Gospel Story Finder

Years ago when Sister Nelson and I had several teenaged daughters, we took our family on a vacation far away from telephones and boyfriends. We went on a raft trip down the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon. As we started our journey, we had no idea how dangerous this trip could be.
The first day was beautiful. But on the second day, when we approached Horn Creek rapids and saw that precipitous drop ahead, I was terrified. Floating on a rubber raft, our precious family was about to plunge over a waterfall! Instinctively I put one arm around my wife and the other around our youngest daughter. To protect them, I tried to hold them close to me. But as we reached the precipice, the bended raft became a giant sling and shot me into the air. I landed into the roiling rapids of the river. I had a hard time coming up. Each time I tried to find air, I hit the underside of the raft. My family couldn’t see me, but I could hear them shouting, “Daddy! Where’s Daddy?”
I finally found the side of the raft and rose to the surface. The family pulled my nearly drowned body out of the water. We were thankful to be safely reunited.
The next several days were pleasant and delightful. Then came the last day, when we were to go over Lava Falls, known as the most dangerous drop of the journey. When I saw what was ahead, I immediately asked to beach the raft and hold an emergency family council meeting, knowing that if we were to survive this experience, we needed to plan carefully. I reasoned with our family: “No matter what happens, the rubber raft will remain on top of the water. If we cling with all our might to ropes secured to the raft, we can make it. Even if the raft should capsize, we will be all right if we hang tightly to the ropes.”
I turned to our little seven-year-old daughter and said, “All of the others will cling to a rope. But you will need to hold on to your daddy. Sit behind me. Put your arms around me and hold me tightly while I hold the rope.”
That we did. We crossed those steep, rough rapids—hanging on for dear life—and all of us made it safely.

It was a true gift to play in the NFL for a coach who shared my faith. Andy Reid came to BYU as a junior college transfer offensive lineman. He was part of the team that won the 1980 “Miracle Bowl” in which Jim McMahon threw the last-second, forty-one-yard bomb that was caught by Clay Brown to beat SMU. Andy was planning to go into the medical field and become a doctor like his mom, but LaVell Edwards saw something in Andy and told him that he would make a great head coach.

When he came to Provo, Andy was not a member of the Church. At BYU he met a girl named Tammy who changed his life. As they started to fall in love, she let him know that she wanted to be married in the temple. Andy wondered what the temple was all about. He loved Tammy enough to find out. Because she was willing to share her faith with him, he studied the gospel, embraced the teachings of the Restoration, and joined the Church. They were married in the temple, and they raised their five kids in the light of the gospel.

Andy’s whole career has been defined by hard work, dedication, and treating others with the utmost respect. Like LaVell, Andy made no distinction between the quarterback, the janitor, the tight end, or the secretaries. He lifted the entire organization. He made sure the workplace was professional and clean, with no evidence of pornography. I thought I was the luckiest football player on earth to have been coached by LaVell in college and Andy in the pros.

For example, Andy did not allow bad movies to be played on the plane or the bus when we traveled. That was different from how many other teams operated. I even took some gentle ribbing from my teammates, who would ask, “What are we going to watch this week? Bambi? ”

I told them, “If you’re lucky!”

After 9/11 Andy spoke to our team about grief and love. It was powerful. The next day he pulled me aside and mentioned how much he enjoyed watching me and my teammates quote Bruce R. McConkie on the news when we didn’t even know it. I asked him what he was talking about. He said, “Yeah, grief and love—I found an old conference report and plagiarized the whole thing!” It was no accident that when he left Philadelphia to become the Kansas City Chiefs’ head coach that he hired Emmitt Thomas as his defensive back coach. Birds of a feather flock together.

“In our stake all the youth were introduced to the theme in a standards night at the beginning of the year. We watched a bunch of clips including the theme song [see lds.org/go/embark9NE]. I instantly loved it. Then we talked about some of the standards in the For the Strength of Youth booklet. We finished by talking about Elder Neil L. Andersen’s temple challenge [see templechallenge.lds.org] and how important it is to find and bring your own family names to the temple.
“At home, I picked up my phone and looked up #embark on Instagram. I found tons of pictures of the theme scripture, logo, and some Mormonads. I posted a few pictures of #embark, and a few minutes later I got a comment from someone at school saying she’d seen me at the standards night. Before that I didn’t know that anyone else at my school was LDS—let alone someone in my grade. I love this theme so much!”
Haiden G., 13, Alberta, Canada

