Gospel Story Finder

I was having a hard day and had some troubling questions on my mind, so I decided to read my scriptures. Suddenly I felt like I should read the New Era, so I started reading the June issue and read “My Journey to Faith.” The last sentence really stood out to me: “I know that Heavenly Father loves each one of us and answers our prayers if we have faith in Him.” So I decided to pray about what was worrying me and trust that God would help me. Ever since, I’ve been at peace. Thank you so much!Karen A., Wyoming

Hearing stories got me excited to serve a mission. I couldn’t wait! I wanted to serve in Mexico, just like my grandpa. But the Lord called me to Guatemala. Years later I had the opportunity to serve as a mission president. I thought, “This time I’ll go to Mexico.” But the Lord wanted me to serve in Spain. When we serve where the Lord wants us, we’re blessed. I love the people of Guatemala and Spain.

The first time I experienced the power of the Book of Mormon in the life of a convert, I was serving as a missionary in France. My British companion and I spent much of our time knocking on doors—with few results. One afternoon a distinguished, middle-aged lady opened her door. She had little time for us that day, but we left a Book of Mormon and made an appointment to return two days later. When we returned to her apartment and the door opened, I felt a powerful spiritual feeling. She was eager to see us. She had been reading the book and had experienced the powerful feelings of the Holy Ghost. She spoke of her joy and peace. She was prepared for whatever course we as the Lord’s servants would invite her to take.
It was in the cold of February. Our city had no chapel, so we installed a portable baptismal font in an old wooden barn. The steam from the warm water filled the air. The humble members of the branch surrounded the portable font as this sister climbed up the stairs and then down into the water to be baptized a member of the Church.
The peace expressed by this wonderful sister echoed the words of Parley P. Pratt (1807–57) as he spoke about his first encounter with the Book of Mormon: “As I read, the spirit of the Lord was upon me, and I knew and comprehended that the book was true, as plainly and manifestly as a man comprehends and knows that he exists.”

A family from another country moved in across the street. They had two girls close to my age. They didn’t know much about Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. I became friends with them. I noticed that they swore a lot and did other things that weren’t good. Instead of walking away and not being their friend, I told them about Heavenly Father and the gospel, and said they shouldn’t swear or do bad things. I even invited them to church. Ever since then, they have been doing better and not swearing so much. They even started saying prayers at night. I am glad I can be a good missionary.
Natalie C., age 10, Idaho

Next point: I would hope that you and I would develop the faith that brings constructive, concrete action. Some years ago there lived in the South, in fact in the state of Mississippi, a teenage Negro boy. This young boy was Len Hope. I’m sure many of you are familiar with this story. Len Hope read the Bible, and he believed it. He read in the Bible that one could receive the gift of the Holy Ghost. He went to his minister and said, “I want you to give me the gift of the Holy Ghost.”

His minister said, “Len, I’m sorry, but I don’t know how to give this great gift.” He went to another minister. This minister tried to persuade him that there was no such thing as the gift of the Holy Ghost. He said it was only available in the times of the apostles of old. Well, Len Hope was determined to receive this gift, so one morning early he left the shack of his sharecropper family and walked some miles distant, where he found an old abandoned farm house. He went down into the basement. The windows were broken out, it was very dirty, but he was alone. And there this young man knelt in humble prayer, pleading with God Almighty to shed forth upon him this great gift. He prayed all through the day—you’re familiar with the experience of Enos—and when the night came he still prayed. He cried unto God that he would bless him with this gift of the Holy Ghost. He prayed through the night, and during the night there was a great rainstorm in that area. The water descended upon that house, poured in the broken windows of that basement, and Len Hope knelt waist deep in mud and water, pleading for God to bless him with the gift of the Holy Ghost. Then there came a voice to this young boy telling him, “Len, this isn’t how you receive the Holy Ghost, but if you will return home and remain true and faithful, the way will be opened for you to receive this gift.” So he started his trek back home.

The previous afternoon, when Len had been engaged in prayer, two young representatives of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints were walking along a dusty country road. At a given point one elder said to his companion, “I feel strongly impressed that we should go down this road here.” His companion wanted to know why, but he didn’t know why. They went down the road and saw in the middle of a field this old shack, and they approached the shack. As I understand the story, Len Hope’s mother came out onto the porch. She wanted to know what these two white boys wanted. She hadn’t seen white boys out in that area before. The one elder said, “Do you have a young teenage son? Is he at home?”

