Gospel Story Finder

One sister with a large family set a goal to make better use of her husband’s salary through using her imagination and talents. One way she saved money was by sewing her small children’s clothing from remnants which she obtained without charge from fabric stores. Harvest time meant lots of free produce for her family, as they obtained permission to gather fruit that fell from the trees at local orchards and processed it for their home storage.

The McDowell family moved into a house across the street nearly six months ago. They sure are different from the rest of the families in the neighborhood!
First I met Nephi, their 11-year-old son. Nephi told me his parents named him after an ancient American prophet. I’d never heard of any ancient American prophets, but he showed me a book with his name in it—a book called the Book of Mormon.
My family goes to church, and sometimes we read the Bible. But nobody in my family had ever heard of the Book of Mormon. Nephi called it a second testament of Jesus Christ and said it was an ancient record of the Lord’s dealings with people in the Americas. That was my first clue that Nephi and his family were different.
Next I met Nephi’s older sister, Glitchen. She wasn’t named for a prophet. She was named for her great-grandmother Glitchen Kelly, who was Irish. Glitchen’s great-grandmother had red hair and married a man from Poland named Alex. Glitchen knows all this because her family studies their family history.
All I know about my family is that my parents were born here in our town. I’d like to know more, but I can’t imagine spending all the time that Glitchen’s mother does researching their ancestors.
When the McDowells first moved in, the whole neighborhood changed. For one thing, it looked better. The house they moved into hadn’t been kept up very well, but not long after unloading their furniture, the McDowells set to work repairing their new home. They painted it and fixed the front gate. Then Mr. McDowell put Nephi to work in the garden plot, clearing weeds and tilling the soil.
Back then, no one in the neighborhood cared much for gardening, but Nephi said their prophet wanted them to grow a garden and be as independent as they could. At first I thought Nephi meant the same prophet he was named after—or maybe Moses or Abraham. But Nephi said he meant the living prophet, the one who leads their church today. He said their prophet is a man who speaks for God down here on earth. After all, Nephi said, the world needs a prophet today as much as people needed one in the Bible.
When I told Mom about this living prophet, she didn’t laugh like I thought she might. Instead, she sighed and said she prayed that such things were true. That evening we went into our own abandoned garden and started pulling weeds.
So Mom, Dad, and I grew our garden, and the McDowells grew theirs. In the fall, Mom and Mrs. McDowell swapped recipes, and Mrs. McDowell taught Mom how to preserve food. Then Nephi’s dad and my dad began fishing together on Saturdays and sometimes on Friday evenings—but never on Sundays. We quickly learned just what the McDowells would and would not do on Sunday.
“It’s our Sabbath,” Nephi told me. They didn’t fish or go shopping or do anything but spend family time together and do church stuff. I felt really sorry for Nephi and Glitchen, but they didn’t seem to mind, even when I heard Nephi’s stomach growling one Sunday when he’d been fasting all day.
Now, believe it or not, after all I’ve seen of the McDowells, I like them. Maybe it’s because they laugh a lot and seem to have fun. Or maybe it’s because Nephi helped our soccer team win a few games. Or maybe it’s because I just feel good when I’m with them.
Tonight after dinner, the McDowells are bringing over some missionaries to tell my parents and me more about their church. Mom has cleaned the house and baked a cake, and Nephi and Glitchen are bringing a Book of Mormon just for me.
I’ll soon know all about Nephi the prophet and about family history stuff and gardens and the Sabbath day, plus a whole lot more. I’ll even learn what it means to be different, like the McDowells. I think sometimes different is good.

I first met Latter-day Saint missionaries at a train station when I was 19. I could tell that there was something special about these young women, and I felt an urge to talk to them. So I approached and asked what they were doing in Taiwan. They told me they were missionaries and began to talk about the gospel. Over the course of several meetings, I learned about Jesus Christ, His restored gospel, and the Book of Mormon. It was the last of these topics—the Book of Mormon—that caused me to join the Church.