Will W., 14, from San Francisco, California, USA, probably doesn’t do many spiritual belly flops because he believes in making choices before the last minute.
“If you make the choice to do or not to do something before it even comes up, it makes things a lot easier,” he says. “Say you went to a party and someone offered you a drink. If you had to choose right then to take it or not, you might be tempted to take it. But if you had decided a long time ago to say no if anyone ever offered you a drink, you’d feel a lot surer of yourself. You wouldn’t even have time to be tempted. You’d say no because you had already decided to a long time ago.”
The 2018 Mutual theme says, “Learn of me, and listen to my words; walk in the meekness of my Spirit, and you shall have peace in me” (D&C 19:23). For Will, peace means feeling confident as he chooses the right and not worrying about negative comments from others. That peace comes to Will from making the decision to listen to—and obey—Jesus Christ’s words in advance.
“Sometimes kids give me a hard time for what I do or don’t do, but it doesn’t really bother me because I decided a long time ago that that is how I would live,” he says.
One thing Will and his family decided a long time ago was to keep the Sabbath day holy. That got a little tricky when Will made an elite football team. But, like Nephi, his family believes that “the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them” (1 Nephi 3:7).
To Will, football is just about everything. As his mom says, “He eats, drinks, sleeps, and just loves, loves football. It’s his passion and he’s very good.”
So when Will made one of the highest-ranking teams in the area, he was thrilled. The only problem: the team played many of its games on Sundays. Most teams wouldn’t accept a player who would miss every Sunday game. Choosing not to play on Sundays could mean losing his spot on the team.
But Will had made that decision a long time ago. He would keep the Sabbath day holy.
Will and his family prayed together and told Heavenly Father of their desire to keep His commandments and asked for His help. Then Will and his mother talked to the coaches of the team about their beliefs. To their surprise, the coaches wanted Will on the team even if he didn’t play on Sundays!
“I know that when I honor the Sabbath, I am blessed,” Will says. “I may not get to play as many games as the others, but I’ve seen blessings, like Sunday games suddenly getting changed to another day. I also think I play better because I have a day of rest.”
It gets better. Will soon found out that one of his teammates was also member of the Church. After a few months of playing together, the other boy followed Will’s example and stopped playing on Sunday too.

Let me tell you about some church workers I have known who went the extra mile. President A. Harold Goodman, of the Provo Temple presidency, once lived in Tucson, Arizona. While there, he was called to be home teacher to a man that no one had been able to visit. After attempting several times without success to find him at home, he went to the neighbors and found out that the man was working two jobs and left home every morning at 5:30 A.M. So the next morning at 5 A.M. Brother Goodman was sitting on the front porch; when the lights went on in that house, he jumped to his feet and knocked on the door. The man answered the door, and Brother Goodman said, “Good morning, I’m your home teacher.” The man was surprised to see someone so interested in him, and a warm relationship developed.

My generation was not immune either from the effects of what I call Second-Coming fever. As young missionaries, some of us serving in the Italy Milan Mission speculated that 1974 would be a critical year—and possibly the very year of the Second Coming. We were highly imaginative as we wove together a tapestry of various bits of data, including the facts that the April annual general conference that year was to be the 144th annual conference of the Church and President Spencer W. Kimball, the twelfth president of the Church, would be sustained as prophet, seer, and revelator in a special solemn assembly to be held on April 6. What better day than this, a day filled with historical tradition and scripturally significant numbers such as 12 and 144, for the Lord to return to earth to begin His millennial reign? You may laugh, but we took our wild speculation very seriously. Of course that historic and spiritually uplifting conference has come and gone, and we are still here. (See CR, April 1974, or Ensign, May 1974.)

Even today I encounter scores of people who believe they will witness the Second Coming in their lifetime. For my part, I am now somewhat reserved and wiser. I teach my students these guiding principles: prepare a will, buy life insurance, put funds away in a retirement program, and, if they really want to be nice to their family, purchase a pre-need funeral program that includes a cemetery plot! For many of my students, this last bit of advice is a little morbid, but it makes my point. Live today as if you will meet Jesus this evening, but plan your life as though you will live to be 100 years old.