“No, he isn’t here.”

“When he returns,” the elder said, “give him this.” (He handed her a pamphlet.) They left.

The next morning when Len Hope returned home, his mother was worried sick about him. She saw him muddy and wet and wanted to know where he had been. She asked him to change clothes, and after he had done so, she said, “While you were gone yesterday two white boys came. They asked me to give you this.” She handed him a pamphlet entitled “The Gift of the Holy Ghost.” The name of the Church was written on the tract, as were the names and address of the Elders. Len Hope contacted those missionaries, was taught the gospel, and was baptized. Some years later he converted his girl friend, and she was baptized. They moved to Cincinnati, Ohio, and there raised their family. Finally they moved to Salt Lake City. This is the faith that causes something to happen. Lack of faith brings blindness and hardness of heart, so said Moroni, but the demonstration of great faith enables one to tap the very power of God (see Ether 4:14–15).

I grew up in Rexburg, Idaho, where I was influenced and taught by a wonderful family, friends, teachers, and leaders. There are special experiences in the lives of all of us that touch our souls and make things different forever. One such experience happened in my youth. This experience transformed my life.
I was always active in the Church and progressed through the Aaronic Priesthood. When I was a teenager, Brother Jacob, my teacher, asked that I write down on a card what I had thought about during the sacrament. I took my card and began to write. First on the list was a basketball game we had won the night before. And then came a date after the game, and so went the list. Far removed and certainly not in bold letters was the name of Jesus Christ.
Each Sunday the card was filled out. For a young Aaronic Priesthood holder, the sacrament and sacrament meeting took on a new, expanded, and spiritual meaning. I anxiously looked forward to Sundays and to the opportunity to partake of the sacrament, as understanding the Savior’s Atonement was changing me. Every Sunday to this day, as I partake of the sacrament, I can see my card and review my list. Always on my list now, first of all, is the Savior of mankind.

Elder Kikuchi related how, as a young missionary called to serve in Japan for two years, he was first asked to extend for six months and then for an additional 12 months. He agreed without hesitation but each time asked his mission president to call the future Sister Kikuchi. “She was so happy that the Lord needed her future husband,” he recalled.

The young couple married soon after he returned, Elder Kikuchi continued. Then a Latter-day Saint American general who had been stationed in Japan offered to provide him with a complete scholarship and living expenses at Brigham Young University in Provo. “It was a wonderful, ideal situation,” he said, “but we felt we should stay in our country and serve the Church. We kindly turned down that great scholarship.”

Ten months after enrolling in the Asia University of Tokyo—where he eventually graduated in business psychology and management—“I was called as a branch president, and one year later our first daughter came,” Elder Kikuchi said, recalling he got by on four hours of sleep a night. “Those days were the most profound experiences of our lives.”

Little by little the Lord was showing that he had prepared the way for me. However, I felt that I would need his help a lot more when I talked to my father. My father is a good man, but his hard life had made him tough and materialistic. Such an outlook would prevent him from accepting my decision.
On a Sunday afternoon, when we were alone in our backyard, I decided to tell my father. He listened until I finished and then asked very dryly, “Is this your will?” I nodded. “Very well, now listen! When you took this course you destroyed the love that existed within me for you. I am not going to drive you out of the house but from my heart. Those medical school stickers that I proudly exhibit on the windshield of my car will be removed, and you will have to do much to put them back on. You tore down a great dream of my life, and as far as I am concerned you fell down with it.”
I tried to answer him and express my great love for him, but my words stopped in my throat. I wished that the whole world would fall upon me for bringing such great suffering to my father, whom I loved so much.
Time went by. My father went to stake leaders to try to stop me. In a last and desperate attempt he went to the stake president. When he returned home that night, he had only harsh words for me.
While I prayed to the Lord to give my father understanding, the Spirit dictated to me that I should listen to him without saying a word. The night before he was to talk to the stake president again, he was sitting alone in the backyard. He said the moonlight made the night clear. He took the opportunity to pray to the Lord in the way he knows and said, “Father, I know that you have given me everything, but do you need to collect all at once? You know I cannot bear it.” In that very moment the backyard became filled with shadows that started to move towards him. My father became stricken with fear and ran to his room like a frightened child. He spent the whole night talking to my strong and sweet mother. That long talk with my mother and his interview with the stake president, when both cried, were enough to change his thinking.
And then came the night that I will never forget. I was in the kitchen peeling a pineapple for our dessert when my father came home. He stopped behind me, placed his briefcase on the floor, and said, “May I talk to you?”
I was already getting used to his aggressive talking. I answered yes and continued to peel the pineapple. “Listen, young man, when I talk to someone I like him to look into my eyes.” I stopped, turned to him, and heard him say with a calm and tender voice, “My son, go and do what you have decided to do because the Lord has told me that it is right. You can count on me for help because I love you very much.” We embraced each other, and the Lord bound the heart of the father to the son and of the son to the father. Tears of joy rolled down our cheeks.

