Gospel Story Finder

Develop the habit of singing, or if this is not pleasant, of whistling. Singing to one’s self brings less comment and question than talking to one’s self! My father once came home from a deer hunt empty-handed, but his heart was renewed and his spirit lifted because, as he recounted with great appreciation, one of his companions had frightened the deer away by always singing trumpet-voiced as he walked through pines and quaking aspen. Father was more enriched by the mirth of the song than he would have been by the meat of the venison.

A few weeks before the North Vietnamese came, the full-time missionaries left, taking with them my translation of the Book of Mormon which was printed in Salt Lake City, and my work on the Doctrine and Covenants and the Pearl of Great Price. Both of these latter translations served as a major source for the final printed versions. But it was to be many years before I had the opportunity to see them. I was asked to move into the chapel to take care of it, but a week later, I received a call from the American embassy giving instructions on when and where the Vietnamese members could leave the country. I was given the privilege of being the first to board the airplane taking us to freedom. I felt humble and grateful, but my heart was confused. Most Vietnamese are attached to their motherland. The idea of leaving home forever hurt so much that many could not think of leaving. My Heavenly Father had given me great blessings in that land, so I felt loyal to it and decided to stay.
When the North Vietnamese took over Saigon, they imprisoned all South Viet Nam’s government officials and military, including Brother The, the president of our branch, and all my brothers, a son, and a son-in-law. At the end of 1975, they confiscated my property. They also wanted to put me in jail because of my past contact with Americans.
And so I tried to escape from Viet Nam. I went to an island, Phu-Quoc, close to Cambodia. I took all my scriptures, translations, and books and buried them in the beach; then I bought a boat preparing to escape. But I was not successful. The police put me in prison for three days, but because I was an old woman, they let me go. I was not able to go back to get the books and translations. They remain there to this day.
For five years I stayed close to the coast and used all my resources and strength trying to escape. I used a different name each time I tried because people would recognize my last name. I tried many different disguises—a merchant, a nun, a peddler.
One attempt I remember well. About eighty men, women, and children escaped in a small boat. Within two days, we reached international waters, but the boat’s engine failed. We drifted for fifteen days. We ran out of food and drinking water and just lay motionless on the boat’s deck awaiting death.
Finally we heard the noise of a ship’s engine. We waved for help. It was a ship from Europe. After giving us food and water, they towed our boat back to Vung-Tau harbor and the North Vietnamese. We wept openly. Many men, unable to accept such a fate, jumped into the sea and sank beneath the waves. The police imprisoned us. Luckily, I spent only a few months in jail.
On my last attempt in 1981, I was with about twenty people, waiting at the Vung-Tau beach at night for a boat. The security guards saw us and gave chase. Two women and I began to climb a hill fearfully. After about an hour, we came to a small deserted enclosure and remained there until morning.
When the sun rose, we could see we were in a cave that had been converted into a shelter complete with doors that were still in good condition. The floor was concrete, and the cave contained some used cooking utensils and pieces of broken furniture. We felt hungry, so we went out to search for food. To our surprise, we found that we were in a large, deserted orchard with trees filled with mangoes, apples, and other fruits. It was a still, quiet place, with a small pagoda nearby.
In the evening, the two women prepared to leave, but I was so weary from the fears of the past years and so despairing that I didn’t want to move anymore. I chose to stay.
The first night alone, I became afraid of my lonely, deserted situation. I left the cave and knelt down on a rock to pray. Through my tears and my loneliness, I asked Father in Heaven to give me the courage and strength to survive this ordeal. A peace and calm came upon me, and I knew that I could remain there.
This is my testimony of prayer. Whenever I have been upset or have struggled with particular challenges, I have prayed. Heavenly Father always hears and answers my prayers. He always listens to his children.
My life as a hermit began. Shaving my head, I disguised myself as an old, poor Buddhist nun. Occasionally, I went to the market down the hill to exchange ripened fruit for things I needed. I learned that the cave was called the Tiger Den—because a tiger used to live there before the villagers drove it out and made the cave into a shelter.
Each day at sunset, I sat on a rock looking out over the Pacific Ocean. I often imagined that on the other side of the water was our Heavenly Father’s temple, near which many of my brothers and sisters were living in happiness. I couldn’t help but weep, remembering the wonderful times I had had with my fellow Saints in the Saigon chapel.
Four years passed by slowly. I pondered and prayed. I wrote songs, poems, and books and tended a garden. No one knew who I was. Two of my children were still in Viet Nam, and I was able to send them letters. But I could not receive any—I didn’t have an address. Besides, I could not visit or receive visits from anyone because I felt I would bring trouble to them.
One morning, after working very hard in the garden, I felt unusually tired and decided to go to the hospital. In the office, I put my identification card on the desk; it was the only document I had with my real name on it. A woman close by saw it and asked, “Are you Mrs. Cong Ton Nu Tuong-Vy?”
I backed away and said, “Why do you ask?” She gestured for me to follow her to where she had her bag. From it she took out a letter, removed one page and allowed me to read this paragraph: “My dear Sister Thuy, you should try to find Mrs. Cong Ton Nu Tuong-Vy, who we think is living somewhere near the Vung-Tau seashore. The Church of Jesus Christ at Salt Lake City wants to contact her. Signed Quoc-Phong.”
When I saw the name of the Church, I burst into tears. Through my new-found friend, I was able to contact the remaining members in Saigon. It was 1985, ten years since I had lost contact with the Church.
Christmas that year was a memorable one. I took the bus to Saigon, where the members met together for the first time in ten years in Viet Nam. The meeting was in a park. There were nearly one hundred people there. We had ice cream and cake. Later, at our table, brethren holding the priesthood broke bread and poured water into small glasses for the sacrament. We bowed our heads and prayed silently. Our joy was full.
From that day forth, our small branch awakened as if from a deep sleep. A presiding elder was chosen to lead us. We were able to communicate sometimes with the Church and other members through VASAA (Veterans Assisting Saints Abroad Association). I was finally given permission to leave Viet Nam. VASAA had helped to arrange with the Canadian and Vietnamese governments for my exit visa. My oldest son living in Toronto, Ontario, sponsored me.
Less than a year later, in March and April 1988, I was finally able to visit Salt Lake City for ten days and attend general conference. I met many friends, missionaries, and General Authorities. The first time I saw Temple Square I could not help but weep for my blessings. In the Tiger’s Den, it had been my greatest wish to see the temple. At last, I was able to receive my endowment in the Lord’s House.
Although I am now in the United States, the memory of my experiences in Viet Nam stays with me. I pray that our Lord will bless all my brothers and sisters who remain in Viet Nam. I know by personal experience that nothing can destroy the gospel our Heavenly Father has given us.