Bishop Ochieng and his wife had a friend who moved away from their neighborhood, but his wife knew where she now lived. The Ochiengs decided to “do something merciful” and visit her and also see how she was doing. They found her in a predicament with rent due and only KSh40 for the whole week. They gave her a little. She wept and the Ochiengs wept with her, because she didn’t know they were doing the 25 ways in 25 days program.

The next day I was to sing at our family reunion. I knew that my mother was going to be there. I wanted to make her proud. After dinner, they announced that I was to sing. I remember being so nervous and turning my head to find my mother looking at me, giving me that certain look of encouragement that I needed.
As I was singing, my throat tightened, and I felt as if my vocal chords had just tied in a knot. It was so hard to sing. I looked at my mom, and I’ll never forget her smile and the nod she gave me. I remember thinking that was better than any command performance I had ever dreamed about. After singing, I sat down beside her and she reached under the table and held my hand.
I’ve learned so much from my mother about being a parent and a friend. Because we took the time to communicate and bridge that gap in our relationship, my mother is my best friend. I’m ready for anything, knowing that my mother is always going to be there for me.
A note from Dianne Francis, Suzanne’s mother: Suzanne wrote this to help other young people see they miss out if they don’t have a close relationship with their mom and dad. Talking helped us realize we were best friends, that we loved each other and enjoyed being together. This knowledge is particularly meaningful to me now, since Suzanne was killed in an automobile accident a few weeks after she wrote this.

She seemed to know instinctively that selfishness never led to happiness. I remember one summer being eager to give a birthday present to a young boy whom I babysat regularly. My mother didn’t give me a lecture on resources. Instead, we walked down to Main Street, where she purchased thirty-five cents’ worth of white broadcloth.
I helped tend my little brother as I watched her cut out a shirt with sleeves, interfacings, and a collar. After she carefully sewed the shirt together, she put on buttons from a worn-out shirt and made carefully hand-stitched buttonholes. The process seemed to take forever, but the new shirt was pressed and wrapped in time for the birthday, I remember the wonderful feeling I had as I presented the gift to the young neighbor. My mother’s gift to me was her time and effort and her support of my own desire to give.

There is an old Jewish tale about a soap maker who did not believe in God. One day as he was walking with a rabbi, he said, “There is something I cannot understand. We have had religion for thousands of years. But everywhere you look there is evil, corruption, dishonesty, injustice, pain, hunger, and violence. It appears that religion has not improved the world at all. So I ask you, what good is it?”
The rabbi did not answer for a time but continued walking with the soap maker. Eventually they approached a playground where children, covered in dust, were playing in the dirt.
“There is something I don’t understand,” the rabbi said. “Look at those children. We have had soap for thousands of years, and yet those children are filthy. What good is soap?”
The soap maker replied, “But rabbi, it isn’t fair to blame soap for these dirty children. Soap has to be used before it can accomplish its purpose.”
The rabbi smiled and said, “Exactly.”

They all came to Utah and settled in Tooele County. They were just getting settled and making things go when they were called by President Brigham Young to St. George, and they went, like all good Latter-day Saints did in those days. But they had not been in St. George very long when they were called to settle in Meadow Valley. That is a place you folks probably have not heard about. It is now known as Panaca, in what they thought was southwestern Utah, but which actually later came to be Nevada. These people, obeying the call, again without question, were the first family to move to Meadow Valley, and they made a dugout house. Sister Young said that you may not know what a dugout house is. I replied that most of the folks would know: One digs a cubical hole in a hillside and covers it with a roof of wooden poles topped with clay.
Troubles of the few settlers with the Indians caused the authorities in St. George to give them permission to abandon the project, but Sister Jane Johnson Lee refused to leave. She said she was there to stay, and stay they did. Later two Indians came into her dugout home, and one of them, seeing a rifle in one corner of the room, demanded it. Sister Lee refused to give it to him. He started for the gun, but she struck him so hard with a piece of stove wood, it knocked him down. He staggered to his feet and drew his bow, aiming the arrow at her. She let him have another piece of wood, which smashed the bow and arrow. Both Indians departed.

