Gospel Story Finder

Melissa White has loved dance ever since she was two, when she saw her first ballet on television. But she had no idea what that love would lead to. While dancing in a local dance group’s production of West Side Story, Melissa made friends with newly baptized Monica Hall, who introduced Melissa to the gospel. Melissa began attending the Biloxi Second Ward, Gulfport Mississippi Stake, reading the Book of Mormon, and taking missionary discussions. It wasn’t long before she was baptized.
Since then many good things have happened to Melissa. She was selected to compete in the prestigious International Ballet Competition, held in Jackson, Mississippi, and her mother has gained enough interest from Melissa’s example to take the missionary discussions. Melissa’s life hasn’t been easy—her parents are divorced, and she’s lived with both, but she’s grateful for the guidance and encouragement the gospel has brought her.

A few years ago Morgan High School played Millard High for the state football championship. From his wheelchair, to which Morgan coach Jan Smith was confined, he said to his team: “This is the most important game of your lives. You lose, and you will regret it forever. You win, and you will remember it forever. Make every play as though it were all-important.”
Behind the door, his wife, whom he tenderly referred to as his chief assistant, overheard her husband say, “I love you guys. I don’t care about the ball game. I love you and want the game victory for you.” Underdog Morgan High won the football game and the state championship.

The greatest challenge came in 1983, when we moved. We lived outside of a city, and I commuted an hour each way to work. This meant that I had to leave home every morning before the children woke up.
We solved the problem by switching our scripture reading to evenings, just before bedtime. Reading then required much more discipline. Busy schedules, homework, television, and even Church activities competed for our time. But after a few weeks the routine was established, and we continued on our way.

Ever shall I remember a bus trek from Salt Lake City to the Clarkston Cemetery near Logan, Utah, which involved all the Aaronic Priesthood in the stake. There, in the quiet of Clarkston, we gathered the youth around the grave of Martin Harris, one of the Three Witnesses of the Book of Mormon.

With rapt attention the young men listened to a brief retelling of the experiences and testimony of Martin Harris. The value of the Book of Mormon in the mind of each youth soared. Then we walked a few paces to a pioneer grave with a very small marker. It bore the name of John P. Malmberg and contained the verse:
A light from our household is gone;
A voice we loved is stilled.
A place is vacant in our hearts
That never can be filled.

We talked with the boys about sacrifice, about dedication to the truth. Duty, honor, service, and love all were taught by that tombstone. I can, in the bright memory provided by God, see each boy reach for a handkerchief to wipe away a tear. Heard yet are the sniffles which testified that hearts were touched and commitments made. Each youth had determined to be a pioneer—even one who goes before, showing others the way to follow.

We retired as a group to a local park, where all enjoyed a feast of food. Before returning homeward, we stopped at the grounds of the Logan Temple. There we stretched out on the spacious lawn and gazed at a sky of blue, marked by white, billowy clouds hurried along on their journey by a steady breeze. We admired the beauty of the temple. We talked of sacred ordinances and eternal covenants. Silent pledges were made. Lessons were learned. Hearts were touched. Parents, grandparents, great-grandparents were remembered. Thoughts turned to the Master. His presence was close. His gentle invitation, “Follow me,” was somehow heard and felt.

