Gospel Story Finder

Seminary students in the Medicine Hat Alberta First, Second, and Third wards decided to do something special to better understand the Old Testament.
One morning each week, seminary students and leaders devoted time to building a replica of the tabernacle the Israelites built while they were in the wilderness. The students studied the scriptures carefully to make sure their building was accurate, although they built their tabernacle two-thirds the size of the one described in the scriptures. They also built the structures for the inside of the tabernacle described in the Old Testament.
This project served as a great way to learn a little more about the experiences of the Israelites. The students became very involved in reading the Old Testament as they were better able to see what was a so carefully described in the scriptures.

Another man attended a stake leadership meeting where the congregation was challenged to double their fast offerings; they were promised that their incomes would increase if they would do so. As this brother reported,
“I went home and discussed this promise with my wife. We were already paying a lot of fast offerings. We were willing to double the amount but did not want to do it for a selfish purpose. After prayer and consideration we decided to double our fast offerings. Not long after this, unexpected opportunities started coming to me in my work. After one year my income had significantly increased! We felt this was truly a blessing from the Lord—the fulfillment of a promise given to us by one of his servants.”

Mary Ann smoothed the pink dotted swiss fabric. “Just think, now that I’m almost twelve, I’ll have my first all-new dress for Easter!”
Mama smiled as she drew the black drip pan from the oven of the coal stove and tipped four steaming loaves of bread onto the table.
“It will be the prettiest dress I’ve ever made, Mary Ann. You’ve been so patient, never complaining,” Mama said.
Mama wrapped the hot loaves in a big white dish towel. “Do you think you can take these over to the Fitches without mashing them, dear?”
“I feel sort of funny taking things to Martha’s house. I don’t know how to talk to her.”
Mama sighed. “Martha needs a friend. I’ve noticed that none of the girls associate with her.”
“Do I have to take the whole batch? Don’t we even get to keep one loaf of hot bread for supper?”
“Now, honey, Sister Fitch is very sick. And Martha hasn’t learned how to make bread yet. I must have her over soon to teach her,” Mother continued half to herself. “She’ll have to feed that family. …”
“You mean her mother won’t ever get well?” Mary Ann cut in.
“I’m afraid not, and I’m sure Martha realizes this. That’s probably why it’s hard for her to talk. Now hurry with the bread so you’ll be back before dark.”
Mary Ann kicked pebbles all the way down the lane. The warmth of the bread felt good and its aroma made her hungry. This is all I do, she thought, carry good things from our kitchen to somebody else’s and then we have to skimp. I don’t think Mama could do her Relief Society president’s job without our help, she consoled herself.
The trill of a meadowlark perched on a fence post interrupted Mary Ann’s thoughts. And the trees along the ditch bank were breaking into a fresh spring green. They reminded her that Easter was next Sunday and that she would be wearing something new to church. Then she thought of Martha and an unhappy feeling crept over her.
As Martha opened the door, Mary Ann could tell that she had been crying.
“Mama thought you’d like a batch of fresh bread,” Mary Ann said, setting the bread on the kitchen table.
Martha leaned over and sniffed to get the full aroma. “Your mother always knows when we need something,” she said gratefully.
“Mama says you must come over and let her teach you how to make bread,” Mary Ann said brightly, trying to be friendly. Then another thought struck her, as she added, “You do have something else to eat, don’t you?”
“Oh yes, Mama told me how to make soup out of potatoes and onions from our pit.” She rubbed her hands nervously down the front of her dress. “I can’t cook very well, but I’m learning.”
A sound came from the bedroom and Martha turned to go. “Mama’s calling. Tell your mother thanks for the bread.”
Mary Ann slipped out of the door and hurried home.
Next day Mama cut out the pink Easter dress, and Mary Ann could hardly contain her excitement.
After supper when her sisters were all around the big kitchen table doing their homework in the warmth of the stove, Mary Ann watched her mother fit the last pieces of her dress together. “Now,” she said, “let’s go try it on.”
Mary Ann put down her book and slipped into the bedroom where she wiggled into a cloud of pink and white softness.
Just then, there was a knock at the kitchen door. “Mama!” her sister Liza called, “It’s Brother Fitch. He wants to see you.”
Mama hurried away while Mary Ann peered into the dresser mirror. She draped the fragile white lace around the high neck and drew the pink satin ribbon around her waist. The dress was beautiful!
When Mama returned, she was untying her apron with one hand and smoothing her hair with the other. “Take the dress off, honey. Sister Fitch has taken a turn for the worse. I’ll go with Brother Fitch and I may not be back tonight.” Mama put on her warm shawl and was gone.
Next morning Liza got breakfast ready, and Papa came in from his chores to help get the girls off to school. Mama had been up all night with Sister Fitch, and when Martha wasn’t at school, Mary Ann was really worried.
After school the five girls burst into the kitchen to find Mama treadling away on the sewing machine, the pink dress nearly completed. The aroma of chickens stewing filled the room. “Ummm!” they chorused. “Chicken and noodles for dinner.”
“Try on your dress, Mary Ann, and let’s see if it fits,” Mama said. “I’m anxious to finish it.” Then she paused and said more quietly, “Sister Fitch died early this morning, and I must make a white burial dress for her.”
“Oh, no!” Mary Ann cried. “That’s why Martha wasn’t at school today.”
“We’ll all have to pitch in and help now,” Mama said. “Liza, would you please stir up some noodles and roll them out for the stewed chicken and Mary Ann can take a pot of soup over to the Fitches for their supper. Tonight, Mary Ann, you can sew the lace on your dress while I cut out a dress for Sister Fitch. Her funeral will be Friday.” The girls could tell by looking at Mama’s eyes that she had already done her weeping alone.
That evening Mary Ann stitched the lace carefully around the high neck and the long full sleeves of her Easter dress. The white fabric was laid out on the big table. Only the click of scissors broke the stillness. Everyone was in bed except Mary Ann and Mother.
“The funeral is the day after tomorrow, Mary Ann, and I’m sure that gray dress is the best one Martha has. I wish I had material and time to make her a new one.”
Mary Ann hugged her new dress to her cheek a moment. She had been thinking of Martha even before Mama mentioned her. Finally she spoke. “Mama, I’d like to do something special for Martha. Would it be all right if I gave her my new pink dress? We could add some lace to my white one and it would be really pretty.”
Love shone in Mama’s eyes as she replied, “That would be very nice, dear, and I’m proud that you suggested it.”
In spite of her decision, Mary Ann swallowed a lump in her throat as she silently finished sewing the lace on the pink Easter dress.
On Friday when Martha followed the coffin into the small church with her father and brothers, Mary Ann caught her breath. “Isn’t she beautiful, Mama?” she whispered.
The delicate pink seemed to bring color to Martha’s pale face in spite of her sadness, and her dark hair fell in soft curls on her neck. Martha saw Mary Ann’s look of admiration and a shy half-smile lighted her sad face. Mary Ann nodded, then turned to her mother and whispered, “I hope she never knows who the dress was made for, and I won’t mind not having a new dress—I think I’ve found a new friend.”