The report of that mistake, which I found in my files as I did research for this talk, reminded me of an even greater embarrassment that occurred during my own time as president of BYU. This one has never been reported, but since nearly forty years have now passed and since I do not want to continue selfishly concealing my unique knowledge of this matter, I choose to share it now.

In April 1974, BYU conferred an honorary degree on our beloved apostle Elder LeGrand Richards. Honorary degrees are titled by the awarding institution. Most frequently they are titled Doctor of Laws. In a creative moment, our BYU administration and board of trustees decided to give a unique title to Elder Richards’ degree: Doctor of Christian Service. The diploma was prepared and put into my hands, suitably framed in a presentation folder. With loving formality I presented it to Elder Richards in the commencement exercise.

As we took our seats, Elder Richards opened the folder and examined the diploma, which I had neglected to do. As the program went forward, he quietly handed me the opened folder and I read the beautifully inscribed degree: Doctor of Christian Science. Typical of that great gentleman, he never said anything about this embarrassing mistake. As for me, I quietly retained possession of the erroneous document, and we soon provided the correct one. Perhaps we will now have to endure the publicity we avoided in 1974, but I suppose we are now more suited to do so.

Several years ago I was riding on a train from Edinburgh, Scotland, to Glasgow with a noted British lawyer. We had engaged him to present our claim of discrimination by the city council of Glasgow. We were seeking a building permit, which had been repeatedly denied by the city council at the instigation of an opposing ministerial group as not needed inasmuch as there was an abundance of vacant or unused church buildings. We had been granted a hearing before the secretary of state for Scotland, a member of the prime minister’s cabinet.
As the early morning train sped toward Glasgow, I asked the distinguished counsel if he had any additional questions about our church. I was concerned about his limited understanding of our expansion, of why we were building modern church buildings and why we had hundreds of missionaries in Great Britain. He assured me that he was quite comfortable in representing us and presenting our case that to him appeared to have merit.
As we discussed other aspects of our growing presence in Great Britain, he said, “I hear, but it couldn’t be true, that you baptize for dead people.”
I said, “Yes, it is true—not only true that we do it today, but the eternal principle of vicarious service of baptism for the dead was taught during our Savior’s earthly ministry.”
I explained that all of God’s worthy children of all ages can become heirs of salvation in His kingdom. I briefly reminded the lawyer of Jesus teaching Nicodemus that “except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.
“Nicodemus [said] unto him, How can a man be born [again] when he is old? can he enter the second time into his mother’s womb, and be born?
“Jesus answered, Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God” (John 3:3–5).
I also made reference to the early Apostles’ teachings regarding Christ’s resurrection and the resurrection of all, including Paul’s great statement: “Else what shall they do which are baptized for the dead, if the dead rise not at all? why are they then baptized for the dead?” (1 Cor. 15:29).
The engaged lawyer seemed comfortable. He presented our case effectively. We won our building permit. The chapel now stands in Glasgow, Scotland.