One of our beloved hymns expresses the plea “Thru cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me!” I was once on a plane as it approached a large storm. Looking out the window, I could see a dense blanket of clouds below us. The rays of the setting sun reflected off the clouds, causing them to shine with intense brightness. Soon, the plane descended through the heavy clouds, and we were suddenly enveloped in a thick darkness that completely blinded us to the intense light we had witnessed just moments earlier.
Black clouds may also form in our lives, which can blind us to God’s light and even cause us to question if that light exists for us anymore. Some of those clouds are of depression, anxiety, and other forms of mental and emotional affliction. They can distort the way we perceive ourselves, others, and even God. They affect women and men of all ages in all corners of the world.
Likewise damaging is the desensitizing cloud of skepticism that can affect others who have not experienced these challenges. Like any part of the body, the brain is subject to illnesses, trauma, and chemical imbalances. When our minds are suffering, it is appropriate to seek help from God, from those around us, and from medical and mental health professionals.
“All human beings—male and female—are created in the image of God. Each is a beloved spirit son or daughter of heavenly parents, and … each has a divine nature and destiny.” Like our Heavenly Parents and our Savior, we have a physical body and experience emotions.
My dear sisters, it is normal to feel sad or worried once in a while. Sadness and anxiety are natural human emotions. However, if we are constantly sad and if our pain blocks our ability to feel the love of our Heavenly Father and His Son and the influence of the Holy Ghost, then we may be suffering from depression, anxiety, or another emotional condition.
My daughter once wrote: “There was a time … [when] I was extremely sad all of the time. I always thought that sadness was something to be ashamed of, and that it was a sign of weakness. So I kept my sadness to myself. … I felt completely worthless.”
A friend described it this way: “Since my early childhood, I have faced a constant battle with feelings of hopelessness, darkness, loneliness, and fear and the sense that I am broken or defective. I did everything to hide my pain and to never give the impression that I was anything but thriving and strong.”
My dear friends, it can happen to any of us—especially when, as believers in the plan of happiness, we place unnecessary burdens on ourselves by thinking we need to be perfect now. Such thoughts can be overwhelming. Achieving perfection is a process that will take place throughout our mortal life and beyond—and only through the grace of Jesus Christ.
In contrast, when we open up about our emotional challenges, admitting we are not perfect, we give others permission to share their struggles. Together we realize there is hope and we do not have to suffer alone.
As disciples of Jesus Christ, we have made a covenant with God that we “are willing to bear one another’s burdens” and “to mourn with those that mourn.” This may include becoming informed about emotional illnesses, finding resources that can help address these struggles, and ultimately bringing ourselves and others to Christ, who is the Master Healer. Even if we do not know how to relate to what others are going through, validating that their pain is real can be an important first step in finding understanding and healing.
In some cases, the cause of depression or anxiety can be identified, while other times it may be harder to discern. Our brains may suffer because of stress or staggering fatigue, which can sometimes be improved through adjustments in diet, sleep, and exercise. Other times, therapy or medication under the direction of trained professionals may also be needed.
Untreated mental or emotional illness can lead to increased isolation, misunderstandings, broken relationships, self-harm, and even suicide. I know this firsthand, as my own father died by suicide many years ago. His death was shocking and heartbreaking for my family and me. It has taken me years to work through my grief, and it was only recently that I learned talking about suicide in appropriate ways actually helps to prevent it rather than encourage it. I have now openly discussed my father’s death with my children and witnessed the healing that the Savior can give on both sides of the veil.
Sadly, many who suffer from severe depression distance themselves from their fellow Saints because they feel they do not fit some imaginary mold. We can help them know and feel that they do indeed belong with us. It is important to recognize that depression is not the result of weakness, nor is it usually the result of sin. It “thrives in secrecy but shrinks in empathy.” Together, we can break through the clouds of isolation and stigma so the burden of shame is lifted and miracles of healing can occur.
During His mortal ministry, Jesus Christ healed the sick and the afflicted, but each person had to exercise faith in Him and act to receive His healing. Some walked for long distances, others extended their hand to touch His garment, and others had to be carried to Him in order to be healed. When it comes to healing, don’t we all need Him desperately? “Are we not all beggars?”