It was game day in Vidor, Texas. There were signs up around town wishing the high school team good luck. Students, teachers, and administrators were wearing black and gold, the school colors. Everyone was positive and upbeat. They just didn’t mention that Vidor High had little chance of winning.
Because Vidor High School is in a region with much larger schools, it doesn’t win very often on the football field or on the basketball court, but that doesn’t affect the students’ attitudes.
They know what true winning is all about.
“We’re always up and looking for the good things,” says Rebecca Packard, student-body president. “Our spirit is awesome,” says Mollie Hoosier. “Everyone knows that about Vidor High.”
That attitude of looking for ways to win in life instead of in competition may be influenced by the student officers at Vidor High School. This past year, the LDS students (numbering 75 in a total of about 1,500) have been the leaders in the school. The student-body president, each class president, and many of the student council members are LDS. These young Mormons want to make a difference in their school and use their influence for good among their peers.
It’s a little unusual to find a school’s student leadership so dominated by LDS students in an area of the United States outside of Utah. But these young people have learned how to make the most out of high school and support each other in staying true to gospel teachings. Their friends at school can’t help but notice, and it’s making a difference in big ways and in little things.
For example, drinking, especially at weekend parties, was a big problem for their peers, so some of the LDS students started throwing their own parties and inviting everyone, as long as they followed the house rules.
“Dad announces the rules at our house,” says Priscilla Packard. “No tobacco; no alcohol; you have to be 14 to attend the party; no pairing off in the corners; and absolutely nobody outside in the cars. Then we dance, and talk, play games, and have contests to see who can do the most back flips in a row. One guy from school who had never been to one of our parties before said, ‘Wow, there’s no alcohol here, and I’m still having fun.’” The parties given by the LDS students are popular with everyone because it isn’t just the same old thing.
Then the LDS students have changed some small things, like the way the kids at their school slow dance. Instead of bear hugging as their schoolmates were doing at school dances, the Mormon kids chose to dance using the usual waltz position. It even became known as dancing “Mormon style.”
“It makes dancing more casual,” explained Brandie Carner. “You hesitate to ask people to dance when you don’t know if they are going to hang on you.”
“You can talk easier,” added Natalie Fawcett. “You’re more at ease.”
“It has changed at school,” said Brandie. “We had a school dance just the other week, and everyone was dancing Mormon style.”
How do you let your friends know your standards? A group of LDS students, who were talking about their high school, groaned in unison. The answers came fast and in a jumble. “Oh, everyone already knows. They know by what you do. They know because of our older brothers and sisters.” Voices overlapped, with several people explaining at once how they always had to be an example, because if they did something they weren’t supposed to, someone was sure to comment, “I didn’t know you Mormons did things like that.”
The reputation of what an LDS student is like precedes them. “The teachers know what to expect,” says Veronica Jenkins. “They know the Mormon kids will work hard and try to get good grades.”
“And if you slack off,” adds Brandie, “they’ll call your parents. Teachers know the Mormon parents care.”
The LDS students try to be good examples, and some of their fellow students can’t help but notice and want to know more. “I was always associating with them,” said Erika Redfield. “It was the example I noticed. Mormons seemed to always be sensitive to other people’s feelings. They were never fake or dishonest.”
When Erika was thinking about her future, planning her education and what she wanted to do, she felt a hole in her religious life. She called one of the LDS girls she knew at school and started asking about things her friend believed. Soon she was investigating the Church with the missionaries. Erika said, “My testimony came really slow at first, but every time I read something, I prayed about it. I had the feeling that it was true. Whenever I found the truth, I wanted to hear more.” But it wasn’t easy. Friends and acquaintances made sure she was well supplied with anti-Mormon literature. “I don’t know how I stood up to it all.” But Erika had found what she was looking for and was baptized.
Now Erika feels very much a part of the LDS group. “The peer group at school is awesome. They try hard to make you fit in. I could never repay them,” Erika says pausing, “but no one asks for anything in return.”
That’s part of the secret the LDS students at Vidor High have for sharing the gospel. They try to be friends with everyone. “There are lots of people out there who aren’t LDS who are good people,” says Priscilla Packard. “Like Erika. Even before she joined the Church, she was a great person. Find those good friends and socialize with them.”
And they try not to be obnoxious about letting their friends know what they believe. Here are some of their suggestions about letting your classmates know about the Church:
Molly Hoosier: “Don’t start by telling them that our church is the only true church. They think we’re being conceited and rude to them. And don’t put down other religions.”
Elizabeth Williamson: “Don’t ever start arguing. You have to stand up for the Church, but don’t get into an argument.”
Spencer Simpson: “Don’t get into far-out subjects.”
Priscilla Packard: “Take it slowly. Sometimes the thought of talking to missionaries is too intimidating. It makes them too nervous. Talk to them about the Church just as a friend.”
Erika Redfield: “Just in conversation, don’t make yourself seem superior to them just because you don’t do the things they do.”
Natalie Fawcett: “Stay away from parties and things that could be trouble. Stay strong.”
And most of all, these students agree, it’s important to live a life that illustrates what you believe. Example cannot be underrated. It speaks much louder than words.
Erika is telling the group about a boy in one of her classes who is getting ready to be baptized. When she tells them who it is, Spencer is amazed. He says, “I sat by him yesterday. That goes to show you that you have to be an example all the time because you never know what it will mean to the person next to you.”
It means something special to be LDS at Vidor High. It means something significant to be a good example. Student-body president Rebecca says, “At school, it’s cool to be good.”
And with an attitude like that, everyone can be a winner.
William and Joissine Williamson took a Mr. Busley into their home as a boarder. While living with them he talked a lot about his past and meeting the Mormons. He said Brigham Young was a good and wise leader. Mr. Williamson listened and did some thinking and finally way off in Texas in the early 1900s, he decided that if he ever got the chance he would join that church.
At noontime on January 9, 1900, two Mormon missionaries wearily made their way up the long lane that led to the Williamsons’ front door. William, looking out the window, exclaimed, “Them’s my men!”
When William and Joissine were baptized, their posterity, all nine children, were heirs to their conversion. They formed a small but united group amid great prejudice.
Their descendants make up the majority of the LDS students at Vidor High School.
Here’s some advice from the LDS students at Vidor High about getting more involved in high school:
Join different types of clubs. You never know how much fun you’ll have if you don’t join in.
Meet all different kinds of people. Don’t be with one person all the time.
Run for student offices. Peter LaPray says, “Don’t let anyone run unopposed. Run just for the fun of it, no matter if you win or not.”
Keep your grades up. Don’t procrastinate. Turn assignments in on time.
Take school seriously. Have fun, but remember you have to plan your schedule carefully, so when it’s time to graduate you’ve completed the classes you need.
Learn to set goals and finish them. Earn your Young Womanhood Medallion or your Eagle Scout Award. Maintain your standards at all costs.
Support other groups who are doing good things.