Three young women now serving missions in Australia all have something in common. They originally grew up on islands in the Indian Ocean and were converted to the Church by friends.
Chong Kheng Lin was also from Christmas Island. She and her family also settled in Perth, Australia. She attended the baptism of Soon Lee and was impressed by the Spirit and the information communicated by the missionaries. She investigated and joined the Church. Lin is serving a full-time mission in the Melbourne Australia Mission.

My first social work job was as a child protection investigator. It was a job that definitely stretched me in many ways. As a result, I felt stress, anxiety, and sometimes despair. During that challenging time a colleague asked if I was serving in a Church calling. At the time I was serving in a bishopric. My colleague reported they didn’t accept a calling because they felt their child protection job was too stressful. As I thought about their logic, it made sense, but the Lord’s ways are not always understood by us. [15] I’m not so sure the people I served in my calling benefited from my service, but I know for sure that I did. Now I can see that I felt peace and happiness when I served. It soothed my soul that was disturbed by my difficult employment. Serving others enlarged my heart, made a bigger place for the Holy Spirit to dwell, and I had inspired direction in my life.

"Some years ago Father, then over eighty years of age, was expecting a visit from a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles on a snowy winter day. Father, an artist, had painted a picture of the home of the Apostle. Rather than have the painting delivered to him, this sweet Apostle wanted to go personally to pick the painting up and thank my father for it.
"Knowing that Father would be concerned that everything was in readiness for the forthcoming visit, I dropped by his home. Because of the depth of the snow, snowplows had caused a snow bank in front of the walkway to the front door. Father had shoveled the walks and then labored to remove the snow bank. He returned to the house exhausted and in pain. When I arrived, he was experiencing heart pain from overexertion and stressful anxiety. My first concern was to warn him of his unwise physical efforts. Didn't he know what the result of his labor would be?
"'Robert,' he said through interrupted short breaths, 'do you realize an Apostle of the Lord Jesus Christ is coming to my home? The walks must be clean. He should not have to come through a snowdrift.' He raised his hand, saying, 'Oh, Robert, don't ever forget or take for granted the privilege it is to know and to serve with Apostles of the Lord.'"

I remember this was driven home to me as a young man when I heard of a visit made to the home of my grandfather, who was then bishop of a little country ward at Whitney, Idaho. In those days it was not uncommon to have stake conferences run for three days. And it was not uncommon for the visiting authority to take advantage of the opportunities to visit in the homes, not only of the stake presidency, but of some of the bishops. The story is told that Elder Joseph F. Smith—I think he was not then president (he may have been a member of the Twelve)—was visiting the old Oneida Stake of Zion, and true to custom, he had arranged to honor my grandfather and to take a meal at his home. In telling the story, Grandfather said that they were seated in the living room/dining room combination of the farm home. The table was laden with good things to eat. The family was gathered around—I don’t know how many (there were 13 children in that wonderful family and I presume some of them were away on missions as they usually were).

Just before they were ready to start the meal, President Smith stretched his long arms over the table and turned to my grandfather and said, “Brother Benson, all this and the gospel too?” What did President Smith mean? All this and the gospel too? The food represented the good things of life—food, clothing, and all the rest—the material blessings of life. This family of children—home, family, loved ones—all that the world has and the gospel too. I think that’s what the Prophet Joseph had in mind.