One day I was preparing to give a talk in sacrament meeting. I was studying the article “The Atonement of Jesus Christ” by Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles in the March 2008 Liahona. In his article, Elder Holland relates a dream Elder Orson F. Whitney (1855–1931) had in which he saw the Savior in the Garden of Gethsemane. Elder Whitney described the pain and suffering he saw the Savior bear. Then he wrote:
“Presently He arose and walked to where [the] Apostles were kneeling—fast asleep! He shook them gently, awoke them, and in a tone of tender reproach, untinctured by the least show of anger or scolding, asked them if they could not watch with Him one hour. …
“Returning to His place, He prayed again and then went back and found them again sleeping. Again He awoke them, admonished them, and returned and prayed as before. Three times this happened.”1
As I read this, the spirit of revelation entered my mind. In that instant, I realized that the way I could “watch with Him one hour” was in the way I approached sacrament meeting each Sunday. Since then, I have learned that this is an hour in which we can pray to our Heavenly Father in a more meaningful way. Prayer is fundamental at all times, but the Spirit present in that hour of the sacrament is an opportunity to elevate ourselves closer to Heavenly Father and our Savior, Jesus Christ. When we focus our thoughts on the Lord, it is, in a way, accompanying Him at the moment of the agony He endured when taking upon Himself our sins. It is a time to acknowledge the pain He suffered for us.
Sacrament meeting means everything to me. For me it is the hour of infinite salvation. It has become a sacred time in which I remember and commit in prayer and in spirit to honor my covenants and to follow the perfect example of my Savior. I know that He lives and loves me. I know that it is only through His sacrifice and His precious blood that was spilt that we can all be saved. I know this is true because as I have worked at “watching with Him,” my understanding has been enlightened, my life has been blessed, and my vision of eternal life in His presence has been deepened.

