Gospel Story Finder

Elder Andersen explained how he felt when he was called to The Quorum of The Twelve Apostles. He said when he first sat in the seat that Elder Ulisses Soares now occupies, he looked up the row at the other 11 Apostles and the First Presidency, and feelings of personal inadequacy overwhelmed him. When I heard Elder Andersen say that, I sat up straight in my chair because I knew that what he had just said—and what he was going to say next—was specifically for me.
Elder Andersen said he struggled with this issue for a while and then it came: He heard the voice of the Lord say, “Neil, you did not put yourself there. I did, because I love you, and I know you can change, and I know you can help with my work.”

“Come on, Sarah!” Kim called as she ran up the stairs. “I want to show you the new books I got for my birthday!”
“I can’t wait!” Sarah said, following close behind.
The girls sat on the bed in Kim’s room and pulled out the books. “You’ll love this one,” Kim said, passing Sarah a book with a dragon and a beautiful princess on the cover.
The girls read stories together until Kim’s mom said it was homework time. The girls agreed that the fun always seemed to end too soon.
The next day at school, Sarah and Kim sat down in the cafeteria for lunch. They were talking about Kim’s new books when three boys from the next grade walked by. One of them said something about Sarah’s glasses and laughed. Everyone around them laughed too. Sarah’s cheeks flushed pink. She looked over and saw Kim laughing too.
“Why are you laughing?” Sarah whispered, looking at Kim in surprise.
“Oh, they’re just teasing,” Kim said. “Don’t worry about it.”
On the way home from school, Sarah and Kim walked together as usual. But Sarah kept her head down.
“What’s the matter?” Kim asked.
“Well,” Sarah said, hesitating, “I don’t understand why, when it’s just us, you’re such a good friend. But at school, when that boy said those mean things, you laughed.”
“I didn’t really think it was funny,” Kim said. “I just laughed because everyone else was laughing.”
The girls finished their walk home in silence. Kim didn’t understand why Sarah was so upset.
Later that night, Kim thought of Sarah. She tried to imagine the kids at school laughing at her the way they had laughed at Sarah. Maybe they would laugh at her hair one day, or maybe they would laugh at the shirt she was wearing. Having Sarah laugh with them wouldn’t feel so good.
The next morning, Kim waited outside for Sarah. When Sarah came out of her house, Kim waved. “Hey, Sarah!” she said. “I’m sorry I laughed yesterday. I should have been a better friend. I won’t do that again, I promise.”
Sarah smiled. “Thanks,” she said.
At lunch, the girls were sitting together again when the boy who had teased Sarah walked over. He said the same thing and laughed again. This time, instead of laughing, Kim looked at him and said, “I think Sarah looks great in her glasses. I might even get a pair myself.”
The boy looked around. No one else was laughing with him this time, so he walked away.
Sarah smiled at Kim. “Thanks for doing that,” she said. “You really are a true friend.”

Another Cooper family tradition: At least once a week everyone tries to do something nice for another family member as a surprise.
Thanks for making my bed! You know how much I hate doing that.
You’re welcome. It needed to be done, and you weren’t here, so …
Hmmm. Nobody’s done anything special for me yet, and the week’s almost over.
Later that morning …
Somebody pumped up my bike tire for me!
Now you know where I was while you were making my bed.