While helping a less-active member return to the Church, the member’s bishop reviewed the chapter on Church discipline in Handbook 1: Stake Presidents and Bishops. Then, after speaking with his stake presidency, the bishop decided to hold a disciplinary council.
“We met beforehand as a bishopric and reviewed the handbook to remind ourselves of proper procedures and to identify points relevant to the case at hand,” the bishop said. “We felt strongly the Spirit of the Lord assisting us as we conversed with the member.”
Later, after the bishopric had prayed for the Lord’s help, one of the counselors felt impressed that they should again read aloud the relevant portions of Handbook 1. When they had finished, the bishop asked each counselor what he recommended.
“Bishop, you might be surprised, but this is what I feel,” said the first counselor in making his recommendation. The second counselor felt the same, as did the bishop.
“Reading the handbook to each other allowed the Spirit to enlighten our minds,” the bishop recalled. “The principles became clearer as to how they related to this situation, and each of us was guided to the same answer. We were well prepared to provide appropriate counsel to help our dear brother come back to Christ.”

I sat on our front steps and thought my very hardest. The Twenty-fourth of July parade was just a week away, and I still didn’t know how I could win the fifteen-dollar prize for the best-decorated bike. There just had to be a way.
“Alex,” Mom called, “are you going over to help Sister Wilson this morning?”
“Yeah,” I answered, getting to my feet. “If she calls, tell her I’m on my way.”
As I walked over to Sister Wilson’s, all I could think about was winning the bike prize. I was saving money to buy my own bike. In fact, I’d already saved twenty dollars, but I still didn’t have enough for a bike. I really needed one, too, so I was in a real jam.
“Hello, Alex,” Sister Wilson called as I went up her walk. “Are you ready to go to work?”
I nodded. Sister Wilson was down on her hands and knees, pulling weeds from her flower bed. She had on her old straw hat and brown cotton work gloves. I don’t know why she wore them. The glove fingers had holes in them, and the band on her hat was gone. The hat brim was so ragged around the edge that her face was always freckled with bits of sunshine.
Once I asked her why she didn’t get a new hat and new gloves. She chuckled and said, “Oh, these will do me just fine. Besides, new ones cost too much.”
Sister Wilson was a widow, and she didn’t have much money. That’s why she couldn’t pay me for working. I didn’t mind, though, because she always gave me cookies and punch and told me stories.
“Are we pulling weeds today?” I asked.
“I am,” she answered, “but I have another chore for you.” She took me around the side of the house and back to the garage. She didn’t have a car, so she used the garage to store things in. The sunshine poured in as she opened the garage door.
“I want to get rid of a lot of this stuff and straighten up what’s left,” she said. “And I need a big strong boy like you to help me. Just bring everything outside and set it in the driveway, and I’ll look it over and tell you what to throw away and what I want to keep.”
I couldn’t believe all the good stuff Sister Wilson had in her garage. I found a real old army helmet, one like they used in the army way back before Dad was born. There was a leather bag full of marbles—real old ones. They looked like they were made out of hard clay. There was even an old record player with a big wide horn on top that looked like a giant morning glory. I laughed when I saw that.
I’d emptied most of the garage when I saw some handlebars poking out from behind a pile of boxes. When I pulled the boxes out, I saw a huge red bike with a wire basket fastened to it right behind the seat. The bike had big thick tires and wide fenders. It was kind of old-fashioned looking, not like any of my friends’ bikes.
Just then Sister Wilson came around the corner of the house. “Looks like you found Old Red,” she said with a grin.
“Old Red?” I asked.
“That’s what my husband always called it,” she explained. “When we had the drugstore down on Main Street, Brother Wilson used it to deliver prescriptions and things to folks who couldn’t get to the store. That bike’s been all over town, and it’s almost as old as I am.”
“I’ve never seen a bike quite like this, Sister Wilson.”
She laughed again. “No, I don’t suppose you have. I’ll bet it’s a lot bigger than your bike, isn’t it?”
I shrugged my shoulders and said, “I don’t have a bike. I’m hoping to buy one, though, as soon as I make some more money. And I’m going to try to borrow a bike to ride in the parade and maybe win the prize for the best-decorated bike.”
Sister Wilson pressed her lips together and straightened her hat. “There should be a tire pump in all this junk,” she said. “Let’s find it and pump up those tires and see if Old Red has any get-up-and-go after all these years.”
The pump was hidden way back in the corner under some old hip boots, so by the time we found it, we’d cleaned out the whole garage. I pumped up those old fat tires, and they still held air!
We found a wrench and put the seat all the way down. Then we oiled the chain and everything and pushed Old Red into Sister Wilson’s backyard. I had to roll it over to the back step so I could climb on. As soon as I had my leg over the bar, I pushed away from the step. I thought I was going to ride across the lawn, but all I did was fall over.
