Gospel Story Finder

Glen Hoelscher, from St. Lawrence, Texas, recently returned from a mission to Tacoma, Washington. Glen, shown here with his mom, Doris, and his dad, David, grew up on a farm, and he and his father devised an unusual way of financing Glen’s work for the Lord. They used some of their farm land to grow watermelons specifically for the purpose of paying for Glen’s mission, figuring they’d have to sell eight melons for each day that Glen served.
Their efforts proved “fruitful,” and Glen was blessed with a bumper crop—one of the best he and his dad have ever had.

Recently I dealt with sciatic pain in my back and down my right leg for nearly a year. It was a miserable time, but a time of self-reflection, a time of learning, a time of waiting on the Lord to teach me what I should know and do.

Since I was 16, I have had back problems off and on throughout my life, which started while working at a TV store lifting big old stereo console TVs. When you’re young you think you can do it all, and you almost can, but life catches up to you. In the past when my back would flare up, I would find relief through muscle relaxants, physical therapy, chiropractors, or through a cortisone shot. I was always glad to be able to get through it without needing surgery. I hoped I never would need surgery.

This time, almost nothing seemed to be working, but I fought the idea of surgery.

Because of the pain I was going through, my prayers were more intense, pleading for relief, for strength and patience to help me through this dark time. The Lord knows us and knows what we need. He put multiple people in my path who had been through similar problems like mine, who did have surgery and were walking examples to me of the blessing of having surgery.

I don’t want to say I’m an advocate for surgery; instead, I’m an advocate of listening to the Spirit and learning what the Lord would have you do. He does know you!

I give credit to my dear wife, for her patience and endurance with me. She knew all along what I needed but also knew I had to figure it out for myself. Sometimes we men are just a little too hard-headed and proud.

My good wife counseled me to fast and pray about whether I should have the surgery. Even after I had my answer, I still waivered because I was scared, not knowing what long-term affects it would have on me. Again, with encouragement from my wife, I received a priesthood blessing from a good friend and co-worker. Through that blessing the way became clear: if I wanted relief, I needed to have the surgery.

It’s been eight months since surgery, and last month I was able to climb Table Mountain with two of my kids and a son-in-law. It wasn’t easy, but it was worth it.

Representing the First Presidency of the Church, Elder W. Don Ladd, Regional Representative of the Twelve, and Brother Thomas E. Daniels, of the Genealogical Department of the Church, made a special presentation to United States President Jimmy Carter in May 1977.
They gave him a two-inch-thick, leather-bound volume of his genealogy. The record reaches back 12 generations into the early 1600s when Thomas Carter, Sr., was born somewhere in England. Thomas traveled to Virginia in 1632, long before there was a President of the United States.
The genealogical information about the President’s ancestors was gathered from census records, wills, land and probate records, birth and death certificates, and other vital statistics. The work was researched in Salt Lake City where the microfilming work done by the Church in the United States and numerous other countries has resulted in a file of vital statistics amounting to the equivalent of more than 4 1/3 million printed volumes of 300 pages each.
Included with the volume given the President was an 18-by-24-inch, framed family tree, with names of Mr. Carter’s family as far back as could be documented and a letter from the First Presidency. The letter read:
“Daniel Webster said, ‘There is a moral and philosophical respect for our ancestors which elevates the character and improves the heart.’ As you know, we as a people feel a deep reverence and gratitude for our ancestors, which in turn gives us a greater sense of responsibility to our posterity.
“In the spirit of respect and friendship, we present you with this documented genealogy of your family. May you feel a warm satisfaction as you study this record of the people who produced a president.”

A certain man, well up on the ladder of success, had great prospects for a very bright future. Then one day at a businessmen’s luncheon he decided that social drinking would make him more popular and successful. He soon began looking forward to the cocktail hours, and then found they didn’t come often enough. Finally he became an alcoholic, lost his job, his wife, and his friends. Because of the wrong choice at a moment of decision, he had lost everything he once so hopefully and diligently set out to accomplish.