Last year in my fourth-grade class there was a boy whom nobody respected. At lunch our table always got really crowded, and no one would scoot over for him. I knew that this wasn’t right, so whenever he asked me to scoot over, I did. One day one of my friends asked, “Why do you always scoot over for him?” I answered, “That’s what I’d like someone to do for me.” I know that when I scooted over he appreciated it. I felt good inside too, because I believe that it was what Jesus would have done.

A little while ago, my bishop invited our ward to think of some weakness or sin that we could figuratively leave at the sacrament table for Jesus Christ to take away. There are sins I’ve carried with me throughout my young adult life that I’ve tried to conquer but haven’t been able to overcome through prayer or my own willpower. Despite my growth throughout the years, I knew I needed to overcome them to continue progressing.
The Sunday after the bishop’s challenge, I decided that I would leave just one of my sins on the sacrament table, a physical representation of the Savior and His atoning sacrifice. As I prepared to take the sacrament, I remembered that the cloth covering it represented His burial cloth, and the bread and water represented His body and blood.
With sincerity and full purpose of heart, I renewed my baptismal covenants and said a prayer in my heart, asking Heavenly Father for help and making a commitment to leave this sin behind. Then something happened I never expected: my desire to sin completely left. I tried this a few more times, and the same thing happened with other sins. Was it too good to be true?
The next week, I knew what sin I wanted to leave at the sacrament table, but I didn’t feel ready to give it up. Looking back, I realize that my heart wasn’t in the place it needed to be. I wasn’t being sincere enough to commit to change. But I realized how much the sin hurt Heavenly Father. I knew I needed to align my will with His and center my life around Him to become free. So I did my best to make that a reality.
I avoided any temptation that could lead to this sin. I changed the way I read my scriptures every day and truly pondered them and applied them to my life. I focused on being sincere in my commitment to change, and I sought every day to seek the Lord’s will over mine. I put Him first, because I knew I couldn’t leave this sin behind without the power of the Savior’s Atonement. By continuing to put Him first, I was able to surrender this sin at the sacrament table. I was finally free from something that had held me back for so many years.
Through this process, I grew closer to my Heavenly Father and my Savior. I imagined Them looking down on me for all of these years with patience and love—knowing, eventually, I would give up the sins that spiritually hampered my progress. And when I was ready to give them up, Jesus Christ would be there to lift me—to take me by the hand and grant me forgiveness and strength. He already provided a way for me to become free from my sins through His Atonement. He paid the price for my weaknesses, mistakes, and sins. I just needed to trust Him.
During this time, I read some words from Elder Richard G. Scott (1928–2015) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles that gave me the little push I needed: “If your life is in disarray and you feel uncomfortable and unworthy … , don’t worry. He already knows about all of that. He is waiting for you to kneel in humility and take the first few steps. Pray for strength. . . . Pray that the love of the Savior will pour into your heart.”1
When we sang “I Stand All Amazed” (my favorite hymn) the next week, each word rang true; I really was amazed—in awe that the things I had struggled with for more than a decade were taken from me. In awe that through the power of the Savior’s Atonement, I could move forward. That He can heal all sins and wounds and leave no trace of them behind. That I didn’t need to be held back by my past.
I still have so much to learn and overcome, but my life is on an upward course. I’m feeling more joy and peace. I’m expressing more gratitude. I’m coming closer to and strengthening my testimony of Heavenly Father and the Savior. Every day that I choose to try again, I come one step closer to Them and the person They know I can be.