I tried again, and I fell over again. I don’t know how many times that old bike fell on me, but I finally got so I could turn the pedals and hold onto the handlebars without tipping over. The only problem then was that I needed to look at my feet to pedal, and while I was looking at my feet, I ran right into Sister Wilson’s apple tree.
I pushed that old bike back to the step and tried again. One time I ran into the back fence and scratched my face on the rose bushes. My pants got caught in the chain a couple of times, too, but I didn’t quit until I could ride Old Red all over the back lawn without falling or bumping into something.
“I hope I didn’t bang Old Red up too much,” I said as I pushed the bike back to the garage.
“Oh, I’m not worried about that. Nothing will hurt Old Red. I just hope you didn’t hurt yourself.”
The rest of the day I worked with Sister Wilson. Everything she wanted to keep was put back into the garage, and the rest of it was carried out to the curb for the garbage truck. When we were finished, Sister Wilson gave me some molasses cookies and milk and told me about when Brother Wilson rode Old Red around town.
The night before the Twenty-fourth of July, I was sitting on the front porch feeling real sad because I still hadn’t found a bike to ride in the parade. Mom poked her head out the front door and said, “Sister Wilson wants you to go over to her place for a few minutes.”
I walked over and knocked on her door.
“Hello, Alex,” she said with a smile as she opened the door. “Are you ready for the parade tomorrow?”
I shook my head. “I couldn’t find a bike. Everyone is riding his own bike in the parade.”
“How would you like to ride Old Red?” she said with a twinkle in her eye.
I followed her to the garage. She opened the door and said, “Do you think Old Red will win you anything?”
I couldn’t believe my eyes. Right in the middle of the garage was Old Red. It was all cleaned and fixed up fancier than I’d ever seen a bike. The wire basket behind the seat was made into a little covered wagon with a sign on the back that said: CROSSING THE PLAINS ON OLD RED. The back wheel had colored paper on it that made it look like a wagon wheel. Right in front of the handlebars was a big paper ox head, and the handlebars kind of looked like its horns. Some paper legs were fixed on both sides of the front wheel so that when the wheel turned it looked like the ox was running. I’d never seen anything like it.
“Do you think this will win you a prize?” Sister Wilson asked again with a laugh.
“You mean it’s for me?” I gasped.
“I surely wasn’t planning to ride it,” she said, still chuckling. “You’ve been helping me so much that I thought maybe I could help you.”
The next morning I pushed Old Red down to Main Street where the parade started and where the judges were. As soon as I got there, I knew Old Red was going to win. The other bikes looked nice with their paper streamers and colored wheels, but not one of them was as fancy as Old Red.
Mr. Peters gave me the blue ribbon and a check for fifteen dollars. He said I should ride Old Red at the front of the parade, right behind the flags. I was sure proud. Everybody stood and clapped and talked about what a fancy bike I had.
After the parade I took my check down to Bob’s Market to cash it. Later, when I rode Old Red up to Sister Wilson’s house, she was out on her front porch snapping green beans. “Well, congratulations,” she said and smiled.
I climbed off Old Red, leaned it against the porch, and placed a big brown paper sack in Sister Wilson’s lap.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“It’s for you,” I said. “It’s your part of the prize.”
She reached into the sack and pulled out a pair of brown gloves and a yellow straw hat with a blue ribbon around it. “But, Alex, you were going to use the money to help buy your bike.”
“I know,” I said, “but I decided I could wait for my bike. You need the gloves and hat. Your old ones are worn-out. I still have enough money to pay my tithing and some left over that I can save for my bike. Besides, just winning and riding at the head of the parade was good enough for me.”
Sister Wilson shook her head and thought for a minute. “You know, Alex, I was proud to see someone riding Old Red again. That old bike’s been pretty lonely out there in the garage by itself. I sure hate to put it back there.”
“Well, where do you want me to put it then?” I asked.
“This bike needs someone to take care of it and ride it and keep its tires pumped up and keep it from squeaking. Would you like to have Old Red?”
My mouth dropped open. I didn’t know what to say. “But, Sister Wilson, won’t you need it?”
She laughed. “I don’t ride bikes anymore, and Brother Wilson surely doesn’t need it. In fact, I’m sure he’d want you to have the bike.”
“But I couldn’t just take it. I mean, it’s your bike.”
Sister Wilson nodded her head. “I’ll tell you what. I have a few chores around here that need doing. If you’ll help me with those for the next couple of weeks, I’m certain you’ll have earned Old Red. Is that fair?” I nodded my head. “And in the meantime, you take care of it for me.”
I was so excited that all I could do was nod my head again as I climbed on my very own bike and rode home.

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

Helping establish a new branch of the Church was not a new experience for Elder Russell, who grew up in the mission field. “I was born in Salt Lake City, but we moved to Columbus, Ohio, when I was five years old,” he said. “We traveled in a Paige automobile on dirt roads, and it took two and a half weeks to get there. I would keep asking where we were going, and finally I asked, ‘Dad, can’t you find Ohio?’”