“Many years ago, before you were born, Daddy and I bought this house. I was expecting Rachel and became sick not long after we moved in. I had to stay in bed for about a month. One day, not long after I became ill, Sister Chester came over. She cleaned the kitchen; made dinner for your dad and me; and washed, dried, and folded all the dirty clothes. I tried to get her to stop, but she smiled that special smile of hers and said, ‘Just being neighbors, girl. Just being neighbors.’

“She came over almost every day to fix dinner and do chores until after I had Rachel. On days when she couldn’t come, she sent her granddaughter over with dinner.

“Now that she is older and can’t do as many things as she used to, it is my opportunity to help her. Doing things for others helps us to feel useful and good inside. Besides, it is what Father in Heaven wants us to do.”

The 3:30 school bell rang. Matt dashed for the door, grabbed his coat from the hook, and jumped down the steps ahead of the other students. Once outside, he rounded the corner of the building. Pressing his palms against the wall, he inhaled deeply as though trying to disappear into the red bricks. His eyes searched for a possible hiding place, but there was none—no trees or bushes or anything—only the flat cement playground.
His heart pounded as he remembered Joe’s words from recess: “You just wait till school’s out. I’ll be waiting for you.”
Matt blinked back his tears and watched the others trooping out, yelling and shouting. Then he noticed Joe scanning the school yard.
How can I get away from him? Matt wondered. Cautiously he inched along the wall behind a screen of students, hoping he could make it to the back door without Joe spotting him.
When Matt finally reached the back corner, he scooted around it and went inside. With a sigh of relief, he ran to the front of the building and slipped into his own classroom. He stood behind the big plant near the wide window and watched where his tormentor went.
Joe was still asking questions of the students and looking around. But Matt could tell that no one knew where he had gone.
Matt heard the door open. Mrs. Scott came into the room and exclaimed, “Why, Matt! I thought you were in a hurry to get out of here. I’ve never seen anyone leave so quickly.” Then she noticed his white face. “Matt, are you sick?”
A tear slid down the boy’s cheek, and he quickly brushed it away and shook his head. “Joe’s after me. He says he’s going to beat me up. He’s out there now looking for me.”
Mrs. Scott stood with her hand on Matt’s shoulder and watched from the window. “Too bad about Joe,” she said.
“Why too bad for him? I’m the one who gets sick every morning because I’m afraid he’ll get me. Look! He thinks I got away. Maybe he’ll go home now,” Matt said, momentarily relieved. “But it’ll be the same all over again tomorrow.”
“Joe hasn’t much of a home to go to,” Mrs. Scott commented. “His mother died last year, and his father is out of a job. He has an older sister—and that’s all he has. He’s unhappy and can’t seem to concentrate on his schoolwork.”
“He’s mean, and he doesn’t like me,” Matt insisted.
“That’s what’s so sad about Joe. He really wants friends but doesn’t know how to get them,” Mrs. Scott said. “Why don’t you sit down here and read a little while until we’re sure Joe has gone. Then you can walk home without any trouble.”
Mrs. Scott continued to watch Joe from the window while Matt opened the book he had started during reading time. It was about Abraham Lincoln. His pounding heart settled down and his chin rested in the palm of his hand as his eyes scanned the pages. Suddenly something caught his attention. He reread a line several times, then exclaimed, “Mrs. Scott, listen to this! ‘Abraham Lincoln always destroyed his enemies by making them his friends.’”
“Very interesting,” Mrs. Scott responded. “But why does that make you so happy?”
“Well, Joe’s my enemy. Abraham Lincoln would destroy him by making him a friend. You said Joe needs friends. I wonder …”
“Maybe it would work, Matt,” Mrs. Scott remarked thoughtfully. “Joe’s gone home now, though.”