Tyler loved tomatoes. He loved their bright red color and smooth skin. He loved the way their seeds spurted out when he bit into them. He loved to dip tiny tomatoes into salt, and he loved the big ones sliced thin in sandwiches.
“Let’s grow some tomatoes in our yard,” Tyler’s dad suggested one day.
“Could we?” Tyler was surprised. He’d never thought of growing tomatoes at home. He thought it would be wonderful to have his very own supply of tasty tomatoes ready to pick whenever he felt like it.
Tyler and his dad chose a sunny spot to plant the tomatoes. Then they dug and prepared the soil until it was loose and fine. While they were working, Mr. Bradley leaned over the back fence. “Going to have some pretty flowers?” he asked.
“Oh, no, Mr. Bradley. This is for my tomatoes,” Tyler told him.
“Humph!” Mr. Bradley growled, frowning. “I’ve never had any luck growing tomatoes here.”
“Dad says we can,” Tyler answered, and he kept raking the ground to make it smooth.
The next morning Tyler and his dad planted six tiny green tomato plants. Tyler watered them carefully. In just a few days they looked bigger. “See, Mr. Bradley,” Tyler said, pointing proudly to his plants, “they’re growing.”
“Just wait, Tyler, just wait,” Mr. Bradley replied smugly.
In several weeks Tyler’s tomato plants blossomed with dozens of star-shaped yellow flowers. “I’m going to have hundreds of tomatoes,” he predicted.
“Don’t count your chickens before they hatch,” Mr. Bradley told him.
Soon tiny, hard green tomatoes replaced the yellow blossoms. Tyler’s mouth watered as he watched them grow into large tomatoes. Morning and night he checked the plants, hoping to find a ripe tomato. One morning he thought one of the plants seemed smaller. The next day he was sure it had lost some leaves. And the following day it looked scraggly and thin. Tyler noticed some small black droppings under the plant too.
He knelt on the ground and examined all of his plants, leaf by leaf. He studied the shriveled one very carefully. Suddenly he jumped up and hollered, “Wow! Dad, Dad, come quick! There’s a dragon out here.”
A large green worm the size of a thick, round pea pod was greedily munching the leaves of Tyler’s wilted tomato plant. It really did look like a miniature dragon as it inched its fat, segmented body along the stem of the plant, waving the little “horns” on the top of its head from side to side as it moved. It seemed to eat as much as a dragon, too, devouring every leaf in its path.
“How did you ever find it, Tyler?” Dad asked. “That worm is so well camouflaged that it looks just like part of the stem. Only really sharp eyes could have seen it.”
Mr. Bradley leaned over the fence to see what all the excitement was about. “Better spray,” he advised. “The pests get all the prizes, I always say. Give ’em a shot of bug spray—that’s what they deserve.”
“I think we’ll try the old-fashioned method first,” Dad said. He carefully picked the worm off the tomato plant. “Now, Tyler, you check the plants every day, and if you notice any other worms, take them off and kill them. They should be easier to spot now that you know what to look for. Be careful, though—their bite might not be dangerous, but it could sure hurt.”
“Found any more dragons?” Mr. Bradley asked the next time Tyler was out watering.
“Nope,” Tyler answered, “but the tomatoes are finally turning red. Look!” The plants sagged under the weight of the plump tomatoes—some still green, some pale yellow, and some a promising orange.
Finally the day came. “This one is ready, isn’t it, Dad?” Tyler asked as they inspected a big red tomato.
“You bet, and it’s all yours. You grew it, and you get to eat it.”
Tyler gently twisted the tomato from its stem and washed it carefully with water from the hose. Then he sat down on the lawn and took a big bite. Still warm from the sun, the tomato burst in his mouth, spurting juice and seeds down his chin and onto his jeans. Tyler grinned with pleasure.
“Ummm! It’s so good!” he exclaimed, wiping his chin between bites. “Next week, after I eat a few more myself, I’ll pick some for Mr. Bradley. Maybe next year he’ll want to grow tomatoes too.”

At the same time, many Congolese emigrants found the Church in Europe and the United States. Mbuyi Nkitabungi was baptized in Belgium in 1980, served a full-time mission in England, and then felt prompted to return home in 1985. “One of my righteous objectives is to build … Zion in the heart of Zaïre,” he wrote to Church headquarters. “I know there is quite a few members from my country who are waiting for that opportunity. … Tell me everything I have to do.”
Nkitabungi was put in contact with other members in Kinshasa, who met in the home of Mike and Katie Bowcutt, an American couple. Like Nkitabungi, many members were Congolese Saints who had joined the Church abroad. Because the Church was still not legally recognized, however, the members held no public meetings. Nevertheless, the group quickly outgrew the Bowcutts’ home and moved their meetings to Nkitabungi’s garage.
In February 1986, the president of the country promised during a broadcast on state-run television that he would grant the Church legal recognition, and members soon began preaching the gospel openly. That same month, Ralph and Jean Hutchings, the first missionaries called to Zaïre, arrived and found a growing group in Kinshasa. Recognition was granted officially in April, and by June 1987 the Church was growing so quickly in Zaïre that a mission was organized, with Ralph Hutchings as president.
Missionaries also reached out to the unofficial congregations near Lubumbashi. Although the transition proved difficult for some, a second center of strength soon emerged. Between May and July 1987, 170 people were baptized. Some were traveling as far as 300 kilometers (186 miles) from Pweto, Kolwezi, and Likasi to attend meetings.
When 21-year-old Elie Monga of Kolwezi read the Book of Mormon in 1987, he was impressed. “I strongly felt,” he later said, “that that’s what I need.” Monga traveled the 300 kilometers to Lubumbashi to meet with the missionaries. After only one discussion, he decided to be baptized. After his baptism, with encouragement from missionaries, he held Sunday School meetings in his home. “We started gathering and teaching our friends [and family],” he said, “bringing them the message of hope through the restored gospel.” A large group was soon meeting in Monga’s home. When the first baptismal service in Kolwezi was held the next year, it took more than three and a half hours for Monga to baptize the 82 converts who had accepted the gospel. It was one success among many: in 1990, just four years after the Church received government recognition, branches and districts were thriving in Kinshasa, Lubumbashi, and many other cities throughout the country.