Let us follow the Savior’s path and increase our compassion, diminish our tendency to judge, and stop being the inspectors of the spirituality of others. Listening with love is one of the greatest gifts we can offer, and we may be able to help carry or lift the heavy clouds that suffocate our loved ones and friends so that, through our love, they can once again feel the Holy Ghost and perceive the light that emanates from Jesus Christ.
If you are constantly surrounded by a “mist of darkness,” turn to Heavenly Father. Nothing that you have experienced can change the eternal truth that you are His child and that He loves you. Remember that Christ is your Savior and Redeemer, and God is your Father. They understand. Picture Them close by you, listening and offering support. “[They] will console you in your afflictions.” Do all you can, and trust in the Lord’s atoning grace.
Your struggles do not define you, but they can refine you. Because of a “thorn in the flesh,” you may have the ability to feel more compassion toward others. As guided by the Holy Ghost, share your story in order to “succor the weak, lift up the hands which hang down, and strengthen the feeble knees.”
For those of us currently struggling or supporting someone who is struggling, let us be willing to follow God’s commandments so we may always have His Spirit with us. Let us do the “small and simple things” that will give us spiritual strength. As President Russell M. Nelson said, “Nothing opens the heavens quite like the combination of increased purity, exact obedience, earnest seeking, daily feasting on the words of Christ in the Book of Mormon, and regular time committed to temple and family history work.”
Let us all remember that our Savior, Jesus Christ, “[has taken] upon him [our] infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know … how to succor [us] according to [our] infirmities.” He came “to bind up the brokenhearted, … to comfort all that mourn; … to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness.”
I testify to you that “thru cloud and sunshine” the Lord will abide with us, our “afflictions [can be] swallowed up in the joy of Christ,” and “it is by grace that we are saved, after all we can do.” I testify that Jesus Christ will return to the earth “with healing in his wings.” Ultimately, He “shall wipe away all tears from [our] eyes; and there shall be no more … sorrow.” For all who will “come unto Christ, and be perfected in him,” the “sun shall no more go down; … for the Lord shall be [our] everlasting light, and the days of [our] mourning shall be ended.” In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Gemma and her friend Harper sat under the tree in front of Gemma’s house. The tree was full of pink blossoms. It was a lovely day.
“Guess what?” Harper said. “My cousin is graduating from elementary school.”
Gemma picked at the grass. She wished she were graduating too.
“That’s cool, I guess,” she said.
“We are going to have a big family party to celebrate,” said Harper. “My cousin gets to go to middle school next year. He is so lucky!”
“My brother already went to middle school,” said Gemma.
“Did you know in middle school you get your own locker?” Harper asked.
“Yes, I know!” Gemma said. “I just told you—my brother already went to middle school.” Why does Harper keep bragging? Gemma thought. She’s not giving me a chance to say anything!
“And gym! They get to go to gym every day,” Harper said. “My cousin said—”
“Harper, I don’t care what your cousin said,” Gemma said. “I already know all about middle school.”
Harper stared down at the blossoms that had fallen from the tree. Gemma’s face felt hot. She didn’t know what to do or say.
At last Gemma stood up. She brushed the dirt off her pants and ran into her house.
Why did she get so mad? Harper didn’t do anything wrong. Gemma sat on the edge of her bed and took a deep breath. She wished she hadn’t said that to Harper. It hadn’t been kind at all.
She looked at her desk and saw a peach-colored binder with shiny hearts. It was the baptism book her mom had made. Inside were pictures from her life and notes from family and friends. She grabbed the binder and flipped through the pages.
She noticed one note. It read, “I want you to know that Heavenly Father is proud of your choice to be baptized. When you make mistakes and repent, He will forgive you. Repentance is a good thing!”
Gemma took a deep breath. The way she treated Harper was not a good choice. But she knew what to do now.
She ran outside and sat down by Harper. Harper looked down.
“I’m sorry for what I said. I shouldn’t have been so rude,” Gemma said.
Harper looked up. “That’s OK. I know you didn’t mean it. Thanks for saying sorry.” She gave Gemma a blossom that had fallen from the tree.
That night, Gemma told Mom what had happened. “Harper forgave me,” Gemma said. “But I still need to repent to Heavenly Father. Will you help me?”
“Of course,” Mom said. She gave Gemma a big hug. “Do you want to pray about it right now?”
Gemma and Mom knelt down.
“Dear Heavenly Father,” Gemma prayed, “I’m sorry I was so mean to Harper. I want to repent and do better.”
Gemma felt good inside as she prayed. She was glad she could fix things with Harper. And with Heavenly Father. Repentance was a good thing!
This story took place in the USA.
How do you feel when you repent?