Illustration by iStock/Thinkstock
I had just returned from school. I’d gotten into an argument with one of my best friends from church, and it had really got me down.
As usual, I sat down to read my email. I saw one from her and opened it. I scanned the text carefully. The hurtful words covered me like a wave. The tears streamed down my face as I read to the end. My heart felt like it had been blown apart.
I quickly created a new email to her and started to type, but then something told me to stop. I knew it was the Holy Ghost. I backed away from the computer. In my head I asked, “Why do I need to stop? I need to tell her how I feel.” Then came the words, “All right. Tell her how you really feel.” I quickly moved toward the computer again.
I paused to analyze the Spirit’s words. Though they had been almost exactly my own words, they made me ponder. I wondered, “How do I really feel?” Immediately the words betrayed, broken, and hurt came to mind. Again a voice said, “Tell her how you really feel.” True, I felt those things, but I wouldn’t want to hurt her like she hurt me. We were friends, weren’t we? I realized that what I really felt was love.
My anger and sadness still surrounded me, but I decided to trust the Lord. I deleted the words I had written and started listing things I loved about her. As I did, my negative emotions completely left me. I found myself making a list so long that it took multiple scrolls to get through it. When I finally hit Send, I let out a sigh. I felt like my heart had been cleansed of pain and grief. I knew that my Savior had taken away my pain and filled my soul with Christlike love.
A couple of days later I received a response from my friend. She explained that at first she had been too shocked to respond. As soon as she had seen the list, she started reading it, expecting it to be a list of insults. When she found that they were compliments, she was blown away with disbelief.
I learned that when you make someone else feel better, it makes you feel better. Never underestimate the power of God. It deeply affected my life at that moment. I’ll never forget my pause to question and listen and how it has benefited my life.

Tears came to my eyes when I read of a mere boy in one of our eastern cities who noticed a vagrant asleep on a sidewalk and who then went to his own bedroom, retrieved his own pillow, and placed it beneath the head of that one whom he knew not. Perhaps there came from the precious past the welcome words: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me” (Matt. 25:40).

A nine-year-old boy wandered, lost and stumbling in the dark. Around him in the freezing night, the trees and mountains made black shapes against the dark sky. Then the boy heard voices—real voices—calling his name. Frightened, he kept silent.
Nearby, Tad Jessop led his rescue team in the search pattern they had practiced so often. Tad had been called out of a Sunday evening fireside by one of his officers in the Arapahoe Rescue Patrol. Now, he and his team moved through the rough terrain in an organized search, guided by their flashlights and by each other’s voices.
As the search dragged on into the next morning, fatigue and cold began to numb the team members. Still, no young voice answered their shouts. Not until several hours later did the radio announce the news that the lost boy had found a road, where he was spotted by a ranger. While Tad and his team wearily made their way back home, the boy was joyfully reunited with his parents, then taken to the hospital for a checkup.

You can see the shock when you remember having seen that problem before. Why, that rowboat has been in the water for generations. You might think that you’ll say, “Well, I’ll make my children feel better by showing them that I can’t do math either.” Let me give you some advice: they will see that as a poor gift.
There is a better gift, but it will take effort now. My dad, when he was a boy, must have tackled the rowboat problem, and lots of others. That was part of the equipment he needed to become a scientist who made a difference to chemistry. But he also made a difference to me. Our family room didn’t look as elegant as some. It had one kind of furniture, chairs, and one wall decoration, a green chalkboard. I came to the age your boy or girl will reach. I didn’t wonder if I could work the math problems; I’d proved to my satisfaction I couldn’t. Some of my teachers were satisfied that was true, too.
But Dad wasn’t satisfied. He thought I could. So we took turns at that chalkboard. I can’t remember the gifts my dad wrapped and helped put under a tree. But I remember the chalkboard and his quiet voice and even his not-so-quiet voice as he built up my mathematics, and me. It took more than knowing what I needed and caring. It took more than being willing to give his time then, precious as it was. It took time earlier when he had the chances you have. Because he spent it then, he and I had that time at the green board. And because he gave me that, I’ve got a boy this year who has let me sit down with him. We’ve rowed that same boat up and down. And his teacher wrote “much improved” on a report card. But I’ll tell you what’s improved most: the feelings of a fine boy about himself. Nothing I will put under the tree for Stuart this year has half the chance to become a family heirloom that his pride of accomplishment does.
Now I see some art, or are they music, majors smiling. You’re thinking: he surely can’t convince me there’s a gift hidden in my unfinished assignments. Let me try. Last week I went to an Eagle Scout court of honor. I’ve been to dozens. But this one had something I won’t forget. Before the Eagle badge was given there was a slide and sound show. The lights went down, and I recognized two voices on the tape. One was a famous singer in the background, and the other, the narrator, was the dad of the new Eagle Scout. The slides were of eagles soaring, and of mountains, and of moon landings. Maybe the Eagle Scout didn’t have a lump in his throat quite the size of mine. But he’ll remember the gift. The dad must have spent hours preparing slides, writing words that soared, and then somehow getting music and words at the right volume and at the right moment. You may have a boy someday, with all his cousins and aunts and uncles in a room looking on. And with your whole heart, you’ll want to tell him what he is and what he can be. Whether you give that gift then depends on whether you feel his heart now, and are touched, and start building the creative skills you’ll need. What it will mean in his life will make it worthwhile. I promise you.