Two years ago, the Pace family was able to bring a part of the Easter pageant home with them. A pure white baby lamb, needed for a scene where Adam offers a sacrifice, didn’t have a mother, and many worried the lamb might die.
“When my mother noticed the lamb,” Kelsey Pace, 14, remembers, “she told the owner that I had raised lambs on a bottle before. So the lamb became my responsibility. I had to feed her every four hours, even in the middle of the night, with extra-large bottles of powdered goat’s milk and sometimes medicine, too.
“We prayed for her every day. She is now healthy, and she’s even in the pageant again as one of the sheep with the shepherds who hear the angel tell of the birth of Jesus.” The lamb, now a family pet, lives in the Paces’ backyard.

Although many of our activities are the same as those of other boys around the world, we get to see and do different things because of the unique land we live in. For example, a few weeks ago the Cub Scouts and the Boy Scouts hiked through Wadi Kelt. A wadi is a riverbed at the bottom of a valley that is usually dry except during the rainy season. This wadi winds through part of the Judean wilderness, and is it hot! All you can see for miles around are bare, rocky hills and clear blue sky.
Many people believe that Wadi Kelt is the place where Elijah, an Old Testament prophet, was fed by ravens when he sealed the heavens so that no rain would fall.
After hiking through this wadi, I can see why Heavenly Father had to provide food for Elijah—there is nothing out there to keep a person alive! So before we started, we made sure that we packed a lunch and filled our canteens full of water. Our Cub Scout leaders kept reminding us to drink lots of water so that we wouldn’t get sick from the heat.
Our hike began fifteen miles away from Jericho and took us about four hours. We had lots of fun as we followed the wadi through the desert. Some of the boys spotted ibex on the steep cliffs. They look like wild goats, with huge horns that they butt with.
My friends and I also saw a bedouin shepherd with a herd of goats. Bedouins are desert people who live in tents and wander from place to place. Many of them still wear long robes and veils to protect them from the scorching sun.
About an hour after we had started, we came to a small waterfall that tumbled into a green pool below. Swimming in it was my favorite part of the hike, because that’s my best sport, besides basketball. The cool water felt good after our climb down the hillside, and before long we were all in the pool, splashing around and sliding down mossy rocks.
Ryan and Shaun Dennett, two friends in my den, found some dead crabs in the water. They scared some of the boys when they threw the crab legs at them. We also found some frogs, only they weren’t dead.
We sat on big rocks in the sun and dried off while we ate our lunches. Boy, did the cheese sandwich my mom packed taste good! I was starving! Just as I finished my last mouthful, Joel Galbraith, one of the older Scouts, called out, “Time to go. We still have a lot of hiking to do.”
As we climbed deeper into the dry valley, Shaun, Aaron, and I pretended that we were in the army. Aaron was a general, Shaun was a sergeant, and I was a colonel. We ran ahead and hid and dropped off cliffs, scaring the others as they came by.
Sometimes we would march along in the wadi, which was full of water from desert springs. The bottom and sides of it were slippery, and we pretended that we were ice-skating. At times the water was flowing so fast that it would push us along. The moss along the bottom was great to throw, and we had the best water and moss fight. We called it slime fighting.
Some parts of the hike were really steep, and a lot of us slipped on the loose rocks on the path. Joshua Rona, another Cub Scout, fell and hurt his foot. But Ian Boyd and Steve Rona, two older Scouts, made a foot brace for him out of a bandanna. It was pretty tricky.
The last part of the hike was the hardest. The sun beat down on us, and my feet hurt. But I continued to run ahead and look for the place that marked the end of our hike—St. George’s Monastery.
On my way I saw a man and two donkeys by the side of the wadi. The wadi is the only place where desert people can obtain water, and donkeys and camels are the only means by which water can be carried from the wadi to their tents.
At last I saw the great monastery, built on the side of the cliff. It sure looked neat, but I was just as interested in getting to the top, where a stand with cold drinks and ice cream was waiting.