I want to read a letter from a missionary that illustrates the feelings we see everywhere we go in the Church:
Dear Brothers of the Perpetual Education Fund:
This donation has been long time in the waiting. I promised myself on my mission that I would donate this amount to the Perpetual Education Fund on returning. However, for the past two months, temptation has kept me from it. Here is my meager donation made with a heart filled gratitude for all the Lord as done for me. If you don't mind I would like to share the story behind this letter.
When I was about a year into my mission I was in an area where we could not watch General Conference. Although we listened to a small portion via Internet we missed the session when President Hinckley announced the Perpetual Education Fund. About two or three weeks later I had the pleasure of training a new missionary from the MTC. With the new assignment of trainer come many responsibilities but also news from home. One day while waiting for lunch we began discussing General Conference. Out of the blue my companion began telling me of this new program the church had announced that would make possible for the poorer returned missionaries to go to school and receive an education. As soon as he described the fund to me, I broke down and cried. I mean I really cried. I felt an incredible sensation burning within my chest and I knew in an instant that it was from God. I knew in that instant that Gordon B. Hinckley was a prophet of God, and it came by way of revelation directly from our Heavenly Father. There was no doubt. I began to understand the love God has for all his children and his desire to help them in their struggles. I am not a rich man. I come from a good family that has what it needs. My parents through their hard work have set aside money to pay for my school. I decided that I could work to pay for a semester or two and donate a small portion to help my brothers from Latin and South America that I have grown to love with all my heart. The Lord has blessed me so much. I love Him with all my heart. May the Lord continue to bless you all as you continue to serve Him.
This letter was accompanied by a check for $5,000.

I had an interesting experience many years ago as we returned from our mission in Brazil. We traveled on a ship with nine children, and the ship carried about forty passengers, so we almost formed a majority. It turned out that there were three other ministers on board, and within a few days each of those three approached me and inquired how we could get together and visit about what the Mormons believe. They didn’t seem to be unusually interested in what each other believed, but they all wanted to know what we believe.

With a little hesitation, because my experience had not been that of having contact with ministers of other faiths, we arranged an interview where all four of us sat down together. It turned out to be very congenial and consisted primarily of them asking questions and me giving the answers. I had supposed that they would come out with strong arguments supported by scriptures that would make it difficult for me to hold my own. But in their friendly, congenial way they just asked questions and it turned out that I knew the answer to each question. I didn’t realize beforehand that I was that well informed.

Within a few minutes, as we visited, they began to turn to each other and make comments like this: “Isn’t it interesting? He has an answer for any question you can ask.” They repeated that comment over and over again, and we ended our discussion on a very friendly basis. One of these men, however, two or three days later, engaged me in conversation and said, “I have been thinking of what you told us the other day and I wonder if it is right to know everything. I think maybe you know too much. I don’t believe the Lord wants us to know it all.” I could tell that he was offended. A day or two later he spoke to me again. He said, “I’ve been considering what you told me, and I have come to the conclusion that what you teach is a very dangerous heresy.”

I wasn’t prepared, as I ought to have been, for that kind of a comment, and with something of a hurt feeling I asked him why it was that other religions didn’t seem willing to place the Latter-day Saints in the same fellowship with themselves. He turned on me almost in anger and said, “Because I want you to know it is a two-way street.” Then I caught the point. We do not fellowship them. We do not recognize them as the true church of Jesus Christ, and therefore there is offense to them in some things we teach. I don’t think it should be otherwise, but he had reason for the feelings that he carried. I wasn’t in a position, being unprepared, to conciliate his feelings.