A third visit involved me, the bishop, and another colleague. We entered the home of an active member and grandmother who was caring for at least ten less-active children and young adults. After we got acquainted, I invited them to share their favourite scriptures. Diana promptly replied that Jeremiah 29:11 was a meaningful scripture to her. (This is a beautiful scripture and not often quoted.) I asked her why she loved this scripture, and she explained that it reminds her that the Lord loves her. She then paraphrased Isaiah 49:16, saying, “I know that He loves me and will never forget me because He has written my name in the palms of His hands.”

I will not forget this sweet experience with Diana and her scriptures. We took this opportunity to discuss our need to remember Him. We spoke of the blessing of partaking the sacrament every week as one way of remembering Him. We highlighted the significance of the promise, “If ye do always remember me ye shall have my Spirit to be with you” (3 Nephi 18:7).

Melusi and the two families we visited are once again actively participating in church. Elder Mervyn B. Arnold of the Seventy said, “As we go to the rescue, God gives us power, encouragement, and blessings.”1 I have learned that we will receive help and inspiration when we are on the Lord’s errand. We surely do not go alone when we go to rescue His children. He has indeed graven us upon the palms of His hands and will therefore never forget any of His children.

Nick and Jake love their family home evenings, spent with their brother and sisters, Matt (17), Becky (12), and Annie (2). They take their turns preparing lessons and organizing activities. One special evening was spent up in the mountains on the edge of the city. After a lesson by Dad, they all went for a hike and came upon some fresh bear tracks! Maybe the West isn’t so tame now, after all! Nicholas and Jacob enjoy being a part of it and love being members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Sometimes service requires long periods of time and much patience and faith. Sister Craet of the St. Niklaas Branch, Antwerp Belgium Stake, suffered a brain hemorrhage and fell into a coma. Sister Poula Buyse, the Relief Society president, immediately arranged for people to take turns staying with Sister Craet. As the weeks went by, some visitors became discouraged, thinking Sister Craet would never recover. So Sister Buyse began to stay longer and longer with Sister Craet, talking to her, reading to her, and singing hymns.
Sister Craet did eventually regain consciousness—but she was partially paralyzed and could not speak clearly. Her road to recovery was slow and painful. Sister Buyse cared for her when nursing personnel were absent, giving her company, love, and hope. Sister Buyse did more than talk about charity in Relief Society; she lived it.

President Brigham Young turned to Henry Grow for help in transforming his vision for the Tabernacle into reality. A convert to the Church and a native of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, Brother Grow was a bridge builder with the skills necessary to take on such a task.
Plans were made, and in 1863 construction began.
Unable to acquire many common building materials, workers recycled materials and used local resources to build the Tabernacle. Lumber was harvested from local canyons, excess stone was taken from the Salt Lake Temple construction site, leftover military equipment and wooden oxen shoes were transformed into nails and washers, glue was created by boiling animal skins, and plaster was created from local limestone and enhanced with animal hair for strength.
Considering the materials available at the time, the Tabernacle truly was built with faith and ingenuity.
Four years after construction began, conference was held in the Tabernacle. The Tabernacle was officially dedicated in October 1875, after the completion of the interior.

A number of years ago Peter Snell of New Zealand was the best in the world in the one-mile race and the 880-yard race. I had the opportunity of meeting him in Wellington, New Zealand. Later on in the week someone said to me, “Would you like to see where Peter Snell does his training and his running?” I answered yes. I was shocked when I was taken down to the beach—not to a track, but to the beach. I asked, “Where does he run?” My friends said, “He runs out close to the water where the sand comes up over his feet. There it is difficult to pull his feet out of the sand after each stride.” I had an idea why, but I said to my friends, “Why does he run there?” They answered, “When he gets on a track in competition, he feels like he’s floating because he doesn’t have to pull his feet up out of the wet sand.”
In my mind I could see him running on that difficult track. I learned from him. A little later my friends took me to another place where Peter Snell trained, up in the mountains. When I looked for a track again, they said, “No, he runs up the steep hills. Then, when he is on the level at track meets, it is pretty easy to run.” That is why he breaks records, and that is why I remember his example. They told me he ran every day regardless of the weather conditions or how tired he was.