Sometimes sitting in Valiant B class is about as interesting as washing woodwork for Mom. But last Sunday was a real surprise. In a way, I guess I was responsible. It all began before class started, when I put my gum on a piece of paper on my chair and went out into the hall to get a drink.
While I was still out in the hall, I heard this awful howl coming from the classroom. I raced back just in time to see Eileen Cameron pulling strings of gum off her dress.
“Who put that gum there?” demanded Sister Higgins.
The guys looked at me as I started backing out into the hall.
“Mark!” Her voice carried a warning.
Reluctantly I turned around. “It was an accident, Sister Higgins. Honest. I just put it there a minute while I went for a drink.”
“I see,” she said, unconvinced. “We’ll talk about it after class. Eileen, you may go to the rest room to see what you can do about removing that gum. The rest of you settle down so we can start.”
We tried to settle down, but it was difficult. Sister Higgins had her eye on me and the other boys. Finally she made us sit boy-girl-boy-girl so we wouldn’t giggle anymore.
“Mark,” Sister Higgins began again when the class had quieted down, “I want you to offer the opening prayer. And please ask Heavenly Father to help all of us to be reverent today.”
The prayer was going OK until I tried to say reverent. I just couldn’t seem to say it right. Someone giggled, and I ended with a quick amen and sat down fast.
I could tell that Sister Higgins wasn’t pleased with me. She pulled out some pictures and told us several stories about faith and about how you need to have faith when you pray. She had us write “Faith without works is dead” on a piece of paper, then split us into groups to make up skits showing how faith helps prayers to be answered.
Those skits were really fun! I guess we laughed every other minute. And even though Sister Higgins gave me a lecture after class, the lesson on faith was one we all enjoyed.
When I got home, my dog, Stubbs, started jumping all over me. I knew Mom would be mad if I got my Sunday clothes dirty, so I told him to quit it. I’d just changed out of my church clothes and started to play with him, when Mom called. She was giving everyone jobs to help get dinner ready. My job was to make the fruit salad, which was fun.
After dinner, I thought about Sister Higgins’s lesson. I couldn’t figure out if I really had faith or not. Last Christmas I’d prayed for a bike, but I didn’t get it. Maybe I just hadn’t exercised enough faith. So I decided I’d try again. I wasn’t doing very well in math, and I wondered if faith would help me get better grades. I decided to pray for a score of one hundred on my math quiz the next day.
Then I went outside and rolled in the grass with Stubbs. He was the craziest dog I had ever known. He’d had us all in stitches last family night when he kept hiding behind Dad’s chair and popping out to bark every time someone got up to do his part.
The next day at school, when I received a score of only seventy-two on my math quiz, I knew that I must not have enough faith. I decided that faith must be something only grown-ups have.
Just a couple of days later Stubbs and I were playing ball. I cracked a good one with my bat, and the ball sailed over the fence. Old Stubbs bounded through the open gate after the ball.
Suddenly I heard car brakes screeching and a yelp from Stubbs. I shot through the gate like lightning just in time to see a man getting out of his car. Stubbs was lying still in the street.
“Stubbs!” I cried. I ran over to him and felt sick to my stomach when I saw the blood.
“I’m sorry,” said the motorist. “I tried to stop. Have you a blanket? I’ll be glad to take you and your dog to a veterinarian.”
I nodded and ran home, sobbing and yelling “Mom” all at the same time. She grabbed a blanket and ran outside right behind me.
We put Stubbs on the blanket and carefully carried him to the man’s car. While we rode to the animal hospital, I gently stroked Stubb’s head.
It seemed like hours later when the doctor finally came out and told us that Stubbs was still alive. He had stitched him up, but Stubbs had lost a lot of blood.
“Can I take him home?” I asked. I was really scared that if I left the animal hospital without him, I’d never see him again.
The veterinarian talked to Mom a minute, then disappeared and came back carrying Stubbs, who lay very still in his arms. “You take good care of him, and call me if there’s any change.”
That night I told Dad that I wanted to sleep next to Stubbs and take care of him during the night. I filled Stubbs’s bowl with water, in case he woke up and was thirsty. Then I got a blanket and lay down next to him.
Dad came to say good night, and then he said gently, “Mark, Stubbs is pretty sick. I want you to prepare yourself in case he doesn’t make it.”
“Dad, can we please say a prayer.”
“Of course, Mark. We can pray and exercise our faith in Heavenly Father’s goodness and in His ability to heal Stubbs.”
“Dad, … how do we do it? I’m not sure I have any faith to exercise.”
He put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Mark, we exercise our faith by believing that God loves us. We tell Him our problems, then have faith that whatever happens is really for the best.”
“You just let Him decide?” I asked. It didn’t seem quite enough.
“Well,” Dad answered, “we have to do our part. We have to do everything possible to help.” Dad gave me a kiss and then put his arm around me as he said a prayer for Stubbs.
I squeezed my eyes shut and pleaded with God to help Stubbs get better.
After Dad left, I thought about what he’d said concerning faith. I wished I’d listened better to Sister Higgins’s lesson. I needed to know all I could about faith, because Stubbs needed all the help I could give. I did remember writing “Faith without works is dead” on my paper in Primary. So I thought about that each time I patted Stubbs and checked to see if he’d changed at all. Maybe if I did the “works” part really well, it might make up for the faith part a little.
I spent the night checking Stubbs—talking quietly into his ear, patting him, and praying over and over.
The next thing I knew, I was opening my eyes to the morning sun. My hand was holding Stubb’s paw. I squeezed my eyes closed one more time and pleaded with Heavenly Father to please help Stubbs get better. That was when I felt something wet on my fingers. I raised up and stared at Stubbs. One eye looked up at me, and his tongue licked my hand again.
“Dad! Mom!” I yelled. I didn’t care if it was 6:00 A.M. “Stubbs is better!”
I think now that I must have had beginner’s faith—you know, like beginner’s luck, when you first learn how to do something. Heavenly Father must have helped Stubbs get better. Maybe I helped a little too. The veterinarian said that I had a miracle dog.
The next Sunday in Primary I wanted to listen to Sister Higgins’s lesson, in case she had something else to say about faith. When she asked for a volunteer to say the prayer, I raised my hand. I prayed real hard that we’d all be reverent, and I even said it right. And when some of the guys started messing around, I figured my prayer of faith needed some works to go with it. So I stood up and told them to pipe down because I wanted to hear the lesson. I told them about Stubbs and said they’d better listen to the lesson, too, in case they ever needed some faith. They listened.