My dad had joined the Church in Utah in December 1991. When he came back to Nigeria, we went to church for the first time. I got baptized in January 1992 when I was nine years old. When I was 14, the prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008), came to Nigeria at Port Harcourt. My family drove from Owerri to Port Harcourt. When we were driving back, the airport is along the Owerri road, we saw the prophet’s car. We told my father “Follow him”.
So, we followed the prophet to the airport. At the airport, they told the prophet some members had come to say goodbye. Nobody told us to come. We were just lucky to see the prophet on the way. While the prophet was shaking all our hands, he shook my hand and held my it and said, “Will you go on a mission?”
I said “Yes”.
The prophet said, “If you go on a mission, the Lord will bless you and your family.”
I was 14 years then and had not entered university. I got my first degree before going on a mission. I entered university life in Nigeria. University life was different and influenced me. Then the miracles began. After you get your degree, you are required to do a year of national youth service. When I was called to do my national service, I was called to Lagos. Normally, a lot of people pay money in bribes to the government to go to Lagos, but I didn’t pay anything. While I was in Lagos, I had a mighty change of heart and I prepared to go on a mission. From Lagos I was sent to Accra as a missionary. I met my wife and came back to Accra after my mission, and we got married in 2010.
I am from Nigeria; but I live in Ghana. In January 2023, I went to my village to participate in the presidential election. The Church is not there. One day a man and a woman came to visit me at my house. I am married to a Ghanaian, and they wanted to talk to me. While visiting with them, what came into my mind was the question, “what can I do for this family?” I felt like the best gift I could give this family was the gospel. I asked them if I could come to their home on Tuesday to teach them. As I was teaching them, they were responding positively. I focused on family and taught them the importance of family first. I then went to the house next door to teach their neighbors. I did not even start with my kindred. My kindred came to me later and were upset. They said to me, “how can you start a church and not even tell us?”
It was not my plan to do missionary work when I was there. I took my scriptures, but I did not even take a white shirt and tie.
As I was going around teaching the people of the village, there was a man who was baptized in 1982. He joined the Church in Lagos but when he came back to the village, the Church was not there. He became a pastor and used the Church’s Bible Dictionary and Topical Guide to teach. The people there thought he was a brilliant pastor. They didn’t know where he was getting his information from. Because he was technically a member, I focused on teaching his wife and daughter. The whole family got baptized. I was using my own money to hire a van to go to church in Umuahia, which was the closest place. The bishop and stake president were happy to receive us. My father even came from the city to the village to go to church with us.
I told my elder brother, who is a stake president in Owerri, what was going on. He said we fell under the Nigeria Enugu Mission. Eventually, we got permission to worship in my village. We decided to use my grandfather’s house to hold church in. My grandfather has passed away. When he was alive, white missionaries came to him and he said he would support the Church, this was back in the 90’s.
The people helped me move all the property and clean the house. The people cleaned the house as if they were members, but they were not yet baptized. The missionaries came and on the first Sunday, we had about 19 baptisms and later more, for a total of 39 baptisms. The stake president has applied for us to become a branch. My father came and bore his testimony and said he never thought the Church would be in his village.
The group still worships in my grandfather’s house. From my village, we now have two high councilmen called. There is someone enrolled in BYU Pathways. The Church is growing, and it makes me happy.

Alden Maynes was a copilot on a B-17 bomber. He had completed 25 successful missions over Germany when his luck ran out. The crew had just released six bombs over Berlin when the tail of the airplane was shot away, throwing the plane into a barrel roll. As Brother Maynes tried to make his way to the escape hatch, his parachute caught on something and was pulled open. He attempted to close it without success and was forced to bail anyway. At 27,000 feet without oxygen, he lost consciousness as he fell through the air. When he came to, he was still falling and the war was going on around him. Planes were still dropping bombs and antiaircraft guns were still being fired. Falling toward a mass of fire and destruction, with his parachute trailing unopened above him, he gyrated in 25 foot circles. He tried to draw it down in hopes he could force it open, but the effort proved impossible. At this point, he talked to the God and told him that he had done all that he could do and that it was now in God's hands. Alden Maynes submitted completely trusted in the will of the Lord. Immediately a calm and peaceful feeling settled over him and he knew that whatever happened would be all right.
As he continued to fall, he drifted away from the bombed area. As he fell past a six-story building, his chute caught hold of the roof, holding him briefly and then tore loose. Barely missing the building, his parachute caught again, this time on a street lamp--saving his life, suspending him feet three feet above the sidewalk. Though he was taken prisoner, in his heart knew that God had spared his life. God did more for Alden Maynes than he ever could have done for himself.

One ever remembers that Christmas day when giving replaced getting. In my life, this took place in my tenth year. As Christmas approached, I yearned as only a boy can yearn for an electric train. My desire was not to receive the economical and everywhere-to-be-found windup model train; rather, I wanted one that operated through the miracle of electricity. The times were those of economic depression; yet Mother and Dad, through some sacrifice I am sure, presented to me on Christmas morning a beautiful electric train.
For hours I operated the transformer, watching the engine first pull its cars forward, then push them backward around the track. Mother entered the living room and said to me that she had purchased a windup train for Mrs. Hansen’s son, Mark, who lived down the lane. I asked if I could see the train. The engine was short and blocky, not long and sleek like the expensive model I had received. However, I did take notice of an oil tanker car that was part of his inexpensive set. My train had no such car, and pangs of envy began to be felt. I put up such a fuss that Mother succumbed to my pleadings and handed me the oil tanker car. She said, “If you need it more than Mark, you take it.” I put it with my train set and felt pleased with the result.
Mother and I took the remaining cars and the engine down to Mark Hansen. The young boy was a year or two older than I. He had never anticipated such a gift and was thrilled beyond words. He wound the key in his engine, it not being electric like mine, and was overjoyed as the engine and two cars, plus a caboose, went around the track.
Then Mother wisely asked, “What do you think of Mark’s train, Tommy?”
I felt a keen sense of guilt and became very much aware of my selfishness. I said to Mother, “Wait just a moment. I’ll be right back.”
As swiftly as my legs could carry me, I ran home, picked up the oil tanker car plus an additional car from my train set, and ran back down the lane to the Hansen home, joyfully saying to Mark, “We forgot to bring two cars that belong to your train.” Mark coupled the two extra cars to his set. I watched the engine make its labored way around the track and felt supreme joy, difficult to describe and impossible to forget. The spirit of Christmas had filled my very soul.