Recently I heard a father tell of the powerful influence his own testimony and example had in the life of his daughter. His lovely daughter was being pursued by an ardent admirer—one who had unfortunately turned away from the Church and who, through his wrongdoings, had been cut off from the blessings of the priesthood and Church membership. This girl thought she loved him and believed she might be happy with him.

Her concerned parents invited the young man into their home and tried to convince him of the need to put his life in order and to follow Christ. The father bore a fervent testimony of the reality of the Savior and of the joy that comes through obedience to his gospel. However, his words were rejected by the young man. In fact, the boy scoffed at such ideas and afterward tried to convince the girl that her father was old-fashioned and a hypocrite.

This accusation, the father said, was the young man’s undoing. That daughter defended her father and his beliefs. She knew him. She knew the validity of his testimony. She knew her father lived as he believed—his sincere love of the gospel and his example of living its teachings she could not doubt nor deny.

Her love she would save for another whose testimony was like that of her father, whose life would be blessed with the joy and peace that comes from living the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Today she is the wife of such a man, a happy mother of a lovely family born in the covenant of an eternal marriage. Oh, how blessed is the influence of a righteous father!

Howard moved to California. At a Church dance he met Clara May Jeffs, a former fashion model who was working as a personnel manager of a large Los Angeles department store. Soon after meeting Clara May, Howard realized that his days as a musician were numbered. A musician’s hours were not conducive to the type of family life he wanted. So, before he took Clara to Salt Lake City to be married in the temple, he packed away his instruments for good.
Howard and Clara were married in the Salt Lake Temple on June 10, 1931. The newlyweds returned to California where Howard went to work in a bank.

After World War I ended, Amelia began taking premed courses at Columbia University and at Barnard College. But studying medicine lacked the pleasure she found in nursing and Amelia soon grew restless. When a letter arrived from her family in California urging her to come west, Amelia packed her bags and bought a train ticket home.
Amelia could hardly wait for the long ride to end. Soon she was hugging her family and talking excitedly about what she had been doing. “Oh, I missed you so much!” she cried.
There was little time for Amelia to rest. The Earharts wanted their daughter to meet new people. She was invited to a number of delightful parties and picnics. Then one afternoon Amelia and her father went to see an air show in Long Beach, California.
“Well, are you having a good time?” her father asked.
“A wonderful time, Father! Wouldn’t it be glorious to fly like that!” Amelia exclaimed.
“Would you like to go up for a spin?” he questioned, catching his daughter’s enthusiasm.
“Do you think I could?” asked Amelia, hardly believing that it would be possible.
“I believe Mr. Hawks, one of the pilots, sometimes takes people up for short rides,” Mr. Earhart told his excited daughter.
“Let’s find him, Father! I just have to go up!” Amelia exclaimed.
They found Mr. Hawks and a few moments later Amelia and the pilot were taking off in a plane from a strip of graveled ground nearby. They just barely cleared the derricks of some oil wells near the end of the runway, but Amelia was too thrilled to be frightened or to notice how old and rickety the plane was.
“As soon as we left the ground,” Amelia recalled, “I knew I had to fly by myself! Miles away I saw the ocean [and] the Hollywood hills smiled at me over the edge of the cockpit. … We were friends, the ocean, the hills, and I.”
As soon as Amelia was out of the plane, she began coaxing her father to let her learn to fly. But he was hesitant and Mrs. Earhart was even more reluctant to agree to Amelia’s plan.
“Flying is not a suitable pastime or occupation for a young lady,” said Mrs. Earhart. “Flying is for men.”
“But why is it only for men, Mother?” Amelia persisted. “Why can’t a woman control an airplane as well as a man?”
“Amelia, there are some things a young lady doesn’t do. Flying is one of them,” her mother insisted.
“Voting used to be something women didn’t do,” said Amelia, not wanting to drop the subject.
“My dear,” her mother added, “there’s a big difference between marking a piece of paper and handling a flying machine.”
Though this may have ended the discussion at the moment, her parents both knew that when Amelia wanted to do something, she would find a way to do it. Before long she had a job where she could work during the week and take flying lessons on weekends. Within a year, she had made her first solo flight. In 1920, she set the women’s altitude record of 14,000 feet.