“For now I’m sure glad he goes north and I go south,” Matt replied. “See you in the morning, Mrs. Scott.”
All the way home Matt thought about how he could make Joe his friend. As he opened the kitchen door, he smelled the aroma of hot sugar cookies. “Mmmmm—cookies!” he said as he greeted his mother.
“Where have you been?” his mother asked. “I knew you’d want to help make the cookies, but I couldn’t wait any longer … Matt, is there something wrong?”
Matt sighed and sank into a chair. “I have a problem,” he replied. Picking up a warm cookie, he nibbled it thoughtfully. Then he had an idea! “Mom, would you make more cookies tomorrow?”
“You weren’t thinking about eating all of these tonight, were you!” she exclaimed.
“No, but maybe they’ll work with somebody else.”
“Maybe what will work? I don’t understand you these days, Matt. You have a stomachache every morning and don’t want to go to school. Then you’re late coming home. Won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”
“Not yet, Mom. But you’ll understand tomorrow, if my plan works.”
The next morning Matt was nervous, but he didn’t have a stomachache.
“Have a good day,” his mother said as he started out the door.
“Maybe I’ll bring somebody home after school. Will you have the things ready to make cookies?” Matt asked.
“Yes, if you want me to, I will.”
Matt was at his desk early and was reading his Lincoln book when the other students entered the room. But out of the corner of his eye, he saw Joe sauntering over to him. Matt’s stomach knotted as Joe leaned on his desk and hissed, “Where’d you disappear to yesterday?”
Matt swallowed hard and looked straight into Joe’s eyes. “Joe”—he swallowed harder—“my mom has something neat for us if you’ll come home with me today after school.”
Joe was taken completely by surprise. Then his face hardened as he leaned on Matt’s desk again with his fists clenched. “Sure. Big deal!”
Matt clenched his own fists under his desk and kept looking straight into Joe’s eyes. He forced himself to smile. “No kidding, Joe. You’ll like it!”
Joe’s face relaxed. “Your mom, huh? OK—I’m game!”
Matt stayed in at recess to help Mrs. Scott. He couldn’t take a chance on upsetting Joe on the playground and spoiling the whole thing.
After school Matt met Joe and asked, “Do you have to go home first and tell your mother you’ll be late?”
Now it was Joe who swallowed hard. “My mom’s not there. Nobody cares if I come straight home.”
“Oh,” Matt said, remembering too late what Mrs. Scott had told him about Joe’s family.
“I don’t have a mom anymore,” Joe went on. “What’s this neat thing supposed to be your mom has for us, anyway?”
Matt could tell that Joe’s wall of toughness was beginning to crumble. The two of them ran almost all the way to Matt’s house. His mother was smiling as they burst into the kitchen. “Well, I see you brought a friend.”
“This is my friend Joe, Mom. Oh, good, you have the things ready for the cookies.”
“Don’t forget to scrub your hands, boys,” Matt’s mother reminded them with a wink.
The boys helped Matt’s mother add all the ingredients for the soft dough, and then she rolled it out.
“Choose the cookie cutter you want, Joe,” Matt said.
Joe picked up a cookie cutter with the outline of a bat. Matt picked a ghost-shaped one.
Matt showed Joe how to cut out the cookies and put them carefully onto the cookie sheets with a spatula. Later they removed the baked ones just as carefully. They were really enjoying themselves by now. Occasionally they would eat some of the plain dough they pulled away from the cut cookies.
When all the cookies were baked, Matt’s mother made icing so they could decorate some of them.
“I’ve never done anything like this in my whole life!” Joe exclaimed. “Could I take a couple home to my sister?”
“Oh, you can take a box full,” Matt’s mother said with a smile of understanding. “Why don’t you two go out and play ball while the icing is setting?”
Later, as the boys packed the cookies in a flat box for Joe to take home, Matt thought happily to himself, Abraham Lincoln was right! You can destroy enemies by turning them into friends!