May I share a personal missionary experience? Shortly after we arrived in Toronto we were preparing the children to enroll in their schools. My five-year-old son was to start kindergarten, but on the first day he was afraid to go. My wife and I were concerned, and I was impressed to invite my son to come into my office and sit in what the missionaries call the “hot seat,” and we would have an interview.

He climbed up into the big black chair, and I asked, “Son, how can I help you?”

I shall never forget as long as I live the look of real concern on his face. With his little chin quivering, he said, “Daddy, I am afraid.”

I understood, for I knew he had left behind several friends of his same age, and so far he had found no one his age near the mission home. I said, “Craig, you have a friend that will always be with you. Let’s kneel down together and ask Him to help you.” We did, and Craig assigned me to say the prayer.

The Lord helped Craig find his courage in this experience. Every morning thereafter we held our interview, and every morning I was assigned to pray.

Then one morning, about two weeks later, there came no knock at my office door—no special father-and-son prayer. He had found his confidence and made some friends, and I was the one that missed that very special experience each morning with my little boy. I hope that this choice learning experience while on this mission will remain with Craig and become a source of strength to him when he is called to serve the Lord on a mission of his own.

“We didn’t have many modern conveniences. We had kerosene lamps, and rest room facilities were about fifty paces from the back door. In back of the house was a cellar where Mother stored all her canned fruits and vegetables. We had a vegetable garden, a berry patch, and fruit trees.
“I remember that my father once said to me, ‘You know, it would help if you weeded the garden.’ I thought I would surprise him and do it, but I hoed down all of the potatoes he had planted, thinking they were weeds! That was about the extent of that.”

One cold dark night Bob Ackerman sat dozing in his chair beside a cozy fire. Suddenly he heard a clip-clop outside and a knock on his door. There stood a shivering handsome stranger.
“Come in,” said Bob, “and kneel by my hearth and warm yourself.” Quick as a flash, the stranger did so.
“Where are you heading on such a night?” asked Bob.
“It is no secret,” replied the stranger. “An old legend was told to me yeaterday, and I am going to ski north to a spot high in the mountains of China where I shall find magic snails.” Then without stopping to even say goodbye, the stranger lunged out the door and was gone.
“What a strange fellow!” exclaimed Bob. “He was a bit too thin and quite thankless. I wonder if he were really here at all. Perhaps I have only been dreaming!”

There are many ways bishops and quorum members can help to relieve the suffering and anxiety of the unemployed. Phil’s Auto of Centerville, Utah, is a testament of what priesthood leadership and a quorum can accomplish. Phil was a member of an elders quorum and worked as a mechanic at a local automobile repair shop. Unfortunately, the repair shop where Phil worked experienced economic trouble and had to let Phil go from his job. He was devastated by this turn of events.

On hearing about Phil’s job loss, his bishop, Leon Olson, and his elders quorum presidency prayerfully considered ways they could help Phil get back on his feet. After all, he was a fellow quorum member, a brother, and he needed help. They concluded that Phil had the skills to run his own business. One of the quorum members offered that he had an old barn that perhaps could be used as a repair shop. Other quorum members could help gather needed tools and supplies to equip the new shop. Almost everyone in the quorum could at least help clean the old barn.