Sister Burton: Knowing and living our purpose unites us across cultures. I met a woman in Uruguay last year who told me how she had been called to be Relief Society president at the darkest time of her life. She was tempted to say, “I can’t do it right now.” But because she had made sacred covenants, she said, “I will do what I’ve been asked to do. I have faith in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. I know through His Atonement I can do it.” Then she said to me, “My calling brought light into my life as I served my sisters. I relied upon the Lord, and He blessed me.”
I recognized the purpose of Relief Society in her story. Her faith in Heavenly Father and in Jesus Christ and His Atonement helped her. She had made sacred covenants and wanted to keep them. As she worked in unity with the bishop, she fulfilled her calling. Now she has a testimony that the Lord blesses us when we trust Him. I add my testimony to hers that our Savior Jesus Christ will help us through every mortal challenge and everything that seems unfair in this life.

When I am asked to give a priesthood blessing and wonder if it can really make a difference, I remember the miracle that occurred when I gave a blessing to a nonmember business-school classmate who had been diagnosed with lymphoma. She was faithfully willing to receive a priesthood blessing and learned at her next doctor’s appointment that there must have been a misdiagnosis because the cancer was completely gone.

May I conclude by telling you about a man I knew who grew up with love for the Church. But when he became involved in his business career, obsessed with ambition, he began in effect to deny the faith. The manner of his living became almost a repudiation of his loyalty. Then fortunately, before he had gone too far, he heard the whisperings of the still, small voice. There came a saving sense of remorse. He turned around, and today he stands as the president of a great stake of Zion, while also serving as a senior officer in one of the leading industrial corporations of the nation and of the world.

I was only three years old and did not want to leave the hospital, where my parents were recuperating after the car accident.
Photograph courtesy of the author; photograph corners form Getty Images
I struggled for many years with trauma and anxiety associated with a car accident that my parents and I were involved in when I was three. My unborn brother did not survive.
On the 25th anniversary of the accident, I had a flashback. Several months later, I was still struggling when a friend suggested that I turn to my Heavenly Father. I laughed and then asked, “What is He going to do for me?”
My struggles continued. After another year or two, I was tired of hurting and my pain was turning to anger. I took my friend’s advice and began to turn to God.
“If You are really there, send someone—anyone,” I prayed. “I need someone!”
The day came and went as I stood in my doorway, waiting in vain.
“See, God, nobody cares!” I said. “Nobody came!”
As tears rolled down my face, I slowly entered the house and shut the door. I walked up the stairs feeling defeated. But when I reached the top of the stairs, a powerful feeling came over me. It was so strong that it dropped me to my knees.
Then this thought came into my mind: “ReNae, I have been carrying you.”
Heavenly Father sent that powerful thought to me in a tender way when I needed it most. I realized that He does love me and that He does know me. He loves me so much that He has given me moral agency. He will not force me or anyone else to follow Him, but He and His Son invite us to come unto Them (see Matthew 11:28–30).
Since that day, I know that I can rely on Him. My life is better now because I strive to follow Him and to hear Him every day. While Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ allow me to feel pain, They also bring me peace, comfort, strength, and courage so that I can learn from doing hard things. Feeling pain helps me to understand and support others who are struggling.
We may never completely know what others are going through, but we can show love to those around us. I am grateful I know that my Heavenly Father loves me and listens to me when I call upon Him.