Recently in the mail was a query from friends in California, now retiring from schoolteaching, who indicated a desire to return to Utah and who asked, “What can we do for the Church when we return?”
My answer was, “Don’t come to Utah. Your church experience is needed out in the world. Brush up on your Norwegian that you learned as a missionary years ago.” I understand they will soon be on their way. He is thrilled with this opportunity to serve a second mission, and this time he will have an added blessing of keeping the same companion for his entire mission.

Bishop Burton: I can remember how frightened I was the first time I was assigned to go home teaching. My companion was a less-active Melchizedek Priesthood holder, but he was a faithful home teacher. When we went into the homes of the people, that tough, large, rather rough-appearing man was as meek and mild as anyone could be and always insisted that we kneel in prayer with the families. He was a marvelous human being who taught me—a young teacher—how to be a home teacher.

Illustrated by Shauna Mooney Kawasaki
It was very nice of you to invite me over for Thanksgiving dinner.
It’s our pleasure. You’re a great neighbor and one of our favorite people.
You folks have been wonderful to me since my Bill died. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.
Well, our lives would be a lot poorer without you too.
And you’re my “next-door grandma.”
“How come you’re crying, Next-door Grandma?”
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. It’s just that it’s my first Thanksgiving without Bill, and you’re all being so sweet.
Don’t you worry about it for a second. We consider you part of our family, and if you can’t cry with your own family, where can you?
I don’t want to spoil your lovely dinner. It just hits me sometimes that I’ll never see him again.
You will see him again, Next-door Grandma! Next-door Grandpa is with Heavenly Father—I know he is!
Oh, Mandy, I wish I knew that the way you do. But it makes me feel peaceful somehow to hear you say it. So you just go right on telling me, OK?
OK.

"I did not really enjoy being a child, because they were difficult years for me. I was the oldest of six children and somehow resented this responsibility. I can never remember feeling carefree, because I was always trying to measure up to my parents’ expectations. Now when I’m in someone’s home, I often ask the oldest child, ‘How do you feel about being the oldest one in your family?’ I’ve had some interesting conversations.
“I liked school and really enjoyed learning, which has been a very stimulating thing for me. Knowing how to read has been one of the great satisfactions in my life. To be able to read was always exciting to me. When I was a very small boy, I started reading the newspaper. I was a conscientious student.”
Elder Poelman said that one of the things he remembers and cherishes is the scripture stories that his mother taught him during his childhood. “Often my mother would be working at the ironing board. I can remember sitting close-by while she ironed. She would tell me Bible and Book of Mormon stories, and that was a great legacy my mother left to me.
“My parents were always very active in the Church and were hard workers. During my childhood, we lived in rather strained financial circumstances. A good part of that time we lived in a four-room home. We had one bedroom and a sleeping porch and one very small bathroom. I now live alone in a condominium with three bathrooms and it makes me chuckle to think about it.
“Many people had a difficult time during the depression. Father was unemployed for about a year and a half, and I remember worrying a great deal. My mother often took me into her confidence, because I was the oldest child. And I knew from the time I was a small boy all about our family finances—how much the coal bill was and how many months behind we were in its payment.
“But now,” Elder Poelman continued, “I have a great deal of satisfaction enjoying the childhoods of my children and my grandchildren. I have seven grandchildren, one girl and six boys. Our oldest just turned seven. I really enjoy being a grandfather, and I think that I’m reliving my own childhood to some extent. It’s a great opportunity!
“My parents were both musical, though untrained. While we had no musical instruments at home except my father’s ukulele, the family enjoyed singing together. I was in my teens when my parents first acquired a record player. And I remember what a great experience that was and how much we all enjoyed it. When I was older, the family did acquire a piano, and some of the younger children took lessons. My wife was a music major, and that was one of the things I enjoyed about her when we were dating. I loved to sit and listen to her play the Bach Inventions.
“The name Poelman is a Dutch name,” Elder Poelman explained. “My paternal grandfather was born in Holland, and as a young man in his teens, he left Holland and went to South Africa. There he married my grandmother, a Scottish girl. She was working at the time as a governess for an English family living in South Africa. My grandparents had one child born in South Africa, then they went back to the British Isles. Another child was born in England, and then they moved to Glasgow, Scotland, where my father was born. It was to their home in Scotland that the missionaries came tracting, and my grandmother answered the door. They were on the third floor of a cold-water flat in the working-class section, and a man named A. Z. Richards was one of the missionaries. He stayed close to our family until he died, and I have always been very fond of him.
“Subsequently, I was called to serve as a missionary in Holland, as were all three of my younger brothers. My father also served a mission in Holland. That missionary experience was a valuable one for me, because I had an opportunity to meet some of my grandfather’s brothers and sisters, and I was able to learn the language.”
I asked Elder Poelman what message he wanted to share with the children of the world, and he replied, “Your Father in heaven knows who you are and loves you unconditionally. Even when you do things that are bad, He loves you. It makes Him sad, of course, but it doesn’t mean that He stops loving you. I would encourage you to pray to our Heavenly Father often, knowing that no matter what you’ve done or how you feel about yourself, Heavenly Father will listen to you.
“Sometimes we may think that the Lord loves us only if we keep His commandments and that if we disobey His commandments, He loves us less. That isn’t true! This is something Satan would like us to believe because then we feel estranged from our Father in heaven. Remember, He loves you all the time wherever you are and whatever you are doing.”