Among the first to accept the gospel in Tanzania was Robert Israel Muhile. Robert attended his first LDS meeting in Egypt, where he was working and studying. At church, he met a missionary couple who taught him the discussions and baptized him. In May 1991 he was ordained an elder and decided to take the gospel to his family in Tanzania. But when he returned to his village—one thousand miles and three days by bus from Tanzania’s capital, Dar es Salaam—his efforts went without success.

After six months, Robert traveled to Nairobi, Kenya, and secured permission from the mission president to administer the sacrament to himself. “I know how important those emblems are,” Robert says. “I didn’t feel well spiritually.” Back home, Robert continued to invite his family to join him for worship service, and they continued to turn him down. So he held his own service alone. He describes his service simply:

“I prepared water and bread and more water to clean my hands, and a small towel. I sang a song to myself out loud. I had my hymn book. After that, I offered an opening prayer. Because I was alone I didn’t have any business to do, so I sang the sacrament hymn and prepared the sacrament. Then I knelt and blessed and took it. After the sacrament, I covered it, as we respect it always. I offered myself a talk—my testimony. Then I sang as in Sunday School and then read from Gospel Principles. I finished with a prayer. I then attended priesthood. After singing a hymn, I’d have a prayer, then read from the priesthood manual the lesson I had chosen for that day. After that, I finished by singing and then offered the closing prayer.”

After being home two months, Robert received a letter from Lervae and Joyce Cahoon, the first missionaries sent into Tanzania. They requested his services as a translator. He accepted and traveled to Dar es Salaam to join them. While there, he met and married Joy Nassiuma, a convert from Nairobi. In July 1993, Robert and Joy had their marriage sealed in the Johannesburg South Africa Temple.

One of my favorite prophets of my youth was President Boyd K. Packer. As a child, President Packer grew up surrounded by an orchard. One day he was working on irrigating the orchard. The rows were overgrown with weeds and soon the finite supply of water began to flood in every direction. He frantically worked in the puddles to shore up the bank, but just as soon as one was patched, another one broke. A neighbor came by, watched for a moment, and then with a few strokes of the shovel, cleared the ditch and allowed the water to course through the channel he made. The neighbor said, “If you want the water to stay in its course, you’ll have to make a place for it to go”. President Packer likened thoughts to the water. “Thoughts will stay on course if we make a place for them to go, otherwise thoughts follow the course of least resistance, always seeking the lower levels”. Learning to control your thoughts is easier said than done, probably one of the hardest things you’ll learn to do, but President Packer reminds us that as we learn to control our thoughts, we can overcome habits, gain courage, conquer fear, and have a happy life.

Usually our fears are only imagined. When I was a little boy growing up in Oakley, Idaho, we had a long line of poplar trees growing along the road leading to our home. When it was dark, I used to run as fast as I could past those poplar trees. I always imagined that there was something behind one of those trees waiting to jump out at me. Of course in the daylight, I knew it was all in my mind. That is how it is with our fears—99 percent of the things we worry about are not real.