A couple of years ago a humor columnist for a local newspaper wrote on a serious and thought-provoking subject. I quote from this article: “Being a go-to-church Mormon in Utah means living so close to fellow ward members that not much happens that the entire congregation doesn’t know about in five minutes tops.”
He continues: “This kind of cheek-to-jowl living can be intrusive. … It also happens to be one of our greatest strengths.”
The author goes on to say: “At work on Tuesday, I caught the noon news broadcast on television. A van had been obliterated in a traffic crash. A young mother and two small children were being rushed to emergency rooms by helicopter and ambulance. … Hours later I learned that the van belonged to the young couple living across the street from me in Herriman, Eric and Jeana Quigley.
“Not only do I see the Quigleys in church, … we ate dinner with them at a neighborhood party the night before the crash. Our grandkids played with daughters Bianca and Miranda. …
“Fourteen-month-old Miranda suffered serious head injuries and died three days later at Primary Children’s Hospital.
“Here’s where all that nosiness … pays off. Although the accident occurred several miles from home, the dust literally had not settled before someone from the ward stopped and was pulling through the wreckage. The rest of the ward knew about it before the cops and paramedics showed up.
“Ward members went to all three hospitals, contacted Eric at work and organized into labor squads. People who didn’t get in on the immediate-need level were frantic for some way to help.
“In 48 hours, the Quigley yard was mowed, home cleaned, laundry done, refrigerator stocked, relatives fed and a trust fund set up at a local bank. We would have given their dog a bath if they had one.”
The author concludes with this insightful comment: “There is a positive side to the congregational microscope my ward lives under. … What happens to a few happens to all” (Robert Kirby, “Well-Being of Others Is Our Business,” Salt Lake Tribune, July 30, 2005, p. C1).

Soren was also his father’s student in the art of living. When Knud Edsberg joined the Church in 1961, he invited his son to join him in his newly discovered faith. Sixteen-year-old Soren wasn’t particularly interested in religion at the time. But after his father told him how much it meant to him, Soren agreed to be baptized. “I had always loved my father and respected him,” he explains. “Whenever he asked me to do something, I usually did it.”

As a new member of the Church, Soren knew little about the Church or its teachings. For the first month, he did not even attend church meetings. Finally, feeling obligated to learn what the gospel was about, he read a pamphlet about the Book of Mormon. From that small pamphlet he gained a testimony that the Book of Mormon truly is the word of God. That realization forever changed the course of Soren Edsberg’s life.

For one thing, he became devoted to serving the Lord. Just a few weeks after his conversion to the Book of Mormon, he was called to be a regular speaker in missionary meetings. Since then, he has served as a branch president, mission public relations director, high councilor, and Young Men president.

Another event that changed his life occurred in his Copenhagen (Denmark) branch when he met his wife, Johnna—a convert to the Church and a piano student at the Danish Royal Academy of Music. The Edsbergs were sealed in the Swiss Temple and have continued a life of Church service. Soren is now mission leader and Johnna is Young Women president in the Slagelse (Denmark) Branch. The Edsbergs have seven children, ranging in age from three to seventeen. In a country where families average one or two children, you can see the Edsbergs’s commitment to family values by their large family.

One of the most obvious changes in Soren Edsberg’s life involves his artistic course. “Of course, when you learn the gospel, it becomes your whole life,” says Soren, now forty. Now, instead of seeing artistic success as an end in itself, he sees his art as a means of serving the Lord and building the kingdom.

His desire to serve through his art has even transformed his painting style. “I thought about how important it is to be a missionary in everything we do,” Soren recalls. “I felt that if I wanted to do missionary work, I had to paint in a way that would communicate with people today.” Because in Europe realistic painting was not well accepted, he began to paint in an impressionistic style. Later, he turned to abstract art, always trying to make his paintings express positive values and gospel truths.

Brother Edsberg’s work has been exhibited by the Association of National Art in the Charlottenborg Palace, home of the Danish Royal Academy of National Arts. His paintings have hung in several museums in Europe, where his work has been a popular success. But he judges his work by its ability to influence the one who looks at it for good, not by its ability to sell.

He tells about one of his series of abstract paintings that was inspired directly by the scriptures and that had a scriptural “text” inscribed either on the back or below the painting. “My barber told me that he had seen them in a public show,” he recalls delightedly. “Then he quoted a scripture on one of the paintings word for word. It had made an impression on him, even though he didn’t believe in God.”

Soren Edsberg’s personality is warm and engaging, with just a hint of reserve. He becomes enthusiastic when he describes his latest work. It is a series of abstract paintings titled The Course of Life. It was inspired by an aerial view of the earth—looking down at people traveling on freeways and streets, all on various courses. The artist wants people to consider where their course is taking them. “Many times we have a goal,” he explains, “but without realizing we are on a course that is taking us away from that goal. I want people to think in an eternal way.”