When I was a few months away from returning from my mission, I started thinking a great deal about my life after my mission. I thought heavily about what lay ahead, especially with regards to my education. I often got frightened whenever the thought came to mind because my family didn’t have the funds to send me to school and I wasn’t sure I would be successful. I knew BYU-Pathway Worldwide was an option, but I didn’t know how adequate it was. Nearing the completion of my mission, I got an email to consider BYU-Pathway. I registered for the semester that started a week before I would return home. I knew I would be able to do a make-up work as soon as I returned. Just a day after I got home, I went for my first Pathway in-person gathering.
During PathwayConnect, I realized it was an exceptional program. It is truly “an innovative approach to education—one unique to the Church Education System and to the world” as President Russell M. Nelson proclaimed.1 It increased my faith, gave me hope, sharpened my intellect, and prepared me for the responsibilities I have now and those to come. My mission drew me much closer to the Savior and increased my spiritual well-being. PathwayConnect, while also keeping me close to the Savior, increased my love for others, increased my desire to serve, and improved my temporal well-being.
It wasn’t always smooth. I took my first semester with my smartphone only while I was working a low-income job. It was very challenging, especially during the second semester. I couldn’t do it all with my phone anymore so I shared a laptop with a friend named Loveth Ngumah, but I could only use it at the chapel. I would go there every evening after work, wait for her to finish studying, and then I would take over. Sometimes it meant I get home at 11 PM, and some nights were spent at the chapel, but I never gave up. I knew it was going to change my life anyway, so it was worth it. Soon, I was blessed with a laptop scholarship.
PathwayConnect in itself and the challenges faced prepared me for the busy responsibilities of an assistant stake clerk and Pathway service missionary. Also, it helped me secure a job as a quality assurance specialist for the Family History Department of the Africa West Area Office after completing my first certificate from BYU-Idaho Online.
This has been life-changing! I always hoped to be a part of the Church workforce, but I never saw myself in that position any time soon! Every morning at work I look through my office window to see the Accra Ghana Temple and thank the Lord for such an opportunity to serve in and work for the Church.
I am a first-generation university student. I am almost finished with my second certificate, and then I will finish my associate’s and bachelor’s degree. With every certificate or milestone, my self-esteem increases and my fear of the future decreases because I feel I am one step closer to securing a better future. Because I know I am nothing without God and this inspired program, I have learned to be humble and kind. I have extended helping hands to many other PathwayConnect students to give back. I created a WhatsApp group for PathwayConnect students around the globe to help them through tips and video demonstrations each week. Now, whenever I think about what lies ahead, I can’t help but smile and be eternally grateful for an inspired program called PathwayConnect.

To understand President McKay and a little bit of what you have emanated here on your campus, he grew up in a day when the eighth grade was the expected education for any young person. Most people in our town didn't even get to the eighth grade but those who did, they had fulfilled what you would think of as a high school education today.