Crocodiles, sharks, and sea snakes are strange things to mention as memories from childhood. But when Domingos Liao was growing up in Darwin, Australia, they were an everyday part of his life.
Domingos and his friends would ride their bikes to the mouth of Rapid Creek, where fresh water and sea water mix. They would wade across, dodging jellyfish adrift in the current, watching for sharks that wandered in from the sea, crocodiles buried in the mud, poisonous sea snakes, and stonefish with their venomous spikes. Despite the perils, they crossed the river again and again, lured by what they knew was on the other side.
“It was a land of promise,” Domingos remembers. “We could catch buckets of fish. The beaches were untouched and clean. There were green fields where nobody had been before.”
Today a bridge crosses the river. The open spaces have become a park, crisscrossed with jogging paths and frequented by university students. Still, Domingos likes to visit the river, to remember and to think.
His young life is full of memories. They begin on the island of Timor, several hundred miles north of Australia. His Chinese parents were working in the Portuguese colony there (Domingos is a Portuguese name) when it was invaded by Indonesia. The men fled to Portugal. Women and children escaped to Darwin. “My mother, myself, and some other relatives came on one of two boats that got away,” Domingos explains. “We were lucky to survive.”
Domingos’s father later joined them in Darwin. Thanks to hard work, the family prospered. Two more boys were born. Domingos learned English. He discovered sports—cricket, karate, tennis, soccer, handball, volleyball. He excelled in school, in music, and in art. He worked in his uncle’s restaurant.
One day his aunt, a newly baptized Latter-day Saint, introduced his family to the missionaries. Soon the Liaos joined the Church. “We were active for about a year,” Domingos says. “Then my parents stopped going. I kept on for a while; then I started to play cricket on Sundays. But my conscience kept nagging me that I should be in church.”
It was at this time that Domingos’s grandfather, who lived in Melbourne, suffered a stroke. He wasn’t expected to live. Domingos, 16, felt compelled to pray. “I told Heavenly Father if he would give Grandfather a chance, I would devote my life to the Church. But I didn’t just wait for him to recover. When we returned home, I returned to church. I’ve been taught that if you say something, you should do it.”
Grandpa did get better. And by the time he did, Domingos was going to church, not just to keep a promise, but because he truly believed it was the right thing to do.
By the time Domingos turned 18, his church activity began to irritate his father.
“Dad thought seminary was getting in the way of my schoolwork, so he banned me from getting up early to go. I wanted to honor him, so I quit going. But I still did seminary at home. Then he didn’t want that either, so I put that away.
“Then he’d find me reading my scriptures and think I hadn’t done my homework, even though my grades were good. One time he grabbed my scriptures and threw them in the rubbish bin. I had spent the last two years reading them and marking them, and they are really precious to me. The next morning I was able to get them back, but I had to give them to the branch president for safekeeping.”
It wasn’t long before Domingos’s father banned him from everything related to church activity—scripture study, Mutual activities, home teaching, and, finally, Sunday meetings.
“Even though I was 18 and legally my own person, my first reaction was to obey. Really. You want to obey your father because he is your father. But I knew I couldn’t break my promise to Heavenly Father by not attending church.
“Dad said if I went that Sunday, not to worry about coming back. So I packed my bags. My prayers were very sincere that night. The next morning, when he saw me dressed up, he was furious.”
Domingos left, but his parents came to the chapel and found him. They reached an agreement that he could attend every other Sunday. “I wasn’t happy with it, but it was better than nothing,” he says.
