was almost out for the summer, and I was getting ready to play ball and help Dad with the garden. But I forgot all about Mother’s Day. I didn’t remember until my Primary teacher reminded us the Sunday before. I knew then that I would have to have a secret meeting with Aaron and Jarom.
Aaron and Jarom are my two brothers. Aaron’s four, and Jarom’s only two, but he’s real smart. He can talk really good. In fact, he can do nearly everything Aaron and I can.
That night when we were in bed, I talked to Aaron and Jarom and told them that next Sunday was Mother’s Day and that we just had to get Mom a present. We knew Dad was going to give her something—he always does. But we wanted to give her a big surprise just from us.
We thought about giving Mom a motorcycle or a horse or a pickup truck. Those things would have made good presents, but we knew we couldn’t ever get anything like that till we were a lot older.
We finally decided that we would get all our money together and go to Brother Bob’s store to buy Mom something.
The next day after I came home from school, Aaron and Jarom and I walked to the store. We only had two dollars and three quarters and a dime and four pennies. It wasn’t very much, but we thought we could get Mom something she’d like.
Well, there really wasn’t much in Brother Bob’s store for Mother’s Day, because he sells mostly food and things like that. We looked at the bubble gum, but Mom doesn’t like bubble gum very much. We looked at some boxes of candy because Dad sometimes buys it for her. She likes candy, but just one of those boxes of chocolates with a big bow on it costs lots more money than we had. There was a real good pocketknife inside a glass case, but it cost over ten dollars. There was a watch inside the case too. It was just a little one, not like the big one Dad wears. We figured that since it was such a little watch, we probably had enough money to buy it. But when we put our money on the counter, Brother Bob said we didn’t have quite enough.
We were going to go to the big store by the ice-cream place, but that was a long way away. You have to cross the highway to get there, so we decided not to go. Instead, we each bought a sucker and went home.
On the way home we decided that if we couldn’t buy something for Mom, we’d make something. I remembered that Mom once said she’d sure like a rocking chair to rock Jared in at night. An old rocking chair wouldn’t be very hard to make. We had wood and nails and tools and everything at home.
Every day after school Aaron and Jarom met me at the corner. Then we ran around to the backyard and worked on the rocking chair. Jarom didn’t work much; he just kind of watched us. He’d get tired and go into the house for his blanket, but he always came back and sat on a box and rubbed his blanket and sucked his thumb. We still liked to have him there because it was his present too.
We had a hard time trying to build Mom that rocking chair though. We’d seen Dad hammer and saw, but he had bigger muscles than Aaron and I. I scratched my hand with the saw, and Aaron got silvers in his hands trying to hold the boards still. And I hit my thumb, trying to hammer in a nail.
We worked every day till Saturday, but by Saturday we still didn’t have a rocking chair. We’d hammered some boards together, but they were rough and had crooked nails sticking out of them. It didn’t look like any rocking chair we’d ever seen. It looked more like a table. But Mom didn’t need a table; she needed a rocking chair.
It was hot. Jarom had his blanket and was lying down on a box, sucking his thumb and looking at our rocking chair. I was thinking, and Aaron was over by the grapevine hunting for something. Pretty soon he yelled, “Hey, Alma, come here! Look what I found!”
I threw my hammer down, and Jarom left his blanket and ran over to the grapevine with me. Under the branches, sitting on some crunchy leaves, was a big, fat horned toad. He was brown and had little bumps all over him.
I’d seen horned toads before, because Aaron likes to catch them. But this one was one of the best horned toads I’d ever seen. Aaron picked it up and tickled its tummy and rubbed it against his cheek so he could feel the bumps.
Aaron said, “I know, Alma! Let’s give Mom some horned toads! She said that she thinks they’re cute and that they’re funny to watch when they run. Let’s look for some more, and we’ll each give her a horned toad for Mother’s Day.”
There’s an empty lot behind our house that’s covered with weeds and rocks and other good places for horned toads to hide. Jarom went there with us, too, but he had to leave his blanket behind, because it would get weed stickers in it.
We hunted for a long time, and finally we found another horned toad. It was almost suppertime. We were about ready to give Mom just two horned toads, when suddenly Jarom saw a tiny one. I grabbed it. Now we each had a horned toad to give to Mom.
When we went into the house, we didn’t let anyone see the toads. I found an empty shoe box and put some rocks inside so the horned toads would think they were still outside. Then we wrapped the box in newspaper and punched some holes in the top very carefully.
The next day, after the family came home from church and Primary, Mom started fixing dinner. After my brothers and I helped her set the table, we went out to the garage and brought in our present. I put the box on Mom’s plate so she’d know we hadn’t forgotten about Mother’s Day. Aaron and Jarom and I were grinning as Mom tried to guess what was in the present. She was going to shake it, but we told her she’d better not because it might break. She kept trying to guess, but she couldn’t. Not even Dad could guess what our present was.
After family prayer and the blessing on the food, I told Mom to open our present. I knew we couldn’t eat until Mom had opened it.
She took the paper off really slow, and then she took the lid off the shoe box. Her eyes got really big, but she didn’t say anything, and we weren’t sure if she liked our horned toads. We didn’t know if she thought they were too little or not the right color. But then she got a great big smile on her face, and she looked at Aaron and Jarom and me. Her eyes were sparkling like they do sometimes when she’s real happy. We knew then that she was glad to get those three horned toads.
She got up and gave us each a great big kiss and said, “I’ll never forget this Mother’s Day. Horned toads are the best Mother’s Day surprise I’ve ever received!”
After we’d all had a good look at the horned toads, Dad said we should take them out to the garage for a while. But Mom said it would be OK to put them on the chair by the telephone if we wouldn’t bother them while we ate.
After dinner, Mom looked at her horned toads and said, “I don’t like to see toads closed up in an old shoe box. Why don’t you boys build them a house outside where they won’t feel sad and where we can go to visit them.”
The next day after kindergarten, Aaron and Jarom and I went out in the backyard by the grapevine. We’d seen lots of horned toads there, so we knew that that was one of their favorite spots. We found a shady place where there were lots of crunchy leaves. We got some rocks and put them in a little pile under the grapevines, and that was Mom’s horned-toad house. The horned toads really liked it. As soon as we let them out of the shoe box, they waddled as fast as they could into their little rock house.
Those horned toads were our very best Mother’s Day present. And Mom said one of her favorite times of the day was when she went out to the grapevine with Aaron and Jarom and me and watched her very own horned toads.