At one time President Mckay's mother, we called her Aunt Jeanette, received an inheritance of $2500. All those around her were advising her, in particular, her brother in law, Isaac McKay, who was a very successful businessman, advised Aunt Jeanette, "Now take that $2500 and invest it and only use the interest for what you want. That would serve you for a long time in your life." Aunt Jeannette declined all the advice. She took the $2500, she provided wagon, team of horses, loaded in the wagon some flour, some potatoes, and other things to eat and keep, put four of her children in the wagon, tied dairy cow on behind the back of the wagon and sent them off 75 miles to Salt Lake City and the University of Utah to go to school. Those four children got a college education when it was almost unheard of, especially in our farming community, population 496, up in the mountains.

That emphasis on education has made all the difference in the world to President McKay and others in his family.

My wife, Jacqui, and I were called to serve in Africa in 2016. Before coming, I asked for advice from Elder Carl B. Cook who had just completed his assignment as the Africa Southeast Area President. He said something very wise that I have since found to be absolutely true: “You think that you will teach the Saints, but actually they will teach you.”
You have taught us how to forgive. In countries such as South Africa and Rwanda, brutal past experiences could have forever filled future generations with hate and bitterness. Yet time and time again, we have witnessed extraordinary examples of converts who are living the Lord’s teachings that we are to “forgive all men”,1 even those who “hate you . . . despitefully use you, and persecute you”.2
You have taught us the essence of ministering. And how caring for each other in a time of need is an integral part of the African culture. I recall being in a leadership meeting in Gaborone, Botswana where the new higher and holier form of home teaching was being introduced and would be called ministering. Afterwards I was talking with a brother who said with a puzzled look, “This should be easy for us, as ministering is what we already naturally do in Africa.”
You have taught us of true riches. Some of you live in prosperous circumstances yet remain humble and serve faithfully. Others we have met might be judged by the world to be poor. Yet as I think of many cherished and sacred memories visiting members in their homes and places of worship, I feel like Paul in describing this latter group “as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing all things.”3
You have taught us about the connection between happiness and giving of ourselves. The following quote from Elder Dunstan G. Chadambuka, whilst serving as president of the Botswana/Namibia Mission, captures this connection:
“I have had multiple opportunities to visit members and investigators in our mission, along with senior missionary couples. One observation I have made from visiting these homes, and also my experience from being a local and having a deeper understanding of the cultures and ways of living of our people is [this]: their circumstances may appear to be dire in terms of basic temporal possessions, but I have never seen a happier people who are thankful and content with what the Lord has blessed them with. Even in their supposed poverty they are willing to share the little they have.
“I have witnessed (foreign) senior couples especially, break down in tears [out of sympathy for the dire temporal circumstances of some of our members] and I am often left wondering why they feel so much pity for these brave, happy and content people . . . in fact, a person with a million dollars in his pocket could not be happier.”4
You have taught us about pure testimony. On our first Sunday in Africa, we attended a sacrament meeting in the Protea Glen ward in the Soweto Stake. Every talk we heard from the pulpit that day was Christ-centered and included pure testimony of the Saviour and His atoning sacrifice. We have found this to be the case over and over in sacrament meetings throughout Africa. As with the Nephites, it can be said of you; “we talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ, we preach of Christ . . . that our children may know to what source they may look for a remission of their sins.”5
You have taught us unity. We feel strength in diversity, and we feel true unity as brothers and sisters of many backgrounds and races serving side by side in the Lord’s kingdom. The Book of Mormon clearly teaches that “all are alike unto God.”6
The first doctrine taught by the missionaries is that we are all children of a Heavenly Father which quite simply means we are literally brothers and sisters in the family of God. The Apostle Paul described what happens as we embrace the gospel of Jesus Christ by saying: “Therefore ye are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellowcitizens with the saints, and of the household of God.”7 And so it is that Sister Palmer and I have never felt like strangers or foreigners while amongst the Saints, even though we are from foreign lands. We know new converts of different nationalities and races feel the same acceptance and sense of belonging as we worship together and minister to one another in love.
You have taught us about JOY. We shall never forget the overwhelming joy of the Saints at the Kinshasa and Durban temple dedications. The pure joy of those who gathered in Harare and Nairobi to hear from our newly sustained prophet, President Russell M. Nelson, along with Sister Wendy Nelson and Elder Jeffrey R. and Sister Patricia Holland. The joy of over 7,000 Saints in Johannesburg who heard Elder Holland proclaim that “the answer to every problem in Africa can be found in the gospel of Jesus Christ.” And in smaller settings, the joy we feel from new converts and from those going to the temple for the very first time as they bind themselves to Christ in sacred covenants. President Nelson gave a landmark talk in 2016 titled “Joy and Spiritual Survival.” In that talk he made a statement that pierced my soul as I pondered the challenging circumstances so many members find themselves facing in Africa. “The joy we feel has little to do with the circumstances of our lives and everything to do with the focus of our lives.
When the focus . . . is on . . . Jesus Christ and His gospel, we can feel joy regardless of what is happening—or not happening—in our lives.”8

By the time my plane approached the Salt Lake airport, I felt worn out with the traveling and emotions of the day. The plane had crossed the high Rocky Mountains, which in the early sunset presented a fairy world of peaks and crevices, clouds and shadows in changing, shifting patterns before my eyes.