It’s a typically humid day in Jogjakarta, Indonesia, and sweat drips from Agung’s brow as he awaits his opponent’s serve. The badminton match is close, and the 15-year-old feels driven to win.
After a furious exchange, his opponent puts the shuttlecock hopelessly out of Agung’s reach. Unwilling to give up the point in such a close match, Agung dives for the shuttlecock but comes up short—and bleeding from sliding across the cement court.
It’s easy to see that he loves competitive badminton. But Agung doesn’t dream of becoming a professional badminton player. He’s not going to have to choose between serving the shuttlecock in the Olympics and serving a mission. By his own admission, he’s not particularly good at the sport.
So why does this small teen with the big smile try so hard? Hope.
“I believe I can get better,” he says.
Hope is the reason we do a lot of things. We exercise because we hope we can become stronger and healthier. We practice a musical instrument because we hope we can learn to play well. Agung practices badminton because he hopes he can improve.
“If I had no hope of getting any better and ever winning, it would be very easy to give up,” Agung says.
Hope is an essential element of the plan of salvation. Hope that we can be forgiven leads us to repent and try again after we fail to keep a commandment.
Two of Satan’s best weapons against us are doubt and discouragement. He wasn’t able to foil Heavenly Father’s plan by stopping the Atonement. But he can still try to foil the cleansing effects of the Atonement in our lives if he can steal our hope that we can be forgiven.
“Satan wants us to lose hope,” Agung says, “because when we give up, it leaves us far from Heavenly Father.”
However, when Satan succeeds in discouraging us, there are ways to find hope again.
When we need hope for the future, we can look to the past. Agung uses an example from school that has taught him this lesson. “I’ve seen that if I study hard, I can be successful on my exams,” he says. “Because of that experience, I have hope that if I practice hard, I can improve at badminton,” he says. “My experience gives me hope.”
When we need hope in Jesus Christ, we can find it in both our past experiences with the power of the Atonement (see Romans 5:4) and the experiences of others, including the experiences you might hear in sacrament meeting, a Sunday School lesson, the Liahona, or the scriptures (see Jacob 4:4–6).
As we study the hopeful words of the prophets, pray for the spiritual gift of hope, and learn to recognize the Savior’s power in our lives, our faith in Him increases, as does our hope that He will help us in the future.1
Agung knows he will probably never be a professional athlete, but he knows that as long as he keeps trying, there is hope he can improve.
He has learned that the great power of hope is this: “As long as you never give up, there is hope,” he says.
In life, the Atonement of Jesus Christ is the ultimate source of hope. Because of the Atonement we can repent when we make a mistake. That also means that because of the Atonement, we have not failed our life’s test when we make a mistake unless we give up trying to repent and obey.
That’s why Agung continues to invite his father to church every Sunday. That’s why he tries to stand up for what’s right, even when his friends don’t. That’s why he makes the hour-long round-trip bike ride to the meetinghouse so often for seminary, Mutual, Sunday meetings, missionary preparation classes, and to help clean the building.
“It’s not easy to try to be like Jesus,” Agung says. “Sometimes I get discouraged, but I don’t give up. Because of His sacrifice for me, I have hope I can be better.”
Because of the Atonement there is hope. And because of hope, the Atonement can change our lives.

Some years ago I read an article entitled “Bind on Thy Sandals.” It told of a quarterback on the football team of a small, rural high school. This young man managed to make the team, but it was clear that he was not going to be all-state or all-American. In fact, he was the fourth of four quarterbacks.
By the last game of the season, he had never been called into a game, and he had given up all hope of playing. During the final game of the year he decided to relax and enjoy himself, so he pulled off his shoes, wrapped himself in a blanket, and settled down on the bench to watch his buddies play.
Midway through the game he heard the coach shout his name. He was startled and wondered if he had been mistaken. Then the coach called again, “Hey, you! Get in there and move the ball!”
What should he do? He wanted to say, “Wait, coach, while I put on my shoes.” But instead, he made straight for the huddle, his white-stockinged feet conspicuous to the players, the spectators, and the coach.
He was obviously confused as he called his first play, and by the time he took the snap from center, he had forgotten which play he had called. While his teammates moved to the right, he went left, where he was swallowed up in the snarl of onrushing linemen.
He said later, “No one expected me to make a touchdown. Even running the wrong way was understandable. But there was no excuse for a quarterback without shoes.” (See Improvement Era, September 1969, page 44.)

In Oslo, the morning sun is hazy. It’s peering over rock walls, creeping down the cobblestone streets. For most teenagers, it’s time to get up and get ready for school.