After the family had settled in Columbus, Elder Russell’s father had a nervous breakdown. “To restore my father’s health, we moved to a place called Salt Creek and camped there,” Elder Russell continued. “There were four of us: Father, Mother, my two-year-old brother, and myself. It was a very good time for me because my father and I spent a lot of time fishing and just being together. And although I was young, I had more responsibilities because of my father’s condition.
“That fall I went to school in Londonderry, Ohio, in a one-room schoolhouse where three grades met together. All summer long and into the fall I went barefoot—all the boys did. When the tall grass was mowed, the stubble hurt our feet, but we got used to it.”
Elder Russell said that after his father’s health was restored, his family moved back to Columbus. “My father organized the first branch of the Church there. We held our meetings in the loft of an old building, and it was one of my duties to help clean up the loft after parties held there by nonmembers the night before.”
Throughout his life Elder Russell had other responsibilities and jobs that taught him to work hard. “When I was twelve years old, I sold newspapers on a street corner in downtown Columbus, Ohio. I learned big-city ways, such as how to get the best corner for selling. I would pick up my papers, then run to beat the other boys and claim my turf.
“If it weren’t for such a strong family background in the Church and such good examples, I don’t know if I would have been as dedicated to the gospel. My father was a great man and an example of one who lived a life of service. He opened branches of the Church with his own money and paid the rent for meeting halls until the branches were established.
“My father taught me all the correct principles, including honesty. One time when my father and I were walking downtown, I saw a dime on the sidewalk. ‘Didn’t you see that dime?’ my father asked me.
“‘Yes,’ I said.
“‘Why didn’t you pick it up?’ he asked.
“‘Because it wasn’t mine,’ I answered.
“Because I often lived in communities where I was the only active member of the Church, I wanted to be as good an example of a righteous Latter-day Saint as I could. I tried to live in such a way that anyone watching me would be affected positively.
“As a young boy, I was very close to the missionaries. One of my most treasured possessions is a little New Testament that a missionary gave me when I was six years old. It was bound in leather and had the inscription, ‘To my friend Gardner for 100 percent attendance at Sunday School.’
“I hope that you children will have the courage to speak out about the gospel,” Elder Russell said, “and to do everything possible to be a good example so that others who see you will respect you. And talk about the Church. I’ve always made it a practice that if I’m with someone for fifteen minutes whom I’ve never met before, I will tell him something good about the Church. Out of the unnumbered times that I’ve done this, I’ve had only one poor experience. Sharing the gospel with others brings great happiness.”

Those years brought Dallin opportunities for great growth in Church service. He was called to be stake mission president for the Chicago Stake in 1961. His law practice had him working nights, and he wondered how he would be able to fulfill the responsibilities of the new calling as well, Sister Oaks recalls, but he took it on faith. As he committed himself to the calling, the way was opened many times for him to finish his legal work early, or to achieve more than he thought was possible in the time allotted.

In August of 2024, Samuel and members of his branch made the journey from The Gambia to Accra, Ghana. He was returning to the place where he began his missionary service so many years before, and where there is now a temple, so that he and his family could be sealed in the house of the Lord. They met their son Daniel there, who was returning home from his mission just in time for the sealing.
Besides the unspeakable joy of becoming an eternal family, Samuel experienced the additional sweetness and tender mercies of the Lord in a most special way. The president of the Accra Ghana Temple, who sealed Samuel and his wife and children, was John K. Buah, the very same missionary who had confirmed Samuel a member of the Church. And the incoming temple president, who will replace President Buah, is President Anthony M. Kaku, who baptized Samuel. According to Samuel, “God is the unfailing compass of our lives.”

In October of 2018, President Nelson traveled to South America, where he met with the president of Peru. Then, just as he had done in Colombia, he gathered with a small group of young men and young women before addressing almost 6,000 in a member devotional broadcast throughout the country. [32]

When he asked for questions one brave young woman spoke up: “What do I do if I am the only member in my family?” she said.

Her question was filled with doubt — about her status in the Lord’s kingdom and her ability to move forward without the same level of religious support many youth her age enjoy.

But President Nelson did not hesitate. He looked her in the eyes and said, “You and I are just alike.”

At first, I didn’t understand what President Nelson meant by that response. He is a world-renowned heart surgeon in his 90s who had just met with the president of Peru. She was a young girl, wondering if she was seen by the Lord.