Illustration by Corey Egbert
One day my missionary companion and I were given a referral to teach a man who lived in a village called Tema, near the beautiful city of Accra, Ghana. The numbering of the houses in that village was not quite accurate, so we were given a written description to help us locate the house.
When we arrived in the village, we followed the directions but could not find the man because there seemed to be many houses that fit that same description. Feeling confused, we decided to knock on doors in the neighborhood to ask, but no one seemed to know the man we were looking for. I had the prompting to ask Heavenly Father for help.
After we prayed, I had the feeling that we would find the man we were looking for, so we intensified our efforts. Still, we did not find him. We got tired and decided to return to our proselyting area because we had other appointments. When we got to the taxi park, the taxi driver who had brought us to the village saw the disappointed looks on our faces and asked if we had found who we were looking for. Our answer was, of course, no.
He suggested we go inside a school that stood on the corner and ask there. We told him that was not the description we had been given, but he insisted. We got out of the taxi and headed to the school—not because we thought we would find anyone, but just to please our concerned friend.
As we started walking toward the administration building at the school, a little boy came running in our direction. He smiled and told us that he and his brother were the only members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints living in this area and that he could help us.
My companion and I looked at each other in disbelief. It was a miracle. The boy helped us find the man we were looking for, and eventually he accepted the gospel and was baptized.
This experience taught me that Heavenly Father answers prayers in His own time and in His own way. When we do not get immediate answers to our prayers, we can exercise faith in Him and learn to be patient.

Illustration by George Ermos
Vern’s eyes snapped open as he woke up. Today would be the day. He just knew it! He jumped out of bed and hurried to the back door.
Vern flung open the door and stepped onto the porch. The cold cement stung his bare feet.
There was the bench, just like normal.
And there on the bench was … nothing at all. No model airplane, just like normal.
Vern’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t understand,” he muttered. “Am I praying wrong or something?”
He went back inside and poured a bowl of cereal. Does Heavenly Father answer prayers, or not? he wondered.
As he ate his breakfast, Vern thought back to a few weeks ago, when he went to church for the first time. The teacher who taught the lesson said that you can pray about anything at anytime, anywhere. Heavenly Father always hears your prayers! Vern felt warm and happy inside as the teacher talked about prayer.
So he started praying! Each night he prayed for what he wanted more than anything else—a model airplane. “Please put it on the bench on the back porch,” he’d pray. And for two weeks now, he had run out to check the porch every morning. But the plane never appeared.
Vern finished his breakfast and got ready for the day. On his way to school, he couldn’t stop thinking about prayers and airplanes. As he walked past an empty field, something caught his eye. Someone had thrown away a couple of old wooden fruit crates.
Maybe I can build a plane out of those, he thought.
All day at school Vern imagined what kind of plane he could build with the crates. Pretty soon his notebook was full of drawings of his ideas.
After school, Vern ran back to the empty field as fast as he could. He picked up one of the crates and carried it home.
First he pulled out all the nails and stacked the boards on the ground. Then he got the old saw and kitchen knife Mom let him use as tools. He was carefully cutting one of the boards into the shape of an airplane wing when Mom got home from work.
“What’s that?” Mom asked.
“An old crate,” he said. “I’m using it to build a model plane!”
Mom looked impressed. “That sounds like a great idea.”
Every day after school, Vern worked on his airplane. Little by little, he kept shaping the wood. He didn’t have anybody to show him what to do. But somehow he always figured out what to do next.
Vern was grinning widely when he showed his mom the finished model.
“Wow!” Mom said. “You did this all by yourself?”
He nodded. The plane had turned out even better than he’d hoped!
As Vern showed Mom all the cutting, sanding, and nailing he’d done, he suddenly realized something. His prayers had been answered after all! They just hadn’t been answered the way he was expecting. Instead of giving him a plane, Heavenly Father helped him figure out how to build his own. Prayer did work.
That evening, Vern took his airplane outside and set it on the bench. “Heavenly Father, thanks for helping me make this plane,” he prayed. “I promise to take good care of it!”
When Vern grew up, he fixed and flew planes for a living. He knows God guided his life all along, including his love and understanding of airplanes.