The first time I went duck hunting, I was ten years old. My dad wanted to spend some time with his boys because his Church job and his job as a lawyer had taken so much of his time. He suggested that we go duck hunting at a lake an hour outside of St. George, Utah. My older brother, Michael, was excited about the trip. I didn’t know what to expect, but I felt happy to sit alongside my brother and my dad in the pickup truck.
When we got there, we crawled on our hands and knees to the edge of the lake. The frozen ground felt hard underneath my hands. I peered over the water, looking for some ducks. My fourteen-year-old brother stood up and shot at the few birds on the lake as they were taking off. When the birds cleared away from the lake, I could see one dark bird left floating on the water. My dad realized that we didn’t have a dog to fetch the dead duck out of the water, so he said that he would get it.
The water was freezing at that time of year, and my brother and I were thankful that he had volunteered. Dad took off his shoes and his jacket and waded into the lake. He swam until he reached some reeds, where he stopped to grab onto them to catch his breath. Unfortunately the reeds were not strong enough to hold him up, so he treaded water for a while.
When he finally made it to the bird, he held it up and called to us, “It’s a mud hen.”
A mud hen is different from a duck because it is not good to eat. My brother groaned and shook his head at the effort Dad had made for an uneatable mud hen.
Dad started to swim back. Suddenly he yelled that he was in trouble. He could not get enough air, and he couldn’t swim anymore. I can still remember seeing him sink in the water. He came up again and thrashed around in an effort to stay afloat.
“We have to go get him!” Michael cried. He had earned swimming and life-saving merit badges and had the presence of mind to realize this was an emergency.
Fear flashed through my body. I began to take off my shoes and jacket because I thought that I shouldn’t try to swim with all my clothes on. Meanwhile, Michael could see that there was no time to take off anything. So with all of his clothes on, he dove into the water and swam out just before Dad went under for the second time. He grabbed Dad and used the Boy Scout lifesaving technique to bring him back to the shore.
When they finally reached the shore, they were both breathing heavily. Dad had inhaled a lot of freezing water and felt so tired that he could barely walk. My brother and I wrapped him in blankets to keep him warm during the drive home. I knew that Dad had come very close to drowning. My heart thumped inside my chest the entire ride home because I felt so scared.
My older brother saved Dad’s life. As I watched Michael swim out to save Dad, I felt very thankful that my brother had learned what to do in Scouts. At age ten, I knew that I could not have saved my dad. I was not strong enough, I was scared, and I didn’t know what to do even if I had gone out there. Michael did. Later, the Boy Scouts of America awarded him its highest honor—a gold medal for saving a life.

After completing PathwayConnect, I decided to enroll in the public health program at Brigham Young University-Idaho. I completed a certification in public health planning and implementation, health method evaluation and epidemiology. I have learned to support the world in disease prevention and developed a pandemic health program. I was very happy to support my country during the COVID-19 breakout in Kinshasa. People were amazing. I learned more skills about how to control this disease in my community.