President Nelson spoke of his own youth, where he was the only active member of the Church in his family. He asked the young woman to let God prevail in her life. “Your family and your friends will see the light of the gospel reflected in you,” he said. [33]

I was leaving junior high school, embarking on a new adventure riddled with unknown possibilities and, of course, filled with fun. Little did I know that the first few months of high school would feel disastrous and ultimately change my life.
It all started normally enough for a freshman. I felt small at this new, big school. Everything seemed twice as big, but it was nice knowing I was going through this with my friends. When we checked our class schedules, we saw that I didn’t have any classes with my friends. As the weeks passed, we drifted apart. Instead of the close relationship we’d once shared, I would be lucky to see the backs of their heads as they walked in another direction.
My lunch hour was miserable. I tried to make myself look busy, like making several unneeded trips to my locker to retrieve books I didn’t need, tying my shoes, or pretending to look for someone who would never be found. I guess I wasn’t very good at pretending, because my older brother, Shawn, noticed.
Since my childhood, Shawn was always there, whether it was teasing me incessantly or putting his arm around me after a bad day. He never really asked me what was wrong; he just knew. He started inviting me to eat lunch with him and his friends. When I was with him, he never ignored me. I remember him yelling, “Hey, Sis!” and walking over to put his arm around me.
Slowly I became stronger, and I became comfortable in my own skin. I realized I didn’t need my old friends to define who I was. I had my brother, my friend.

Heber J. Grant was the first President of the Church I had the privilege of meeting. He was truly a great man. We admired him because part of his strength was his great determination for self-mastery. His father died when he was only a year old, and his widowed mother struggled to raise him. He was conscientious in helping her and trying to take care of her.
“When he was older and wanted to join a baseball team, … the other [boys laughed] at him, … calling him a ‘sissy’ because he could not throw the ball between the bases. His teammates teased him so much that … he … made up his mind that he was going to play with the nine who would win the championship of the Territory of Utah. He purchased a baseball and practiced hour after hour, throwing at a neighbor’s old barn. Often his arm would ache so much he could hardly … sleep at night. He kept on practicing and … improving and advancing from one team to another until he finally [succeeded] in playing [on] the team that won the territorial championship!”

When a new dean was chosen to fill the post I had occupied here at BYU, I was anxious for the future of that division. For a quarter of a century I had prayed and worked with this stepchild of the University—the Extension Division of Continuing Education. The Lord poured out his blessings upon it over the years to make it one of the most respected extension programs among the institutions of higher learning in this country. There were several promising young men as candidates for the deanship. We could have honestly recommended several. In the office of the new and young president of Brigham Young University we discussed the choice. Then I heard President Oaks say, “This is a most important decision. I think we should kneel in prayer and ask the Lord for guidance.” I knelt down with him and another Ph.D., Vice-President Thomas. The prayer was simple and direct. He asked for light and discernment in whatever course of action we were about to take. And when we arose, I knew by the manifestations of the Spirit that the Lord would not fail us. I didn’t see the name of the next dean written on the wall, but I felt good about whatever might be done. I knew that we would not make a bad choice. And isn’t this feeling the most important blessing that God could give anyone? When President Oaks mentioned a name, we all agreed. And there was a good spirit present.

Now I’m just simple enough to believe that the Lord will stand by that feeling which he gives us. The new dean may stay a short or a long time. The blessings we ask for come in unexpected ways, but if the will of the Lord is done what is there to fear?

“I love the Personal Progress program. I have learned to do things I never knew I could,” says Mindy Sutton of the Twenty Wells Ward. Mindy believed a choir experience would help the youth in her Grantsville Utah Stake feel the Spirit in their lives, and Mindy needed a Laurel project. So she organized and directed a choir for stake Standards Night.
But the task wasn’t easy. Mindy says although she loves music, she has no natural ability. In fact, she was very discouraged after the first practice. “It was so hard to be in front of my peers trying to tell them what to do. But my stake leaders encouraged me to pray for help and promised the Lord would bless me.”
She went home and fasted and prayed. Her prayers were answered when the choir’s outstanding performance two months later not only brought the Spirit into the choir members’ lives but inspired those in attendance.
“I feel a lot closer to my Heavenly Father and know He has helped me so much,” Mindy says.

Like many other 16-year-old seminary students throughout the world, Kim Tae Whan, a Korean member, had studied Luke chapter 10, Christ’s parable of the Good Samaritan.
One morning Tae Whan asked his mother, “Mom, will you prepare for me another lunch today?” Mrs. Kim prepared another lunch, thinking that her son was growing so fast that he needed a little more to eat. Every day afterwards she would prepare an extra lunch for him to take.
One day Dr. Kim received a telephone call at work from a close friend.
“Hello, Dr. Kim. How is your family?
“They’re fine!” replied Dr. Kim cheerfully.
The two friends talked back and forth until Mr. Lee blurted out, “Are you sure your family isn’t having any problems lately?”
Pausing, Dr. Kim answered quizzically, “Why? What’s wrong?”
“Dr. Kim, I saw Tae Whan down on the corner selling newspapers the other day.”
“You saw what? Are you sure?”
“I’m positive! I was just concerned about your family’s welfare and wanted to check with you.”
Dr. Kim sat that afternoon in the office puzzled, wondering why Tae Whan would do such a thing and not say anything to anyone. That night after dinner, Dr. Kim quietly waited for the opportunity to talk to his son. Finally he said, “Tae Whan, could I speak to you for a minute?”
“Yes, Dad.”
“Son, I got a call today from Mr. Lee. He said he saw you downtown selling papers the other day. Is that true?”
Tae Whan answered sheepishly, “Yes, Dad, but I did it to help a classmate. He didn’t have a lunch so I’ve been giving my extra one to him. And for every paper we sell, we earn 40 won (8¢).”
“Son, why are you doing this? You should have asked me first.”
“But, Dad, every time I help my friend, I feel I’m becoming more like the Good Samaritan. Besides that, I want to help my classmates who aren’t as fortunate as I. I’m not really doing that much. I read about it in my seminary manual and felt it was the thing I ought to do.”
Tae Whan knows the meaning of the Savior’s commandment: “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind; and thy neighbour as thyself.” (Luke 10:27.)