When Loniana Fifita wants to make changes in the world, she begins with recognising her passion, and being mindful of those around her, then starts using her skills and talents wisely.
Along the way, she seeks to align her plans with what God wants her to do, accomplishing what He has given her the talents and opportunities to do. And above all, she does it with love.
The United Nations Youth Day on 12 August had the theme, “Youth Engagement for Global Action”—seeking to highlight the ways in which the engagement of young people at all levels is enriching institutions and processes, and thereby enhancing youth opportunities for influence.
Loni’s talents and love have changed the world for many Tongan children who now have access to a public library—the first in the country.
Loniana Fifita is a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Auckland, New Zealand. She was born in Ha’apai Tonga and moved to Auckland with her family when she was nine years old.
Loni has been engaged as a youth advocate since she was 15 years of age. She served as a youth representative on the Maungakiekie-T?maki local board, one of the 21 local boards of the Auckland Council.
While attending University of Auckland, Loni also served on the Auckland Council Youth Advisory panel, working alongside Auckland mayor at the time, Len Brown.
With her focus and passion on youth, she explained, “I wanted to make my area [Maungakiekie—T?maki] liveable . . . because that's the whole purpose of council.”
Loni started looking at projects and preventions for many issues facing Pacific youth. She kept asking herself, “What can I do?”
Because of the rising number of social issues in the community, she joined a passionate group of community change makers in creating initiatives to help solve social issues concerning youth. One of the key initiatives was “Phenomenal Young Women” which focused on building young women’s well-being in all aspects of life.
Phenomenal Young Women creates “safe spaces for young women in T?maki to connect, grow well-being, feel confident to try new things, and have fun.”
These experiences, Loni’s connections within the local and city councils, and her ability to connect with people, prepared her to be the librarian at the local board’s library in T?maki. But when approached about taking that post, she hesitated.
Loni has always wanted to work as a humanitarian. She never thought she would be a librarian, and she didn’t go to the library when she was young.
“I felt like Heavenly Father just handed me opportunities, but I was trying to ignore it, because it was not part of me,” she said.
“You know how you have your own plan, and He gives you His plan?”
After praying and fasting about it, she decided to take the position.
“My dream was to be a humanitarian, and this was the door to it,” Loni reflected. “Working in the library, I always wanted to give back . . . but I didn’t see the [opportunity] until Cyclone Gita hit [Tonga].”
It was in the aftermath of Cyclone Gita, that Loni’s engagement on the national level began. Being a librarian and also Tongan, and well-known for her work in the T?maki community, she was asked to help establish the first public library in her beloved island nation of Tonga and serve as the first librarian.
With schools and educational resources destroyed, Loni worked tirelessly with founders, Kahoa and Brendon Corbett, as donations of thousands of books from over 50 Auckland Council libraries, as well as computers, and even bicycles, were brought to the renovated community fale (centre).
The library opened in October 2019, in the village of Kolovai, with plans for a second library underway in a nearby town.
Loni paid her own fare on her trips to Tonga, lived by herself, and donated her time and talents to establish the library. She started weekend English classes, children’s programs, computer and family history classes, job application skills classes, and even bicycle rentals.
She says, “Tongans now understand that a library is more than a building—it is a safe place for growth and development, connections, and learning for many different reasons.”
For Loni, the definition of humanitarian is: “Love for humanity, doing things for the well-being of the human being without price . . . no matter what it is . . . or where [people] are from, or what their circumstances are. And so, my drive for humanitarian projects is the pure love that service brings.”
“Being a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is one of the greatest things,” says Loni. “If I didn’t have it, I wouldn’t understand my Heavenly Father’s plan and my plan, to align [them] together and it will be bigger than what I think it could be.”
UN Youth Day is an opportunity to celebrate and reinforce the achievements of young people. Loniana Fifita’s accomplishments and achievements are great examples of what a young person can achieve with passion, talent, and lots of love.

President David O. McKay tells of a singular event that happened to him. After falling asleep, he said he “beheld in vision something infinitely sublime.” He saw a beautiful city, a great concourse of people dressed in white, and the Savior.
“The city, I understood, was his. It was the City Eternal; and the people following him were to abide there in peace and eternal happiness.
“But who were they?
“As if the Savior read my thoughts, he answered by pointing to a semicircle that then appeared above them, and on which were written in gold the words:
“These Are They Who Have Overcome the World—Who Have Truly Been Born Again!
“When I awoke, it was breaking day.” (Cherished Experiences from the Writings of President David O. McKay, comp. Clare Middlemiss, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1976, pp. 59–60.)

As a young man living in Kirtland, Ohio, Lorenzo Snow, fifth president of the Church, was converted and baptized in 1836. He had studiously and conscientiously compared the teachings of the missionaries with the teachings of the Savior. Becoming convinced of the truths of the gospel, he had sought baptism by immersion.

Following confirmation, he constantly anticipated an assurance that he had received the Holy Ghost. Two or three weeks following his baptism, he reflected that he had not yet received a testimony of the truth. Being uneasy, and laying aside his books, he left the house and wandered through the fields. A gloomy spirit and indescribable cloud of darkness seemed to envelop him. It was his custom, near the close of day, to retire to a nearby secluded grove and engage in secret prayer. This night he had no inclination to do so. The spirit of prayer had departed, and the heavens seemed like brass over his head. But, determined not to forgo his evening practice, he sought his accustomed place and knelt in solemn prayer.

“I had no sooner opened my lips in an effort to pray,” recalled President Snow, “than I heard a sound, just above my head, like the rustling of silken robes, and immediately the Spirit of God descended upon me, completely enveloping my whole person, filling me, from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet, and O, the joy and happiness I felt! No language can describe the almost instantaneous transition from a dense cloud of mental and spiritual darkness into a refulgence of light and knowledge. … I then received a perfect knowledge that God lives, that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, and of the restoration of the holy Priesthood, and the fulness of the Gospel. It was a complete baptism—a tangible immersion in the heavenly principle or element, the Holy Ghost; and even more real and physical in its effects upon every part of my system than the immersion by water.” (Eliza R. Snow, Biography and Family Record of Lorenzo Snow, p. 8.)

In this manner Brother Snow received comforting assurance as the Spirit of the Lord came upon him, and the Holy Ghost blessed him with a testimony that remained with him to the close of his earthly existence.

Many years ago Brigham Young told of an early missionary in the Church who was asked to share his testimony with a large group of people. According to President Young, this particular elder “never had been able to say that he knew Joseph [Smith] was a Prophet.” He would have preferred to just say a prayer and leave, but the circumstances made that impossible. So he started to speak, and “as soon as he got ‘Joseph’ out, ‘is a Prophet,’ was … next; and from that, his tongue was loosened, and he continued talking until near sun-down.”
President Young used this experience to teach that “the Lord pours out His Spirit upon a man, when he testifies that [which] the Lord gives him to testify of” (Millennial Star, supplement, 1853, 30).