During their years in Rexburg, Eyring family members grew closer to each other. By then Hal and Kathleen had four sons: Henry J., Stuart, Matthew, and John. Later they would be blessed with two daughters: Elizabeth and Mary Kathleen. But even in a small, rural farm town, Hal and Kathleen had to be vigilant. One of their concerns was the amount and quality of television programming that their sons watched. Henry J., the oldest son, recalls an experience that made a significant difference in the spirit of the Eyring home.
“My brother and I were in front of the TV one Saturday night around midnight,” says Henry J. “A tawdry comedy show that we shouldn’t have been watching was on. The basement room was dark except for the light from the television. Without warning, Mother walked in. She was wearing a white, flowing nightgown and carrying a pair of shears. Making no sound, she reached behind the set, grabbed the cord, and gathered it into a loop. She then inserted the shears and cut the cord with a single stroke. Sparks flew and the set went dead, but not before Mother had turned and glided out of the room.”
Unnerved, Henry J. headed to bed. His innovative brother, however, cut a cord from a broken vacuum and connected it to the television. Soon the boys had plopped back down in front of the television, hardly missing any of their show.
“Mother, however, got the last laugh,” Henry J. says. “When we came home from school the next Monday, we found the television set in the middle of the floor with a huge crack through the thick glass screen. We immediately suspected Mother. When confronted, she responded with a perfectly straight face: ‘I was dusting under the TV, and it slipped.’ ”
President Eyring honored his wife’s wishes, the children honored their mother’s desires, and that was the end of television in the Eyring home. “For the most part, Mother leads through quiet example,” Henry J. observes. “However, she is also inspired and fearless. Mother’s assertiveness has been a great blessing to her children and grandchildren. Both in pivotal moments and in daily routines, she has forever changed the course of our lives.”

Still, there were happy memories of his school days. Martin and several of his schoolmates formed a choir and sang Latin chants at St. George’s Church across the square from the school. Among Martin’s good friends at school were some older boys who would carry their young friend to school on their backs when the wintry roads became clogged with mud. Many years later, as a fond remembrance, Martin gave one of those boys a Bible in which he had written: “To my dear old friend, Nicolas Oemler, who often carried me, a schoolboy, on his back to and from school.”

We lived several years in Brazil. Soon after arriving, I met Adelson Parrella, who was serving as a Seventy, and his brother Adilson, who was serving in our stake presidency. Later I met their brother Adalton, serving as a stake president in Florianopolis, and another brother Adelmo, serving as a bishop. I was impressed by the faith of these brothers, and I asked about their parents.
The family was baptized in Santos, Brazil, 42 years ago. Adilson Parrella said, “At first, Father seemed very excited about joining the Church. However, he [soon] became less active and asked our mother not to attend church.”
Adilson told me that his mother sewed clothing for the neighbors to pay for her children’s bus fare to church. The four little boys walked together over a mile to another town, boarded the bus for 45 minutes, and then walked another 20 minutes to the chapel.
Although unable to go to church with her children, Sister Parrella read the scriptures with her sons and daughters, taught them the gospel, and prayed with them. Their humble home was filled with the rich blessings of priesthood power. The little boys grew up, served missions, were educated, and married in the temple. The blessings of the priesthood filled their homes.
Years later, as a single sister, Vany Parrella entered the temple for her own endowment and, later still, served three missions in Brazil. She is now 84 years old, and her faith continues to bless the generations that have followed her.

Another returned missionary, Bishop Fortunate Chitiyo from Nketa Second Ward, Nkulumane Zimbabwe Stake shares his and his dear wife’s mountain experience: “When our dear daughter Amalia Chitiyo was born, she had bilateral clubfoot” (a birth defect in which the foot is twisted out of shape or position). The Chitiyos couldn’t afford the funds for treatment and the special shoes which were recommended for their daughter. Bishop Chitiyo said, “During this process we prayed and fasted continuously and pleaded with God to heal our daughter and remove this mountain according to His will”.
After several months, the Chitiyos’s daughter was miraculously healed. Bishop and Sister Chitiyo testified of this healing experience: “This [experience] increased our faith and through it all we testify with the prophet of God, President Russell M. Nelson that the Lord loves effort! Truly, faith is the power that enables the unlikely to accomplish the impossible. The healing of our daughter did not happen according to our timing and in the manner we expected, but according to God’s timing and in His own way.”