The president of the International Association of Art Critics in Geneva, Switzerland, Alexandre Cirici Pellecier, has said that Edsberg’s Course of Life paintings, though truly abstract, are paintings with a positive message that is easy for the viewer to understand. Since Soren’s major goal is to be a missionary, this is high praise.

And missionary opportunities in Denmark—where religion plays little role in most lives—are not always easy to come by. “If you are a member of any ‘sect,’ you are seen either as not very intelligent, or as a weak person who needs something to hold onto, or as a crook who is trying to gain something from it,” says Soren. Even though missionary work can be difficult in such a setting, Soren has had some good experiences—the one closest to his heart in his own family.

Although three of the Knud Edsberg family—Knud, Soren, and Soren’s sister, Birgitte—were members of the Church, their wife and mother, Kirsten Edsberg, remained firmly Lutheran. For years, the family and church leaders had tried to convert her. Finally, Knud Edsberg became discouraged. “One morning my father came to my house. He stood in the doorway crying because he was so sad.”

Soren felt the Spirit come to him. He put his arms around his father and said, “Mother will be a member now. And when I say ‘now,’ I don’t mean in a year or two. I mean now.” After his father had left, Soren went to see his mother. “After I had talked to her for about ten minutes, she said, ‘I would like to be baptized now.’” Father, mother, and son wept together for joy.

A short time after her baptism, Kirsten Edsberg got cancer. As the disease progressed, Soren and his sister became disturbed. Their mother’s patriarchal blessing promised that she would live to fulfill her life’s mission. But she had not yet had her children sealed to her, nor had she had opportunities for church service.

When at last the doctors felt that she would die within days and had withdrawn all medicine except for pain killers, the elder Brother Edsberg called on Soren to give his mother another blessing. After several days of fasting and praying, says Soren, “I felt I had permission to tell the disease to obey the priesthood and to leave so my mother would be able to complete her mission in this life.” Kirsten Edsberg recovered and was able to go to the Swiss Temple to be sealed to her family. She was also able to serve as a Primary teacher. Then, a year after her healing, she became ill again and passed away.

With such experiences, Soren Edsberg’s priorities have become firm: “First, I have my personal commitment to my Heavenly Father. Second, I have my family. Third, I have my church calling. Fourth, I have my job.”

Soren does not consider that his job as an artist puts him in any special category. He feels that there can be artists in any work. “You can do any job poorly. You can do it well. You can do it very well. Or you can do it with genius, and at that level, you start to produce art. That means you can be an artist in whatever kind of work you do,” he explains.

This striving for excellence is something which Brother Edsberg tries to do in his church work. The Edsberg family home—a lovely four-hundred-year-old castle about eighty kilometers from Copenhagen—is often the site of activities for youth of the Slagelse Branch and Copenhagen Stake. Recently, the Edsbergs hosted fifty or so young people overnight at their home. With strong worldly influences in Danish schools, as well as society in general, Brother Edsberg feels that church youth activities need to be as fun and interesting as possible.

The Edsbergs also feel strongly about keeping their own children close to them. Although Brother Edsberg travels quite a bit, his studio is in his home. Since April 1986, one wing of the home has also been a public gallery, where works of many artists are on display. He is planning an exhibition of the works of Utah artists, particularly Latter-day Saints.

Helping their children stay close to the gospel is a continuing challenge. “I don’t think anyone can appreciate how difficult it is to raise children in Denmark,” says Brother Edsberg. “You have to teach them to make the gospel part of everything they do. You have to build their faith and testimony very strongly.” He emphasizes that parents cannot hope to fulfill such a responsibility unless they have the Spirit in their own lives to help them teach and influence their children.

As Soren Edsberg looks to the future, he speaks of artistic goals. He wants to explore his Courses of Life theme in larger mural form and also use such materials as marble, glass, and crystal. He anticipates seeing his children serve missions. In all, he is heading toward his eternal goal and steadily following the course that will take him there.