Bill Hoagland watched through the window as the supply plane approached the tiny island that would be his home for 12 months. Just a dot in the water, he thought, lost in mile after mile of waves. He knew the navigation station was vital to the U.S. Coast Guard, and he knew his job as hospital corpsman on the island would be important too. “Maybe I can get so involved in my work that time will pass quickly,” he thought again. “But look at the island. It’s so small … and what about my wife and the baby?”
Tires screeched on packed coral and sand, grabbing for a hold on the runway. Then there was a whirr as the sound of the motor caught up with the braking plane. Soon Bill was talking to new acquaintances, discovering what men do on Tern Island, one of the French Frigate Shoals 500 miles northwest of Hawaii. Mostly they tried to make time pass more quickly. Of course, there were movies, swimming, and hobbies like collecting glass balls that break from fishing fleet nets and drift ashore. There were weekly steak fries and Ping-Pong tournaments, but nothing to remind anyone about home, except letters that arrived once a week on the supply plane.
Bill went to the barracks to unpack. He shook a book out of his seabag, and fresh memories crowded in on his mind. Before leaving San Diego, California, he and his wife had heard a broadcast from one of the wards of the local Mormon church. Both had been impressed, not just by the speakers and their well-delivered talks, but by something else. Bill and his wife had been searching together for a nameless something that would give meaning to their lives. On their way back to Indiana, where she was to stay with relatives, they had visited Salt Lake City and picked up a copy of the Book of Mormon along with some pamphlets. Now the book lay before him.
The desire to go swimming and fishing tempted Bill for the next few days, but he resolved to study and to use his year alone to advantage. Soon he was absorbed in the story and testimonies of Lehi, Nephi, Mosiah, and King Benjamin. He was also deeply impressed with the testimony of Joseph Smith. Intense reading and long hours of study eventually led Bill to Moroni’s promise. He pondered it, then knelt and prayed. He got up with knowledge in his heart that the book from his seabag did indeed contain the truth. Sleep was sweet that night.
In the morning he wrote a letter to President George W. Poulsen, Jr., of the Hawaiian Mission, and asked how he could be baptized. He knew this would be a problem because he could not leave the island and the only contact with the rest of the world was the weekly plane flight and an occasional visit from a ship carrying heavy equipment.
President Poulsen sent Bill a copy of A Marvelous Work and a Wonder and encouraged him to study it while he tried to make arrangements to get two elders out to the island somehow. Bill read the book and then sent it to his wife, as he had done with other books and pamphlets as he finished them. And he waited, studied, and prayed.
Bishop Hal K. Hess of the Kaneohe First Ward smiled as he chatted with President Poulsen on the phone. He had seen enough in his years of Church work to know that sometimes chance meetings are more than coincidental. He hadn’t been unduly surprised to run into an old LDS friend in the Hawaii Temple a few weeks before. After all, Lieutenant Gerald Foster traveled quite a bit in his work for the Coast Guard. But to think that Brother Foster was now assigned as a pilot at Barber’s Point Air Station, the field where the supply flights to Tern Island originated!
“I’d be glad to help,” Brother Foster said, noting that he could probably arrange to make the flight. But he warned that getting permission to fly two missionaries out to the island would have to come from Coast Guard Headquarters in Washington, D.C., and that would mean red tape galore. Wait a minute! There was another LDS pilot at the same base, a friend Brother Foster had introduced to the Church, Lieutenant Anthony Beardsley. Brother Beardsley normally flew to Guam, but perhaps the commanding officer would do them a favor. It was worth a try.
Brother Foster still recalls with amazement: “The Coast Guard is not a large service, and there were certainly not many Mormons in it in 1964. It was fortunate indeed that two pilots, both elders, were stationed at Barber’s Point at that time.”
“Brother Foster and I were classmates at the Coast Guard Academy,” Brother Beardsley remembers. “He helped my wife and me join the Church two years before, and throughout our military careers, we managed to follow each other from one duty station to another. I feel that in Hawaii we were placed in a position to answer someone’s prayer.”
The commander, after hearing the unusual circumstances, granted permission for the pilots to fly together. With instructions and authority from the mission president to interview William Hoagland and, if they found him worthy, to baptize him, the two lieutenants took off on June 4, 1964.
Bill had already been pacing up and down the runway long before the speck appeared in the sky and drew nearer. The plane was only scheduled for a two-hour stop, and there was a lot to accomplish in that short time period. Finally the Grumman Albatross circled in and taxied to a halt.
Brother Foster interviewed Bill in the base’s small library, then the three men went to the sick bay (which was also Bill’s room) and changed into white clothing. They went outside and waded about 20 yards off shore. Fifty yards away, across a narrow lagoon, a reef smothered the fury of 20-foot Pacific waves. Inside, the water pooled, calm, clear, and warm, with gentle breakers lapping at the shore. Sunlight dazzled its reflections across the surface as terns and bosun birds swooped overhead. Everything was silent.
Lieutenant Foster performed the baptism. Bill felt warm inside as the water rushed over him. “I knew it was the greatest day of my life,” Brother Hoagland says. “We were dripping with water and shaking hands as we hurried back to prepare for the confirmation.” Soon Elder Beardsley was inviting Bill to receive the Holy Ghost.
The men had just enough time for lunch, and then the plane flew away. “My new-found brothers were gone,” Brother Hoagland recalls, “but I was not lonely. I had their love and good wishes and the Holy Ghost to comfort me. I felt part of something great and good.” In his two months remaining on the island, he studied a religious correspondence course from BYU and bore his testimony to his wife Kay in his letters. One month after her husband’s baptism, she was baptized in Fort Wayne, Indiana, after receiving the missionary discussions.