Then the next time he got ready for church, his father again told him if he went, never to return. “The second time was just as bad, probably worse. I’d been waiting to receive my patriarchal blessing, and the patriarch, who can only come about once a year, had come from far away. I got there for the appointment, but my father came at the same time. I had to go home and missed my blessing.”
The third time that his father confronted him in a similar way, Domingos left home and moved in with his grandmother. “Eventually my mum came and said my father was all right and he wouldn’t get angry again. So I came back.”
But in the meantime, he’d developed a desire to serve a full-time mission. “I prayed, and the answer was very certain that I should go when I turned 19. From then on my mind was made up—I just needed to prepare.”
If he would complete his first year of study, the University of the Northern Territory would agree to give him two years off to serve. But he’d have to carry an even harder class load for a few months before he left. “My coordinator actually encouraged me and said the mission would be a good experience,” Domingos says. He continued something he’d done since high school—telling fellow students about the steps of repentance and the plan of salvation.
He intensified his scripture study, memorizing many passages. “The scriptures brought me peace,” he says. “They reminded me of the things I should be doing.”
He joined the full-time missionaries when they gave discussions. He often bore his testimony. He kept a journal, writing in it every day. His Church leaders interviewed him, found him worthy, and sent in his missionary application.
Then one day, this time when he returned from church, his father kicked him out for the fourth time. “It was pretty final,” Domingos says. “He was not pleased with my plans for a mission and said if I went I wouldn’t be his son anymore.”
His branch president, Michael Kuhn, invited Domingos to live in his home until the mission call arrived.
Finished with his schoolwork, Domingos filled his days with prayer, with uplifting music, with Church activities, missionary work, and study of the scriptures. Sometimes he would read the scriptures all day long.
And then the letter came: “You are called to labor in the Hong Kong Mission.” Domingos returned home for a short time to try to make peace with his family before he left. “Mainly because they knew they could not change my mind, they yielded,” he says. Before he left, the family went out to dinner together and took lots of farewell photos.
Letters written from the Missionary Training Center and from the mission field reflect the joy that quickly followed:
—“At the airport I was able to meet one of the missionaries who taught me, Elder (Hoyt) Skabelund, and his wife and baby and parents. I am slowly learning Cantonese. The people in the MTC are wonderful.”
—“I’ve received two letters from my mother. Everything is going well at home. They are being blessed greatly and they know it! My family and relatives are now happy that I am serving a mission. Surely God is a God of miracles!”
—“I have done my first street display, talking to everyone who goes by. I have taught the six discussions in Cantonese.”
—“Now I have been transferred to Macau, a Portuguese colony neighbouring the coast of China. I am pretty lucky because not many missionaries get to serve here. We are teaching an investigator, and he will be baptized. I know that God called me here to do a special work.”
—“Every inconvenience was worth overcoming to read the Book of Mormon. Every insult was worth swallowing to keep the Sabbath holy. Every moment was worth waiting for to kneel in private prayer, every pain worth enduring to attend church. Every blow was worth taking, every torment worth suffering, every tear worth shedding to come on this mission.”
Today in Macau, Elder Liao looks out the window of his missionary apartment and sees a promised land.
“When I decided to go on a mission,” he says, “I knew there would be strong currents against me. I didn’t really know the dangers lurking in the water, what might try to sting me or to swallow me up. I was only thinking about making it. Now here I am, and I know that it’s worth it.”
And he’s eager to build a bridge to help others, including his family, to cross over to the other side.