They shared their ideas with Phil; then they shared their plan with the members of their quorum. The barn was cleaned and renovated, the tools gathered, and all was put in order. Phil’s Auto was a success and eventually moved to better and more permanent quarters—all because his quorum brothers offered help in a time of crisis. Priesthood quorums can and must make a difference.

As a freshman in high school, Jacqueline C., from Indiana, USA, was asked to design costumes for all 25 members of her school’s play. The play was set in the late 1800s in the southern United States, so designing costumes that fit the time and place was not an easy task.
Jacqueline started by reading books about costume design, researching the time period, and looking at lots of pictures. She also spent time talking with the director about how each character should be portrayed.
After all her research, Jacqueline designed the costumes, and she made sure all the actors looked their part. “There are two characters in the play that are complete opposites,” Jacqueline says. “Their actions showed that they were opposites, and I made sure their costumes did too.”
When actors are dressed appropriately for their character, it adds a lot to the play. “Their costumes pull the whole show together and give it a polished look,” Jacqueline explains. As a costume designer, Jacqueline knows the importance of actors’ looking their part, and as a Latter-day Saint, she knows the importance of our looking our part too. “The first impression the world has of us is based on how we look,” she says.

This story happened in Denmark.
Amalie followed her parents through the church doors. The sound of the piano playing hymns filled the chapel. Amalie and her family found a bench and sat down.
Sacrament meeting started, and soon the whole branch was singing the opening hymn. While she sang, Amalie noticed their next-door neighbor, Sister Aisha, sitting nearby. But Sister Aisha wasn’t singing. She was frowning.
Sister Aisha was always so nice to Amalie. But she looked sad a lot. Amalie knew that she lived alone. Maybe she was lonely.
Amalie wished she could do something to help. But what?
The next week, Amalie went on a bike ride down a long road. She rode past big green fields. The sun warmed her skin.
Soon she came to a field of sunflowers. The bright yellow flowers waved slightly in the wind and stretched to the sun. They were so tall and so big!
A sign next to the field said, Free sunflowers! Take as many as you want.
Amalie stared at the field. The flowers looked like an ocean of yellow smiling at the sky.
She parked her bike and picked a bunch of flowers. She could give them to Mom! Mom loved flowers. But there were enough flowers that she could pick more for someone else too.
A name came to her mind: Sister Aisha. Maybe these flowers could help brighten her day.
“I hope she likes sunflowers,” Amalie said quietly to herself. But she was a little nervous. What if Sister Aisha thought it was weird?
Amalie stopped picking the flowers. She rubbed the soft petals between her fingers. Maybe she shouldn’t give flowers to Sister Aisha.
No, Amalie thought. She knew she should give them to Sister Aisha. They might not make everything better. But Amalie still wanted to help, even in a small way. She could give the flowers to Sister Aisha at church tomorrow.
Amalie spent a long time picking the best flowers. She put them together and placed them carefully in her bike basket. Then she hopped on her bike and rode home. The bright yellow of the flowers looked pretty with the deep green of the forest in the background.
When Amalie got home, she tied each bouquet with a ribbon. She gave one to Mom.
Mom smiled big when she saw it. “Thank you! They’re beautiful.” She put the flowers in a vase on the table.
The next day, Amalie took the other bouquet of sunflowers to church. She found Sister Aisha sitting alone on a bench.
“Hi,” Amalie said. “I picked some sunflowers for you.”
Amalie held the flowers out. When Sister Aisha saw them, she smiled. Amalie hadn’t seen her smile in a long time. Her eyes were filled with light.
“Thank you,” Sister Aisha said. She gave Amalie a hug. “These are my favorite flowers.”
Amalie smiled too. She hadn’t known they were Sister Aisha’s favorite flowers! But the Holy Ghost had prompted her to make a bouquet for Sister Aisha, and Amalie was grateful she had listened.