But at the Oslo First Ward building, a group of teenagers is already studying. In fact, they arrived long before the first light peeked through their seminary classroom windows.
“I have to get up at 5:30 in the morning to get ready,” says Øyvind Andersen, 17. “My father drives me over, and class starts at 6:30. Then at 7:15 I take the subway to my school, which starts at 8:20.”
“At school we already have classes on Christianity and World Religions,” says Liv Austenaa, 15. “So some of my friends think I’m crazy to come to another religion class early every day.”
“But early-morning seminary has given me a lot,” says Thor Andre Eråk, 16. “I believe I’ve learned much more than if I had studied by myself at home.”
Is it worth the effort? “I cannot possibly express my gratitude for what the Church has done to my life,” Øyvind says. “I know what I have—the gospel—is extremely valuable. I’m convinced that programs like seminary and missionary work give you a solid platform for later life. They strengthen your testimony radically.”
His brother Geir, 16, agrees. “Seminary helps me to find out what the gospel is all about,” he says. “I think Christ is the best of all examples, and thinking about him makes me want to get up and go to seminary. When I come here, I always get more out of my day.”

Have you ever been in an uncomfortable situation and thought "how did I get here," or more accurately "how did I allow this to happen?" I felt this way when, while living in Allentown PA, a group of my friends thought that it would be fun to have a "girls' night out" and go dancing. Even though we planned on going to a club, we wouldn't be drinking and I thought that there would be no harm in dancing with my friends. As soon as I entered the club, I started to feel uncomfortable. This was not a place where a daughter of God should be spending time. It was rather, a place where people were dulling their senses with alcohol and giving away their dignity by the way they dressed and acted. What a mistake; how had I allowed this to happen? I succumbed to peer pressure and listened to worldly friends instead of listening to the Spirit.

Choosing our friends carefully is important in our life-long journey. Now I'm not talking about limiting our friends to those who are well-dressed, or those who move in the popular social circle. The Savior chose his disciples by looking at the inner man, not by considering their appearance or their occupation. If we could look at people with "heavenly glasses" we may be surprised at who is dressed in royal robes. When we surround ourselves with associates who uplift us and encourage us to do better, we put ourselves on a path to spiritual success.

Years ago, Sister Chieko Okasaki came to Ricks College as a devotional speaker. During the luncheon before the devotional she shared with us how in her life she had learned to place her afflictions on the altar of God and consecrate them to His service. For example, she said that things were difficult during World War II. She agonized over the treatment of her people, but decided to ask the Lord how she could turn over this pain to His will. The Lord taught her to use her ethnic background to teach the sisters of the church about the beauty of our diversity in a world-wide church, which she has done so well in her writings and her calling in the general Relief Society. She also had a very difficult time when she lost her husband, Ed. They were very much in love and very close, but instead of remaining alone in her grief, she began to visit other widows in her area to bring them comfort and understanding. Sister Okasaki was able to awake to the healing reality of the atonement in her life and allow the Lord to consecrate her afflictions, not only for her gain, but also for a great blessing in the lives of His other children.[34]

On Sundays my mom usually woke me up so I could get ready for church and get there before the meetings began. But one Sunday my mom didn’t wake me up. I woke up by myself and noticed that I didn’t hear the usual noise of my family getting ready for church. I nervously looked at the clock and realized I was half an hour late for church. I had missed the sacrament. I probably would miss Sunday School too.
I felt confused and abandoned. Why didn’t my mom wake me up this morning? She always woke me up. But then it hit me: It wasn’t my mom’s responsibility to wake me up so I could get to church on time—it was mine. I had made my own covenants with Heavenly Father, and it was my responsibility to keep them.
Later that day my mom commented on not waking me up for church. She said that she wouldn’t wake me up again. She told me that I should put in my own effort and gain my own testimony.
During that week, I found myself thinking about how I couldn’t live on my parents’ testimonies forever and how I should try harder to strengthen my own testimony. Since then, I have worked hard to wake up early every Sunday so that I can make it to church on time and take the sacrament. I am learning to be spiritually self-sufficient.
Lia Alves, Ceará, Brazil

One day I attended a conference with our one-year-old daughter. In the conference, an Area Seventy talked about the responsibility of parents to teach the gospel to their children. He then made a promise that left a huge impression on me. He said: “If, after everything you can do to teach the gospel, one of your children leaves the Church, they will still be blessed because of the memory of the things they experienced at home.”