Having a strong testimony is the bottom line for Kate. She is always excited to go to young women camp and youth conference with her stake. When asked about her favorite scripture, Kate mentions an experience she had while attending Especially for Youth. She hadn’t planned to bear her testimony, but then she had a feeling that someone there needed to hear what she had to say. She had been reading in her scriptures and had come upon Mosiah 8:18: “Thus God has provided a means that man, through faith, might work mighty miracles; therefore he becometh a great benefit to his fellow beings.”

Kate says, “I stood up and talked about my patriarchal blessing where it says I would be an example to others and people would be watching me. Now it’s my favorite scripture because it came as an answer to me.”

Soon I’ll be celebrating the first anniversary of my baptism, thanks to the efforts of my neighbor Diane Novak who is ten.
Diane invited me to Primary at the Caribou Branch of the Church in the Houlton-Maine District of the Canada-Halifax Mission. Later I met with the missionaries and was baptized by Diane’s father in the swimming pool at Loring Air Force Base. Now I go to Mutual and take my nonmember brother and one of his friends with me.

By the time I had graduated from year twelve, I had become an accomplished tennis player, and I was selected to travel around Europe with a team of Australian prospects. We spent the first month in France, traveling around playing in small pro tournaments. It was at the end of the winter, so the tournaments were on fast indoor courts. Because I am from Australia and I grew up playing on artificial grass courts, my tennis game was built for quick, explosive points. I did well the first month, performing to my potential and winning a lot of matches on the fast indoor courts. I thought, “This is it; I am making my dreams come true.”

Feeling really good about myself, I left France with my team and headed for Austria. The first tournament of the summer was on slow red clay. If you don’t understand the mechanics of the greatest game ever invented—and, I might add, the toughest mental sport to master—going from fast indoor courts to slow red clay requires a dramatic shift in skill sets. For the first time—and the only time in my forty years of playing tennis—I lost 6–0 6–0, a double bagel, we call it. It rocked my world. I had no idea what had gone wrong. Unwisely, I dwelled on my deficiencies from the match for days; a week later I was still dwelling on the loss. At the time I didn’t realize I was doing anything wrong.

I have since learned that dwelling obsessively on what we do wrong is one of the greatest sources of interference to maximizing our potential. Self-doubt is dangerous. I once had a young thirteen-year-old snowboarder, in answer to my question of what it means to doubt yourself, say, “Don’t say don’t.” It is unimaginable the damage that self-doubt does to your hopes, dreams, and hard-earned skills.

This is what doubt looked like for me: I would miss a backhand into the top of the net and say to myself, “Not again. Your backhand stinks. You can’t make a backhand. Why do you even play this game? You just stink.”

The problem with doubt is that it doesn’t just stay isolated to your backhand. Doubt is a mental habit, and it can—and does—spread to other areas of your life.

Not identifying the root of the problem at the time, I struggled on the tour for the next year and a half, ending my pro tennis aspirations. My poor performance would later be a blessing because I never made any money and could still claim amateur status.

“What’s this?” Sam asked Mom, poking the pile of clothes on the kitchen chair.
“Sister Fernandez brought them over for you,” Mom said. “Why don’t you try them on while I finish making the salad?”
“OK!” Sam grabbed the clothes and headed to his room.
First he tried on a couple of T-shirts, one red and one blue. They fit just fine. So did the church pants, which was a good thing. His own church pants had been looking kind of short lately.
Next Sam tried on some jeans. Jeans were great for playing in, and they had lots of pockets. Sam slipped his hands into the front pockets. His right hand felt a piece of paper, and he took it out to see what it was.
The paper was a dollar bill.
“Oh!” Sam held the dollar in both hands. With a dollar, he could buy a candy bar or a bag of chips or a soda. If Mom took him to the dollar store, he could even buy a toy.
Sam sighed and set the dollar bill on the dresser. It wasn’t his.
Except—Sister Fernandez had given him the clothes, hadn’t she? So in a way, she had given him the dollar. She wouldn’t care, Sam thought. She wouldn’t even remember.
Sam started to leave the room. He tried not to look at the dollar on his dresser, but his eyes went back to the money. He didn’t feel right about keeping it.
Sam picked up the dollar and took it to the kitchen. “The clothes all fit,” he said to Mom. Then he showed her the dollar. “I found this in one of the pockets.”
Mom put down the salad spoon and fork she was holding. “What do you think you should do?”
“I should give it back to Sister Fernandez.”
Mom looked at the clock. “We have time for a quick trip,” she said.
When Sam and his mother got to Sister Fernandez’s house, she welcomed them inside.
“I like the clothes,” Sam said. “But I found this in the pocket of the jeans.” He held out the dollar.
Sister Fernandez looked pleased as she accepted the money. “That reminds me of when I was a girl and found some coins in the couch cushions. When I took them to my mother instead of spending them, she was so proud of me!”
Mom put her arm around Sam’s shoulders. “Just like I’m proud of Sam.”
“Sam, would you do me a favor?” Sister Fernandez asked.
Sam nodded.
“I’d like you to buy a treat for an honest boy I know,” Sister Fernandez said, and she gave the dollar back to Sam.
“Thank you!” Sam said. His heart felt full. He knew it wasn’t because of the dollar in his hand.
That night at dinner, Mom told the rest of the family what had happened.
Sam’s little sister Rachel stopped slurping her soup and said, “So you got a dollar today!”
“You got some new clothes too,” Dad said. “But that’s not all, is it?”
“No,” Sam said. “I got something better. I got to do the right thing.”

With the theme “a love of God and of all men” (2 Ne. 31:20) for their values night, the young women of the Glasgow Scotland Stake were asked to bring at least one toiletry item to help with a service project. The results far outstripped the expectations of their leaders. With 28 girls in attendance, they filled 29 small boxes to overflowing. The young women decorated boxes with wrapping paper and stuffed them full of toiletry items. Then they donated the filled boxes to several charities.