One sister was confused when her bishop unexpectedly asked her to consider serving a mission. At age 24, she had graduated from college and had been offered a graduate scholarship at another university. She was beyond the age when sisters usually serve a full-time mission and was hoping to continue her education.

But as she considered her options, a feeling grew within her that the Lord wanted her to serve. She decided to add to the counsel of her bishop that of her stake president. Her interview with him removed any lingering doubts. Others might have received a different answer, but this, she felt, was hers. She expressed a desire to serve a full-time mission.

“At that moment,” she recalls, “I was nearly overwhelmed with the impression that, if I died at that moment, I could face my Savior sure of his approval. I was doing what he wanted me to do. I’ve never forgotten the peace and assurance that came from him like a benediction.”

“The toughest part about learning the bagpipes was sticking it out,” says Austin, who has been playing for four years. Tyler Abeyta, a former Nauvoo band member currently serving a mission in Sacramento, California, agrees. “I was 13, and after a month of trying to learn the bagpipes, I quit. My good friend was also taking lessons, and he encouraged me to start again. I knew with all my heart if I were to even come close to learning the pipes, I would need the help of my Heavenly Father. So I kneeled down one night. I asked Him for His help and His blessing to be upon me as I continued to learn. When I started again, I definitely knew that the Spirit was with me and helped me along the way.”

We found Athens hot and humid when our group arrived there. Without air conditioning, the bus trip left us tired and bedraggled. But it didn’t take long before the light-hearted quips and personal concern of the young people had the rest of us forgetting our discomfort. It was Carolyn who decided we needed some singing, and Virnell, Shelley, Bonnie, and Diane soon joined in.
As usual, Melvin was the first to help with the luggage when we reached our hotel, checking the number of pieces and helping the ladies with their heavier bags.
“How do you control them?” the lady had asked.
It was just past noon when we returned from a spectacular tour of the Acropolis and Mars’ hill where Paul preached to the Athenians. The young people had assisted their not-so-young associates along the rugged terrain among the ancient ruins, not only giving their physical strength, but sharing their excitement and wonder as well. When we returned to the hotel, we were stunned by the news that Greece was at war with Turkey. Cyprus had been invaded by Turkish troops. All of the Greek men between the ages of 18 and 45 were to be mobilized within the next few hours. Suddenly the streets were filled with people. Young men carried small tote bags; neighbors gathered for brief farewells; a woman stood in her doorway weeping as she saw the men leave. She told us her children were too young to go, but she had five brothers who would have to fight.
This was not just a disruption of the afternoon-scheduled tour to Corinth. This was not just the temporary inconvenience of having no other bus at our disposal. Greece was at war! Greece’s borders were sealed. Her harbors were closed. Her airports were shut off. No commercial transportation was allowed in or out of the country. With the shortage of help in the hotel, we were informed that we would receive no further clean linen, there would be no room service, and the waiters from the dining room were gone. Making our own beds would be no problem. Hanging our towels to dry was no inconvenience. But what kind of chaos would the dining room be in without anyone there to help?
Dinner time arrived, and we walked into the dining room. To our delight there seemed to be plenty of help. John seated me at our table, and Jerome filled our water glasses. Carolyn was serving the rolls to other hotel guests, while Virnell followed up with butter. Bonnie was laughing and joking with some of the tourists as she and Diane served them cool beverages. Shelly was clearing dirty dishes from the tables and refilling glasses with ice. Melvin did anything that might have been overlooked—clearing tables, bringing a salad where one was forgotten, or resetting tables for the next group. They had not been asked; they had volunteered. For the duration of our stay in Athens, their service made the dinner hour something to look forward to.
With the tension of the war mounting, rumors of a military coup circulated throughout the city. Tanks were brought in, and armed police platoons became numerous on the streets. The U.S. Embassy warned us to remain in our hotel until further notice. Thus confined, we were threatened with boredom. But again our young people came to the rescue; they would have nothing to do with boredom. At our sacrament meetings our priests, Melvin and Jerome, prepared the sacrament and were assisted by John in passing it. Virnell and Carolyn served as chorister and organist. By recalling our experiences of the previous week in the Holy Land, our sacrament hymns were even more meaningful to each of us. We followed the admonition that “the song of the righteous is a prayer unto me.” (D&C 25:12.)
In the days that followed, the strain of being in war-inflicted Greece, our evacuation from Athens, and many long delays between planes were all made lighter by the humorous good nature and thoughtful consideration of the young travelers in our group. The lives of all those who traveled with them were made richer by their influence. Our LDS youth serve as an ensign, proclaiming the spirit of the gospel to all the world.