The words of that Area Seventy filled me with hope because I had nieces and nephews who had left the Church. Years later my daughter, the same one-year-old I held in my arms during that conference, left the Church when she turned 17. She had met someone who was not rooted in the gospel, and they got married. She never went to church after that.

This was painful for me. I asked myself over and over what we did wrong. Her father and I always tried to keep the commandments and serve in the Church. We love our children and want the best for them. After many tears and questions, we finally concluded that children grow, exercise their agency, and don’t always believe the things they’re taught at home.

Unfortunately, my daughter’s marriage fell apart, and she still doesn’t want to come back to the Church. All I can do is remember the promise that she will remember and be blessed because of the things she was taught at home.

I continue to pray for my daughter. I love her with all my heart, and it hurts me to see her distanced from the Church. But I know that, despite my imperfections, the things I taught her are right and true. I know that Heavenly Father is just and loving and that He listens to our prayers. Without any doubt in my heart, I know that if I do my part, He will answer them in the moment He sees right.

In December of last year, the Kingstown Branch of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints joined with the National Emergency Management Organization on the World Day of Service to hold educational sessions for church members and their friends on food and water storage and disaster preparedness. In addition to the presentations, seeds were provided to all attendees so they could plant their own gardens.
The following month, district and branch presidencies in St. Vincent and the Grenadines encouraged members to refocus their efforts toward being self-reliant both temporally and spiritually. Members took this counsel to heart and did what they could to increase their food and water storage despite their limited financial resources. Some even planted their own gardens. Since then, there have been many reminders to start preparing, even in small ways. Some sisters began purchasing water bottles and sharing them with others who showed interest. Others planted gardens and added to their food supply.
These preparations have been very beneficial as they have been used since the La Soufriere volcano began erupting on April 9, spewing ash into the air.
Sister Nichole Franklyn, Relief Society president in the Kingstown Branch, recalls, “We started a kitchen garden. We were happy, but it took a lot of work. We prayed each night over the crops, and Heavenly Father heard our prayers and blessed them.” Their simple garden has grown and is producing.
Not all the produce in their garden is ready to harvest, but they are reaping cucumbers and sweet peppers. They were worried that the ash fall would ruin their garden as it has much of the agriculture on the island. “Many crops have been completely wiped out, but God has spared ours. We were able to reap cucumbers. Right now, we can sell our cucumbers for five dollars per pound, but we opted to share with three shelters,” Sister Franklyn said.
The members were also encouraged to become spiritually self-reliant. Following the example of a group that started in St. Lucia where a group of sisters are meeting for prayer and scripture study at 5:00 am each morning from Monday to Saturday, the sisters in St. Vincent also began in earnest. They meet on Zoom with other members of the Church in the Caribbean Area at the same time. Despite the prevailing circumstances, the members are strong and without fear, and they continue to meet morning after morning.
Sister Franklyn is grateful for the blessings that her garden has brought to her family and to those in the shelters. “The Lord watches out for His children and provides when we are able to follow His teachings through our leaders,” she said. “It really feels good to give rather than to receive at this time.”

When I was a young man, Elder Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985), then a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, visited Japan and spoke at a conference I attended. I still remember his counsel: “Young people are to go on missions, and they are to be married in the temple.”
I felt prompted by the Holy Ghost and resolved that I would serve a mission and marry in the temple, even though Japan did not yet have a temple.
At the time, I was 19 and in my second year of university studies. My parents, who were not Latter-day Saints, strongly opposed my decision to serve a mission. Every day I prayed that they would give me their permission and blessing. Six months later the Lord answered my prayer.
“We are having financial difficulties, and we can no longer pay for your school and living expenses,” my parents told me. “From this point onward you will have to live on your own. We don’t mind if you go on a mission either!”
I had my parents’ blessing, so I quit school, served a Church construction mission, and then began looking for a job to raise money for a proselyting mission. With the Lord’s help, I found three jobs! Every day except Sunday for the following year, I delivered newspapers from 3:00 a.m. to 7:00 a.m., cleaned buildings from 9:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m., and worked as a cook from 5:00 p.m. to 7:30 p.m. Then I would change clothes and work nights as a district missionary.
When I was 22, I was called to the Northern Far East Mission. Through my mission service I experienced the greatest joy I had ever felt, had many opportunities to come to know God’s love, and received many blessings. My family was also blessed during my service when my parents resolved their financial challenges.