On 8 October 2024, 31 young single adults from Papua New Guinea arrived in Tonga to attend the Nuku‘alofa Tonga Temple for the first time. The group included two full-time missionaries serving in the Papua New Guinea Lae Mission and most of the others have received or are waiting to receive mission calls.
They were warmly welcomed at the airport with traditional candy leis by former Lae mission leaders, Sitiveni and Kilisitina Fehoko (2016–2019), as well as several returned missionaries who served in Papua New Guinea.
After receiving their own endowments, the young adults lovingly performed proxy baptisms, initiatory, and endowments for their grandparents and other ancestors. They finished their temple service with a final sealing session, linking and uniting generations with eternal sealing power.
The young single adults had researched family names in anticipation of doing temple work for their deceased relatives.
In the evenings, they were met by Elder Sione Tuione, an Area Seventy as well as former mission leaders in New Guinea including Isileli and Milika Fatani, (Papua New Guinea Lae Mission 2019–2022), Mosese and Akanesi Naeata (Papua New Guinea Port Moresby Mission 1997–2000), and the Fehokos who offered powerful messages of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and eternal families.
The Fatanis and Fehokos provided delicious Tongan feasts and local wards hosted dances each evening, which the young adults loved.
The young adults also enjoyed an afternoon of sightseeing and shopping. Several of them received dental care at the Church’s dental clinic at Liahona High School.
The hearts of the children turning to their fathers were evident in their words, which they recorded in journals given to each of them.
These wonderful young single adults from Papua New Guinea are eagerly waiting to attending the temple again when the Port Moresby Papua New Guinea Temple construction will be complete.

I pulled a book from my shelf the other evening. I read again the life of Mary Fielding Smith, wife of Hyrum Smith, sister-in-law of Joseph Smith, mother and grandmother of two presidents of the Church. A convert to the Church, originally from England and then from Canada, she came to Kirtland in her late 30s. There she met and married Hyrum Smith, who was left with six children after the death of his first wife.
Mary loved him and brought an added dimension into his life. In that process she set a course which brought her happiness only to be followed by immeasurable sorrow, for there was laid upon her a terrifying and fearful responsibility which took her from Nauvoo across Iowa to Winter Quarters and, in 1848, on the long trail that led to the Salt Lake Valley. At the age of 51 she was worn out, weary from the struggle. She passed away September 21, 1852.
Her life is the epitome of the Relief Society woman of those days. In fact, some of her experiences predated the organization of the society in 1842.
Mary’s boy Joseph was born at a time when her husband was snatched away by the mob militia then terrorizing Far West. Hyrum and the Prophet Joseph were taken to Liberty, Missouri, where they were imprisoned. Under the compulsion of Governor Lilburn W. Boggs’s extermination order, she left Missouri with the stepchildren for whom she had taken responsibility, as well as her own son. Her sister Mercy placed Mary, who was seriously ill, on a bed in a wagon box with her infant boy cradled at her side.
In February 1839, when winter was still upon the land, they traveled east across the state and then across the Mississippi to Quincy, Illinois, bumping along in a springless wagon where every jolt brought pain.
When her husband and the Prophet escaped from Liberty Jail and came to Quincy, life again improved. The Saints moved to what became Nauvoo and established their beautiful city on the Mississippi. But their peace was short-lived. Her little boy was less than six years old when a knock came at night on her window and a man said, “Sister Smith, your husband has been killed!”
Joseph F. never forgot his mother’s weeping through the night.
Her world was shattered. She was on her own now with a large family to care for. In the summer of 1846, they bade their comfortable home good-bye and rode a flatboat across the Mississippi. Taking matters into her own hands, she was able to trade, borrow, and barter for ox teams and wagons.
While living in Winter Quarters, she and her brother went down the Missouri River to purchase provisions and clothing. They had two wagons, each having two yoke of oxen. Camping for the night, they discovered in the morning that their two best oxen were gone. Young Joseph and his uncle spent the entire morning looking for the lost animals. They found nothing. Disheartened, he returned to tell his mother. Their situation was desperate, terribly so. As he approached, he saw her on her knees praying fervently, speaking with the Lord about their problem. When she arose to her feet, there was a smile on her face. She told her son and her brother to get their breakfast and she would look around. Following a little stream of water, and disregarding the words of a man who was in the area, she went directly along the bank of the river.
Pausing, she called to her son and brother. She pointed to their oxen, which had been tied to a clump of willows growing in the bottom of a deep gulch. The thief, who had tried to misdirect her, lost his prize and they were saved.
Mary’s faith imprinted itself in her son’s boyish heart. He never forgot it. He never doubted her closeness to the Lord.
All of you are familiar with her experience when one of her oxen, exhausted and worn, lay down to die while they were en route to these valleys in the West. In a mixture of utter desperation and simple faith, she secured consecrated oil and asked her brother and an associate to administer to the ox. They did so. It rose to its feet with a renewal of strength and carried them for the remainder of their long journey.
Such was the faith, sweet and simple and beautiful, which graced this woman’s life. She walked in the light of the Lord. She lived by that light. It guided her in all of her actions. It became the lodestar of her life. She exemplified the tremendous faith of the women of this Church—the women of the Relief Society, who today on a thousand fronts carry on the dedicated work of this remarkable organization.