For the past three and a half years I have had the assignment to serve as executive administrator of the Australia/New Guinea Area. Although my assignment has recently been changed and the title of executive administrator is no longer used, I shall not forget the experience I had in New Guinea as the Church was first being established there.

Viba Rome and his wife, Mauveri, and their three children live in Papua, New Guinea. About three years ago a missionary couple taught the restored gospel of Jesus Christ to them in small Two-Mile Village, just outside Port Moresby. Two young boys led the missionary couple to the Wadega hut, where they found twelve people living in one small room. Viba and Mauveri were living there with Mauveri’s family, the Wadegas. The missionaries taught them the gospel. It was well received by the entire family except for Mr. Wadega, who was reluctant to join any church.

Viba and Mauveri desired to be baptized immediately. Baptism would require them, however, to forsake some long-established traditions of their culture. Fighting, gambling, and beating their wives were traditional and acceptable pastimes for the men of the village. Betel nuts not only colored their teeth and gums a bright scarlet hue but had a narcotic effect upon those who chewed them and made them lazy and lethargic. The women also had changes to make. Attending church meetings would require them to cover their nakedness, a practice contrary to the tradition of their society. The other women of the village ridiculed them and accused them of trying to act superior to them. The traditional role of the women was to be unseen and unheard in any public gathering except when participating in the dances and singing of their culture. Attending church meetings and participating with men in worship service required a very great change in their social relationships.

Viba and Mauveri were baptized in the Coral Sea several weeks after hearing the gospel taught to them. Three weeks following their baptism I had the privilege of conferring the Aaronic Priesthood on Viba and ordaining him to the office of priest. On that day he wore his first white shirt, given to him by the missionary couple, Elder and Sister Campbell. Viba bore his testimony to the congregation of about 200—most of whom were members of less than one year. These were his stirring words:

Before I accepted the message of Jesus Christ from the missionaries, my heart was as a boiling caldron and my life was filled with fighting and abuse to my family and others. Now my heart is filled with peace and I have only love for my family and I have no desire to injure anyone.

With their acceptance of the gospel of Jesus Christ, Viba and his wife and others have had the determination and courage to break away from the false traditions of their ancestors. The superstitions and voodoo like practices have been replaced with priesthood power and true gospel service. The relationship of husband and wife as a partnership, education, self-improvement, honesty, virtue, and monogomy were all new traditions to be established in the Rome’s lives. They have the desire and faith to live close to the Lord and they have the gospel of Jesus Christ and the programs of the Church as full resources to help them establish and maintain desired traditions of excellence.

Viba has a job at a cane furniture factory and is striving to establish an independent home and the traditions of an LDS family. This is not easy for him, because leaving his traditional home has meant taking from his family and the family of his wife their source of income. In New Guinea, when one has a job, all of that person’s resources are used to support all family members living in that single dwelling.

Though Viba believes the custom of paying for his bride is not a good one, he will honor the marriage contract he made with Mauveri’s father before he received the gospel. Because of the higher value placed on female offspring, Mauveri’s value increased as each of their three daughters was born. Viba has determined that he will not carry on this tradition with his own daughters, however, even though their value would make him a very prosperous man. I think it should be noted here that Mauveri’s father delayed setting her final price for five years until he found her true worth: how many daughters she could bear.

Viba now knows the true and eternal value of his family. A little over a year after their baptism I met Viba and Mauveri again, this time in the New Zealand Temple, and had the unforgettable opportunity of performing their sealing ordinance. Their trip to the temple for that special blessing was made possible for them by their gospel brothers and sisters in Brisbane, Australia. For the first time in their lives they rode in an airplane, wore shoes, slept in beds, and ate with forks and spoons from a table set with linen and fine chinaware. They experienced for the first time cold weather and the warmth of borrowed sweaters and the unfeigned love of their brothers and sisters in the temple surroundings.

Viba and Mauveri came forth from the temple endowed with the promise of celestial blessings through their faithfulness. They go forth as the first of their people to be sealed for time and eternity. They will set the eternal traditions before their people and establish among them the true traditions of excellence.

Viba has taught the gospel to his father’s family in the village of Garibu. Today, Viba’s father is the Garibu branch president. He has expressed his great love and appreciation for his son and the joy of receiving the gospel truths through him.