But now, as the plane touched down, as I moved with the press into the crowded terminal, it seemed everyone had someone to meet them and some place to go. I hesitated, uncertain what to do or where to go next. I noticed a woman approaching, an older woman, very attractive, with rich brown hair and a lovely face. As she drew closer, I thought she looked familiar, so I glanced at her again. It looked as though she was coming directly my way. I shifted my feet and stared down at the floor, and when I glanced up again the woman was standing right beside me. She smiled, and the feeling that I had seen her somewhere before grew stronger.

“Michelle?” she said, with a little question at the end of the word. “You are Michelle Briggs, aren’t you?”

“Yes …” I stammered.

“I thought so,” she said. “You look very much like your mother, Michelle; you have her beautiful eyes.” She smiled again. “I don’t mean to alarm you, my dear, but I’m your Aunt Beth.”

“I don’t understand,” I cried. “What are you doing here? How did you know where to find me … or … or that I exist at all?”

“Your mother, Michelle,” she said, and took my hand gently in hers. “All these years I have written to your mother, but not once did she reply.”

“You, you mean, my mother’s known where you’ve been all along?”

“She’s known, but she hasn’t wanted to admit it. Your mother was very young when I went away, and your Grandpa Hunter did a good job of poisoning her mind. By the time she was old enough to understand … well, it was too late.”

“Understand? Understand what?”

She paused, and her eyes began to sparkle. “When I was a girl I defied my father and joined the Mormon church. I was young and unwise. I hurt his pride, and he refused to forgive me. When I left and went to Utah, he refused to tell anyone where I had gone or what had really happened to me. He died without knowing that I had married and that he had three grandchildren he had never seen and another one on the way.

“But you see, Michelle, I kept taking the Franklin City paper and I read about your mother’s wedding, and I wrote to her faithfully, hoping that sometime something would touch her heart and she would respond to me.”

“All these years?” I breathed in amazement.

“All these years. And all these years I have prayed that the Lord would soften her heart; and he has answered my prayers, Michelle, through you.” The sparkle in her eyes was wet now and her hand tightened over mine.

“But what …” I stammered, “how …” I still didn’t understand.

“Your mother wrote to me telling me you had joined the Mormon church, telling me you were coming to BYU and asking me to take care of you.”

“My mother … did that … ?”

My aunt nodded. “She told me what a special girl you were and how much she loved you.”

I couldn’t see too well, for my own eyes were clouded with tears and my throat ached trying to hold them back. My prayers and Aunt Beth’s prayers—and the prayers of a mother whose concern had overcome her “Pride and Prejudice,” and who could still teach me something about sacrifice and love! I smiled at the lovely woman who held my hand.

“I’ve got a long way to go,” I said.

“You’ll make it,” she replied, and I felt she understood all the things I was unable to say.

“Yes, yes,” I agreed, I have to make it. I want to be a real Latter-day Saint. I want to make my mother proud of me.”

When Jeddy was about six years old, he liked to hitch rides on passing sleighs by hanging on behind for a block or two. Once he got on the sleigh of President Brigham Young, who liked to drive fast. Years later, he recalled, “I found myself skimming along with such speed that I dared not jump off. …
“President Young, happening to notice me hanging on his sleigh, immediately called out–‘Brother Isaac, stop!’ He then had his driver, Isaac Wilson, get out and pick me up and tuck me snugly under the robes on the front seat. President Young … asked, ‘Are you warm?’ and when I answered ‘yes,’ he inquired my name and where I lived. He then talked to me in the most kindly manner, told me how much he had loved my father and what a good man he was, and expressed the hope that I would be as good as my father. Our conversation ended in his inviting me to come up to his office some day and have a chat with him.”
Jeddy Grant did visit Brigham Young again, and often. Of their association he remarked, “I ever found, in calling at [President Young’s] office or home, a most hearty welcome, and I learned not only to respect and venerate him, but to love him with an affection akin to that which I imagine I would have felt for my own father, had I been permitted to know and return a father’s love.”