We were born in Ghana, Africa, and have lived in Tamale for all our lives. We are now a family of four. Abraham is our husband and father, and I, Elizabeth, am his wife, and the mother of our children who are Favor, age 6 and Savior, age 3. We are the Apalekiyas!
We are members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We were both baptized on the same day in November of 2015. We were among the very first few members of the Church here in Tamale. Some refer to us as “member pioneers”. We are proud to be pioneers here in Tamale and to now be “old in the church”.
My husband, Abraham, and myself were born and grew up in a village here in the Northern District of Ghana. We each grew up without strong family ties and Abraham mostly roamed and raised himself in the bush. While on his own, Abraham learned many skills and developed plenty of ways to support himself. He also made many friends who love him and appreciate his kind ways and happy smile. I never had the opportunity of going to school, not even to grade one. When grown up enough, I found myself down in Accra working for a white lady keeping house and cooking; I learned much from her. After a time, I returned to Tamale and that is when I met Abraham. We decided to marry, and we quickly settled down into married life. It was not easy being newly married and living in Tamale, a hard place! After our first year of marriage the Lord blessed us with our first born, our daughter Favor. We felt SOOO favored of the Lord, and so we named her Favor. Three years later, Savior our son, joined the family. Once again, we were very blessed by God and our Savior and so we named our son Savior. We were so thankful to have him after he was delivered cesarean section because of some concern on the part of the doctors. We thank God!
The year 2014 was the year when the missionaries found us and taught us about the Church. We enjoyed learning even though we spoke no English. The Spirit testified to us both that the Church was true!
Our membership in the Church has blessed our lives so much. When we first joined the Church we could not understand, speak, or read English. We would come to church each week and we enjoyed being there, even though we did not understand English. The branch president would invite us into his office after church was over and explain to us the teachings. We were nurtured by the leaders and other Church members.
Soon we were introduced to the Church’s literacy program. The senior missionary couples were our teachers. I especially wanted to learn to read, to write, and to speak English so that I could do God’s work and also teach my family. Through the Gospel Literacy program, we can now understand, speak, read, and write English. I do not know what we would do without the couples who contributed so much to our learning, serving as our teachers, and helping us to develop self-reliance skills. Our couples were Elder and Sister Brinks, Elder and Sister Renfroe, and Elder and Sister Wight. Without these couples we would not have been able to accomplish so much, but with their help and with God’s power, we are better now!
We love serving in our branch where Abraham is the elders quorum president and I am the Relief Society president. I can give lessons now and read from the scriptures.
We love holding family home evenings with our children. We are learning from the Come, Follow Me manual and we also pray together. I read scriptures stories to them from the Book of Mormon and the Bible.
We are so happy that our family is sealed together in the temple. It made my heart happy when I read, on the outside of the temple, those holy words! When I went inside, I thought, “This is a small heaven”. I loved it!
Ministering is a big part of what we do as members. We visit and support our other members. We have many members of our branch now. They are coming!
God has blessed us too much! We are so happy to be members of the Church and as we look back at our lives and how they have changed and been blessed because of our membership in the Church, we are so grateful. Our progress has been small but now we have strong testimonies and we will never leave the Church, not ever! If you ever come to Tamale, we hope that you will visit our branch.