A week or so later BYU lost to Clemson in the NCAA tournament. It was a heartbreaking loss. A few moments later as Devin showered and dressed, I sat watching Lamar play Oregon State. I forgot for a time the pain of the loss and was intensely interested in this new game. Devin came, and we walked to the lobby. Arriving there I said, “Devin, you go ahead and ride home with these people. I’ll go back in and watch the rest of this game.” It was then that he took me by the hand and said, “Pop, don’t go back in there. Come home with me.” I could see a longing look in his eyes as he said, “There are just some times when a guy needs his father.”
We walked out of the arena arm in arm. I’ve never been happier than to be with my son. As we moved farther away from the great basketball arena, we both knew it would be a long time before his legs would again send him high into the air, his wrist flick the ball, and the crowd cheer.
Devin’s winning spirit caused him to know that the people out there away from the crowd needed their Heavenly Father. His goal was to help them find that Father.

Robbie buttoned his jacket to the top and stuck his hands deep into his pockets as he turned to leave.
“Do you have enough money for your valentines?” his mother asked.
Robbie nodded, making the coins in his left pocket jingle.
“Remember to get enough for everyone in your class,” Mother cautioned. “And don’t forget your new teacher.”
Should I get a valentine for Miss Evers? he wondered. She’s just a substitute teacher.
Robbie was choosing some valentines from the drugstore card rack when two of his school friends came in.
“Hi, Steve, Rick,” Robbie greeted them.
“Any good ones left?” Steve asked.
“Lots of them,” Robbie answered.
“Maybe I’ll just get this package,” Rick decided, picking up a cellophane bag and reading: “Forty valentines with envelopes, plus one for Teacher.”
“I wish we knew Mrs. Davis’s address,” Robbie spoke up. “I bet she’d like to get some valentines from the class.”
“I have an idea!” Steve said excitedly. “We could all put cards in the valentine box for Mrs. Davis and ask the principal to take them to her.”
“That’s a great idea,” Rick agreed. “And we don’t have to worry about giving Miss Evers a valentine.”
Robbie frowned. He didn’t like Miss Evers very much, but he wondered if she’d be hurt when no one gave her a valentine.
“I might get one for both of them,” Robbie announced.
“How come?” Rick wanted to know. “Miss Evers isn’t really our teacher and it’s no fun being in her class.”
“I know,” Robbie admitted. “And I’ll be glad when Mrs. Davis is back, but—”
“But what?” Steve interrupted.
“Well, if I were a substitute teacher, I’d feel kind of bad if all the children brought valentines for the regular teacher and nobody gave one to me,” Robbie explained. “After all, Miss Evers has been our teacher for almost two weeks now.”
“But it’s her own fault that nobody likes her!” Rick argued. “She could at least smile once in a while.”
I wish she would smile, Robbie thought. Miss Evers is strict, all right, but at least she keeps the room quiet and makes sure we do our work.
When Robbie got home, he showed his mother the valentines he had picked out.
“Your friends at school will like these,” she said. “And I’m glad you bought one for each of your teachers. I know they’ll both appreciate them.”
After supper that night, Robbie signed and addressed his valentines. On Mrs. Davis’s card he added, “Get well soon!”
He wasn’t sure what he should put on Miss Evers’s card or even if he should sign his name. Finally he wrote, “I hope you have a happy Valentine’s Day!” and then he signed his name “Guess Who.”
The next afternoon Miss Evers placed the large red and white box on a table at the front of the room and removed the top. “We’ve finished our work for the day, and now it’s time to pass out valentines,” she announced.
Robbie’s heartbeat quickened as Miss Evers began to read off the names on each valentine. “Here’s one for Mrs. Davis,” she said. “I’ll see that she gets it. And here’s another one for her!” Soon there was a little stack of cards for Mrs. Davis.
“Marcia, Steve, Johnny, …” Miss Evers called as she passed out the valentines. Everyone seemed to be getting nearly an equal number—all but Miss Evers; she didn’t have any.
“Sharon, Robbie, Miss Evers—
Suddenly she stopped passing them out. “Miss Evers?” she echoed, a surprised look on her face. “How nice!”
Everyone was quiet as she opened the envelope. Robbie watched her expectantly.
“What a lovely valentine,” she said, smiling and holding it up. “And it’s from somebody named ‘Guess Who!’”
Robbie blushed as Steve and Rick looked at him.
“This is the nicest valentine I’ve received during all the years I’ve been a substitute teacher,” Miss Evers continued. She looked at the card again. “Thank you, ‘Guess Who,’ whoever you are!”
Miss Evers smiled a beautiful smile and it seemed to Robbie as though she were smiling right at him.