While serving as a missionary in the Philippines, I met Maria Jocelyn Castillo, or Jocey as she was called.
We taught Jocey and her cousin Nestor the first discussion. The Spirit was strong, and Jocey agreed to read the Book of Mormon in Tagalog, the national language.
On our next visit, we found an excited Jocey and Nestor and about five new faces. We taught another first discussion to Jocey’s sister Julie and some neighboring cousins.
After that the discussions went great. Jocey read all her assignments and started reading the Book of Mormon on her own. She soon committed to baptism. But as we got closer to her baptism, I could feel some concerns. I knew why. Jocey had only one leg and used a crutch to get around. She also wore a handkerchief on her head. On our third visit, we learned that Jocey had cancer and three years earlier had had her leg amputated. That had only slowed the disease. She started painful chemotherapy, and when her hair fell out, wore a handkerchief on her head.
We hesitantly invited Jocey to attend church. I say hesitantly because Jocey lived about two miles from the church at the bottom of the biggest hill in the area. She had only one leg and not a lot of money for transportation; I really didn’t expect to see Jocey at church.
Sunday came, the meeting started, and 20 minutes later I saw Jocey and her cousin walk through the gate. I could see a wince of pain on Jocey’s face with each step. When she saw me, she smiled. I turned away so she wouldn’t see the tears in my eyes. I thought of the times I had missed church because my head hurt or I was too tired. I thought of the sacrifice she was making to get to church.
Jocey never missed a Sunday. I knew the cancer was taking its toll as she coughed and tried to cover her pain. When her baptism day came, she told me she wasn’t ready. She wanted to be baptized, but she thought she would be embarrassed to remove her handkerchief with everyone watching. I said a quick prayer and was able to reassure her. She grabbed her change of clothes and a towel, smiled, and said thank you.
I’ve never felt the Spirit stronger than I did at her baptism. Jocey cried, and so did the others in attendance.
Jocey didn’t stop there. She helped the rest of her family, her next-door neighbors, and friends in their conversions. Finally, her mother joined.
Cancer progressed quickly, and Maria Jocelyn Castillo moved on to the next life. It was hard for me to become friends with such a wonderful person, then watch her die. Finally, I realized how blessed I had been to have been able to help such a young woman become closer to the Savior.
On the day of the funeral, the members of her ward helped with the service, showing that great love King Benjamin talked about. As they lowered the casket into the grave, Jocey’s emotional mother fainted and lay unconscious for about 30 seconds. When she came to, she looked up and said softly, three times, “Alam ko na saan,” which means, “I know where now.” And she calmly walked away.
I learned from Jocey how important the Church is, and how much light the gospel can bring to our lives and the lives of our families and friends. I will always remember Jocey.

In another story of heroism a young man called Butch O’Hare, while serving as an aviator in the Pacific during World War II, was forced on an occasion to return from his squadron to the aircraft carrier because of mechanical difficulties with his fighter plane.

While returning he spotted a squadron of Japanese Zeros preparing to attack his carrier. Although far outnumbered and handicapped by a partially disabled plane, Butch O’Hare attacked the squadron of Zeros, and through his heroism saved the lives of many of his comrades as he demonstrated his courage and skill by disabling plane after plane of the Japanese squadron.

For his courage young Butch O’Hare received numerous citations and awards including the honor of having the airport in his home town of Chicago named after him, “O’Hare International.”

These two stories of courage are more than geographically related because, you see, the father of the World War II flying ace Butch O’Hare was the young attorney who had given his life so that he could leave his young son a legacy of courage and honor.