Let me try to illustrate my point with a personal experience.

At the end of my undergraduate education, I made a relatively simple decision to extend my education for another year here at BYU to complete a master’s degree. Then, as I considered opportunities for doctoral studies, I found the decisions to be very difficult: How would this degree influence my career? Was it the correct path for my eventual family? Would I enjoy the education and resulting career? What school should I choose?

I sought the guidance of the Spirit and hoped for a clear answer to my prayers. As part of this process, I educated myself regarding the different options and solicited advice from the faculty here. But obvious guidance from the Spirit never came. I wondered if I had failed to seek guidance with sincerity or if I had somehow offended the Spirit and was not deserving of the answers I sought. Armed, however, with information and advice, I made the best decision I could.

Now, the benefit of time passed allows me to see that I made the correct decision so many years ago. I have no doubt that I received the promised guidance of the Spirit without even recognizing it. Life has taught me that in these types of decisions, as we collect and evaluate information, the Spirit works right by our side, helping us to sift and prioritize the information that is critical in making the appropriate decision. He helps us realize which factors and considerations are most important. He quickens our minds and enhances our own reasoning. While we often don’t recognize this enhancement we enjoy, it is clear that we are, in fact, partners with the Spirit in this decision-making process.

“One of the spiritual experiences that I remember best from my youth happened when I was about five years old. My next older brother, Jay, had just been baptized. He was walking down a road between Provo and Orem. A man who had been drinking came swerving down the road in his car, and the door handle of the car caught my brother at the back of his neck. Jay had a serious fracture and concussion. We all prayed that he would get better, but after twenty long days in the hospital, he died. I vividly remember my mother and father sitting with us and saying, ‘Jay has gone back home to the God who gave us all life. The Lord could have saved him, but for some reason He didn’t. There will be a work for Jay to do where he is now, and we should not question the Lord. We should not have any bitterness or lasting sorrow.’ We all resolved that we were going to trust the Lord, and we all knew that someday we would again be with Jay.

Many years ago, 11-year-old Cori sat in front of the television listening to general conference. When she was younger, she drew pictures, but today she was listening closely for the things the prophet wanted her to do. President Ezra Taft Benson (1899–1994) asked everyone to read the scriptures, go to the temple, spend more time with their families on Sunday, and have family home evening. Cori knew that if she followed the prophet, she could help make her family stronger. Today Cori knows that following the prophet’s counsel increased her family’s love for one another and for Jesus Christ.

When I was serving as a young bishop with only limited experience in Church leadership and lacking much in the way of practical experience as well, I was approached by an elderly couple in my ward. They were old enough to be my grandparents. For years they had successfully farmed a piece of ground. They had been blessed in many ways and had reared a fine family. None of the children had showed an inclination to follow in their father’s footsteps as a farmer. Increasing age and declining health had brought the couple to a point of decision as to what should be done with their farm. They were reluctant to have it pass from their hands after so many years of labor and careful improvement. The children could not agree on a plan of action. Some wished to keep the farm in the family and lease it for an income to be shared among the family members; others didn’t care what decision was made.

One Sunday afternoon the couple appeared at my office in the ward chapel and asked to consult with me. They explained their dilemma and their reluctance to make a decision that might divide the family and jeopardize their own welfare for the remaining years of their lives. “We have come to you, bishop,” the old gentleman said, “to ask you to find out for us what the Lord wants us to do.”

I was humbled by the sincere trust that the couple were willing to place with me, but I sensed that the decision they were attempting to lay upon me and upon the Lord was not ours to make. I counseled them in the best way I could, tried to help them weight the alternatives, and then recommended that they prayerfully reach a decision themselves and ask their family to sustain them. They left my office in great disappointment, making it quite clear to me that they felt I was not fulfilling my responsibility as a bishop.

A few months ago, while participating in a service activity I was able to observe a sister who was heavily expecting. I wondered how much she would be able to offer while carrying such a physically demanding load. The agility and energy with which this sister moved to help lift a load for another needing relief, seemed to have lightened her own load. President Spencer W. Kimball (1895-1985) observed, “Only when you lift a burden, God will lift your burden. Divine paradox this! The man who staggers and falls because his burden is too great can lighten that burden by taking on the weight of another’s burden.”3

I always wanted to serve a mission, but when I turned 18 years old, the pandemic started. I didn’t feel ready to serve, so I started college, and I received a great scholarship. Many people recommended that I shouldn’t go on a mission. I felt like I was losing my desire to serve.
But then in general conference President M. Russell Ballard said, “If you are still in the age range for missionary service but have not served yet due to the pandemic or other reasons, I invite you to serve now.”1 When he said the word “now,” I felt as if he were speaking to me—that I must serve a mission now. Since that day I prayed about it and received confirmation that it is time for me to serve the Lord.
I have received a lot of criticism about my decision. My scholarship was even cancelled. But my desire to go is strong enough that none of those things matter. I was called to serve in the Guatemala Quetzaltenango Mission. It’s so special because my parents were sealed for eternity in Guatemala.
If you are wondering if you should serve a mission, it’s not too late! Always trust in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. They will guide us and bless us with things we cannot imagine.
Enoc M., Dominican Republic