Jason Smyth, a member of the Londonderry Branch, Belfast Northern Ireland Stake, never dreamed of becoming a star athlete. In fact, the Northern Ireland teen always considered himself an average sportsman, perhaps even more so because he suffers from Stargardt’s disease, a hereditary condition that has destroyed all but his peripheral vision.
However, at 16, Jason’s hidden talent emerged and a PE teacher encouraged him to attend a sprinting training day. Eighteen months later Jason qualified for the Junior Commonwealth Games in Australia. The competition would be a turning point in his life.
“It was there I began to understand and realize what this was all about. For training so little and to qualify already, I just kind of thought I would like to make a career out of this,” says Jason.
Now, three years later, Jason has made quite the career. He has won the 100m and 200m races at both the 2006 Paralympic Games in Holland and the 2005 European Paralympic Championships in Finland, setting record times for both races in each competition. He also holds the Junior Irish record times for the 60m (6.91 seconds) and the 100m (10.61 seconds) races.
Despite such success, as a 19-year-old, Jason heeded the prophet’s counsel and applied to serve a mission. But, because of his visual impairment, his application was denied. Jason graciously accepted the decision and also accepted a new challenge: to find other ways to serve.
Jason’s success as a sprinter has opened less conventional forms of missionary work.
“I now have an opportunity to be a missionary in a different way—through sprinting,” says Jason.
He has found that rather than knocking on doors, he can bring the Church out of obscurity by sprinting past finish lines and setting new records, all the while setting a good example.
Already, Jason’s success has created a buzz as others find out about the Mormon sprinter who doesn’t train on Sundays and also abstains from tea, coffee, alcohol, and drugs.
His success has made him the subject of several media-related publications—including Ireland’s biggest newspaper. Many mention his Mormon lifestyle.
“When they get to know me, they know the way I live my life is different,” Jason says.
Jason competes in both outdoor and indoor competitions, so he trains virtually all year. His practices usually last up to two hours and are twice a day.
Then there’s the travel. In the last three years, Jason has visited countries such as China, Finland, Portugal, Sweden, Holland, and Hungary. Last spring he spent time training at Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah.
With increased success, doors continue to open for Jason. Last year he received an Irish Sport Grant, which enabled him to employ a full-time coach and secure sponsorships.
With each success, Jason has to give more time and energy. He understands what is expected of him. “It is my career,” he says.
Though training and racing keep him busy, Jason makes sure that his free time is reserved for his family, which Jason says is the root of his success.
“My family had a big part to play in the start. They encouraged me to keep up sprinting and see how I do. They take me to training and watch me race,” he says.
In addition, Jason also finds strength in the Church.
Although the Church is relatively small in Northern Ireland, Jason has inherited Irish pioneer heritage. His grandparents were baptized in Ireland in 1957, and his parents have remained strong in their membership.
Jason continues to build on this heritage. Even though he was the only member in his school, he graduated from seminary through independent study. He also finds time to serve as a branch missionary.
He credits his strong testimony of the gospel to his family, especially his parents.
“My parents taught us by example the way to live our lives,” he says.
Jason also mentioned that attending Church activities and socializing with friends who lived the same principles are another source of strength for him. “People at my branch are very supportive of me,” Jason says. “They like seeing me do well.”
As for his future, Jason’s long-term goal is to qualify for the London Olympics in 2012. But for now, Jason just wants to secure a second consecutive championship at the 2008 Paralympics in Beijing and to qualify for the Under-23 Championships in Hungary this July.
Jason says that one of his greatest achievements so far is making a life out of something he enjoys. He has learned to be self-sufficient and feels he has matured through his experiences.
“Being able to travel the world and getting paid to run—for me, nothing is better,” he says.
For Jason, the experience has been a powerful lesson that with a lot of hard work and dedication, anyone can achieve their dreams. “You just have to work hard if you really want it—and enjoy it as well,” he says.
For more on serving despite challenges, read “Determined to Serve,” New Era, Mar. 2007, p. 48.

Shortly after I was ordained a priest, Bishop Brooks came to me and said, “Our daughter, Linda, will soon be eight years old, and we would like to have you baptize her.” How proud I was to exercise my priesthood authority by baptizing my bishop’s daughter. Only in later years as a father myself did I really appreciate what Bishop Brooks had sacrificed—the privilege of baptizing his oldest child—so that one of his priests could have the opportunity to perform that sacred ordinance.