After my parents separated, my mother and brother went to live with my grandmother. A short time later, I was born in Matagalpa, Nicaragua. Two years after I was born, while my mother was dying of cancer, she asked my father to take us in. He refused.

That hurt me deeply. After my mother died, however, my father began to change and to visit us. But I had no love for him. I resented him. Six years after my mother passed away, he died in a car crash.

Because my father had been mean to my mother, I had a bad concept of marriage. When I was 15, I thought seriously about becoming a nun so that I wouldn’t have to get married. But a coworker told me: “There are many other ways to serve God. You can get married to a good husband, and you both can serve God together. Ask Him to tell you which path to take.”

I thought about her words that night during my late shift at the hospital. Whenever I had problems or challenges, I missed my mother. As I was reviewing hospital records, I fell asleep and dreamed about her.

In my dream, I entered an old church and sat down on the front row. When I turned around, I saw my mother. She didn’t say anything, but she had a sad look on her face and motioned for me to leave. I understood that she did not want me to become a nun.

After my dream, my aunt and I began looking for a new church to attend. We visited several. I liked them all, but I did not feel that they were right. We wanted a church where we could feel God’s presence.

As we visited the different churches, I asked their leaders my “great questions of the soul.”1 I asked, “Will I see my mother again? Will she know me as her daughter? Will I know her as my mother?” Most of them told me I would recognize her only as my sister, not as my mother. I did not think that was just.

When I met missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I finally found the answers I was looking for.

“Will my mother recognize me as the two-year-old baby girl she lost when she died?” I asked them.

“Yes,” they answered, “and you will recognize her as your mother.”

“Will I ever be able to hug her again?”

“Yes,” they told me, “but for that to happen, you have to do your part.”

“What do I need to do?”

“Let us teach you,” they said. “Then you need to pray about what you learn. And if you feel that what we teach you is true, you need to get baptized.”

That same day they also taught me about the temple. We had a very special discussion. I knew that what they taught me was true. My aunt, two of her children, and I were baptized and confirmed two months later.

After we got baptized, I was eager to have my mother’s temple work done but not my father’s work. The missionaries, however, encouraged me.

“It’s part of doing your part,” they said. “Your father is also waiting for you to have his work done.”

I told them I didn’t care. I was still upset with him.

“We have found the gospel,” my aunt told me. “You need to forgive him and do his work.”

Reluctantly, I accepted their counsel. A year after I was baptized, I took my parents’ names to the Guatemala City Guatemala Temple. It was a powerful, emotional experience. I was baptized for my mother and for several other people. Then our branch president prepared to be baptized for my father. I did not want to watch, so I began to leave.

After the branch president entered the font, I heard my father’s name during the ordinance. Immediately afterward, I felt the presence of my father. That experience left me feeling ashamed for not wanting to have his work done.

“Forgive me, Heavenly Father,” I prayed as I began to weep. “I have been selfish.”

When I returned to Nicaragua, I went to the cemetery where my father was buried. For the first time, I visited his grave and placed flowers on it. I asked him to forgive me, and I told him that I loved him. Then I wept again.

My father, like my mother, had been waiting for me to take his name to the temple, where Heavenly Father allowed me to have a wonderful experience. That experience cleansed my heart. In that moment, all of the pain and anger I had felt toward him went away.

For that, I am eternally grateful.

In October 1977, they attended a conference in Berlin so that Enzio, a Church regional representative, could translate for President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985). At the end of the conference, President Kimball spoke privately with Enzio and called him to serve in the First Quorum of the Seventy—a full-time position that would require the Busches to move.

Their first assignment was in Munich, Germany, where Enzio led the mission for two years; then they moved to Utah in 1980. They traveled a great deal, visiting Church members all over the world, and Jutta spoke at regional conferences with her husband.