When tragedy strikes in a village in Polynesia, help isn’t very far away. That’s just the way things work in the tight knit communities of the Pacific.
This was especially true for Tevita Lei, a student at Saineha High School in Vava’u, Tonga.
When his family’s home was completely destroyed by fire, they lost everything. The next day, his fellow classmates got together and discussed what the family needed to start putting their world back together.
Mele’ana Mafi teaches computer science at the school, which is operated by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She remembers the day she looked around her classroom and noticed someone missing. Students confirmed that Tevita Lei was not there.
The teacher asked, “Why is he not here?”
A soft voice in the back said, “His house burned down last week.”
“Our simple discussions led everyone to think outside the box,” Mele’ana recalls.
“Students started volunteering to donate things for the most urgent needs, such as uniforms, school materials, a new school bag. The rest of the students volunteered to donate other things such as food, clothes and blankets.”
Mele’ana then went to the school principal, Motuliki Fakatava, to tell him about the situation and to see if he could provide transportation for the class members to deliver the items they had collected. He readily agreed.
“As soon as Mele’ana told me this story,” Motuliki reports, “I felt an overwhelming feeling of gratitude. Several months ago, I felt prompted to begin to set aside in storage some food and clothing, but I didn’t know why or who it would be for. As soon as Mele’ana told me this story, I knew this was the right time and purpose.”
The next day, all the members of Tevita’s computer class got on a school bus during home room time and went to see what was left of his home. In addition to Motuliki’s items, the students brought along all that they had managed to collect including some essentials such as rice, flour, sugar, beans and crackers.
They found Tevita and his father there by themselves amongst the charred remains of their home.
“I told his father the purpose of our visit and asked permission to do a short devotional service with them,” Mele’ana says.
“When we started to sing ‘We thank thee, O God, for a Prophet,’ we truly felt the spirit present and confirmed God’s love for His children. The sincerity of the prayer offered truly touched our hearts and put everyone in tears.”
She continued: “I was so broken hearted when we arrived to see Tevita and his father outside trying to clean up the ashes and burned remains of their home. I knew in my heart that this was the right thing for us to do.”
Some of the students shared their feelings about their visit to Tevita and his dad:
“Last night I was confused about what I should take to give the family. It came to my mind that it doesn’t matter if it is something small, big, cheap or expensive, but that you tried your best to help. It shows Tevita’s family that this is not the end and that the good Lord loves them. I saw the smiles on their faces, and it reminded me of my family.”
“I hope that what we gave them was a big help to their family. By helping others, we learn to love them as ourselves. I am grateful, and may God bless their family.”
“As we arrived, I just imagined myself in the position that he is in, with such difficulty and struggling to survive. It touched me most when his father said that he is grateful that Tevita has family out of his actual family, meaning us, his computer classmates.”
“Seeing my classmates’ willingness to help him really touched my heart. It showed the love of a family we had in our class. No matter how big our help was to Tevita Lei, that didn’t matter, but what mattered was that our classmates were willing to give a helping hand to our dearest brother. We will never leave anyone behind.”
“I know that Tevita’s dad was so excited and grateful for what we have been able to do. He said that now he can feel that ‘there is a family for his son that still cares about him.’ Everyone in this life is my family.”
“The moment I saw this brother, my heart and soul filled with the spirit of love. I appreciated my teacher for the great spirit that inspired us as a computer class to visit our beloved classmate Ti Lei. I felt the love that Jesus had for His children.”
Mele’ana summarized her thoughts about this experience: “I am grateful for the opportunity to reach out with our class to Tevita. What has happened this morning was a great start of our day. The acts of kindness, working together, love, empathy, and service, does reflect who they really are. They are sons and daughters of Heavenly Father.”
“As I came back to my classroom and reflected on my students and the goodness and mercy of God for His children, the scripture in Alma 26:37 (The Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ) came to mind:
“Now my brethren, we see that God is mindful of every people, whatsoever land they may be in; yea, he numbereth his people, and his bowels of mercy are over all the earth. Now this is my joy, and my great thanksgiving; yea, and I will give thanks unto my God forever.”

It all started with a roommate in college who began to get “holy” (I thought). She only played Bach on Sunday. Well, I enjoyed Bach, but please, let’s have a little more contemporary music too! Let’s not be translated yet (or so I thought). Soon the spirit of that day came to me through music, just listening music, beautiful symphonies, a fitting background for thinking and meditation. Gradually I weaned myself from the music of the world on Sunday, and the light of the gospel shone in me in this single precept.