Gospel Story Finder

Cherry was 12 years old when her mom died. Cherry was not yet a member of the Church and felt that her life no longer had meaning. She felt broken and sad and alone. She even thought about taking her own life. Then she learned about the gospel, and she is now preparing to be baptized for her mom in the temple. She knows that because the Savior died and was resurrected, we will all be resurrected someday. Death is not the end.

We continued going to church and taking the missionary lessons. As the weeks went by, I learned much more about the Church. I wanted to do the right things. I began reading the Bible and the Book of Mormon, praying, eating good food, dressing modestly, and trying to live a Christian life. After trying all these things, I felt good about myself.
My mother, who had not wanted to go to church, continued to participate in the missionary lessons and continued to take us to church every Sunday. We made the decision to be baptized, and my mother, sister, and I became members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on June 3, 2000. This was a decision that has changed all of our lives. My brother was too young to be baptized, and my stepfather did not share in our beliefs, but he always supported all of us in our Church-related activities and meetings.

When I was six, my dad took me and my older sister to play basketball. It was my first time playing at a real gym. The basketball felt heavy in my small hands and the hoop—even at its lowest setting—seemed overwhelmingly high.
“Don’t worry, just take a shot,” my dad said.
I turned to my dad. “But what if I miss?” I asked.
More than two decades later, I don’t remember if I made that shot or not. But I do remember the fear I felt: “What if I miss? What if my best efforts fall short? What should I do if I fail?”
That same fear of failure has plagued me throughout my life. For a long time, I was naturally skilled in enough activities to cover that fear. But it still manifested itself in small ways. I didn’t try a sport until I knew I was good at it. I avoided school subjects that did not correlate with my strengths. When I did try new activities that I was not immediately successful in, my solution was to quickly quit and move on to something I was more skilled in.
Then I went on my mission. For the first time, I was forced into an environment where my weaknesses were blaringly evident and I couldn’t easily back out. I had a hard time initiating conversations. I struggled teaching in a new language. I faced rejection multiple times a day. I was constantly failing—taking shots and missing—and there were days when I considered following my usual pattern for failure: giving up and going home.
During this time, I received much-needed inspiration and correction from the story of Oliver Cowdery trying to translate the plates. After a few weeks of scribing for Joseph Smith, Oliver began to wonder if he could also translate the plates.
Joseph asked the Lord and received an answer that Oliver would be allowed to translate. However, the Lord also gave Oliver a few cautions, two of which were to “be patient” and “fear not” (D&C 6:19, 34).
Translating was not as simple as Oliver imagined. When the words didn’t come easily, he became frustrated and soon gave up.
As I studied the story, I recognized that Oliver’s problem was similar to my own. He had expected to master translating quickly, and when it became evident that he would not be immediately successful—that he would fail many times as he worked to develop the gift—he went back to scribing, something he was comfortable with. The Lord’s cautions were accurate: Oliver was not patient with himself or with God, and he feared. So God took the opportunity away from him (see D&C 9:3).
I realized how often my fear of failure had stopped me. I had been so afraid of “missing shots” that I hadn’t even taken them or had given up after a few attempts. In trying to avoid failure, I had missed opportunities at future success. I hadn’t been patient with myself or God, and I had feared.
Oliver Cowdery’s story also gave me hope. Although the Lord told Oliver that he would not be able to translate then, He also promised, “Other records have I, that I will give unto you power that you may assist to translate” (D&C 9:2). Oliver’s opportunity to translate was not lost, just delayed. Likewise, opportunities I had missed were not lost. The Lord would provide more, if I was willing to be patient and not allow fear of failure prevent me from trying.
I resolved to work through my fear of failure. Even though I still felt anxious talking to strangers or teaching in a foreign language, I improved at both. These skills have helped me in my life, even after my mission.
There are still times that I hesitate to try something new or do something I’m not particularly good at. But I’ve learned to be more patient. I’ve learned to keep taking shots and not be afraid to miss.

In February 2021, stuck in their apartments because of COVID-19, Elder Knowles and Elder Thomas were trying to spread the word of Jesus Christ through Facebook and Zoom. They had met Josh, a senior at a small Catholic college in western Massachusetts, and they wondered if I, a relatively recent convert to the Church, would join the three of them for a lesson. “He reminds us of you,” said one of the missionaries. “I think you guys would get along.”
I gave a quick yes. As the only member of the Church in my family, I was desperate for whatever gospel conversations I could have in those lonely months of isolation.
Josh and I got along exactly as predicted: he was an ebullient young man who had already made much more progress toward accepting the gospel in his life than he realized. We talked about his background and mine; the missionaries gave us the confidence to speak openly about faith and spiritual progress. I was much older than Josh, yet the conversation moved comfortably right along. “We should do this again sometime,” I said as the Zoom call started to roll to a close. “This was fun.”
“I would love to do this again,” Josh said. “But do you think I can invite my friend Eddie next time? He would really like this.” Eddie was another senior at the same college, and as it turned out, he had been great friends in high school with a member of the Church. Of course we would welcome Eddie, I said, but if he was going to invite Eddie, then I wanted to invite my friend Jack, someone I had just started talking to about the Church and who, as it turned out, also had a good high school friend who was a member.
And so it began. For several weeks in a row, Josh, Eddie, Jack, the missionaries, and I met and talked about life. It wasn’t a classic missionary lesson. Although we decided to start and end each hour with a prayer, it was clear that our friends weren’t necessarily interested in a predetermined lineup of lessons. Early on, we instituted an idea that would come to define the group over the course of the next few months. Every week, each person would come with a question—sometimes a softball question (“What’s your go-to flavor of ice cream?”) but usually a more thoughtful or serious question (“Who is your greatest role model and why?”). Then each member of the group answered the question.
It didn’t take long to discover that we were on to something important. Eddie noted it immediately in a text to a returned missionary friend: “It’s very weird because I’m not used to men being able to talk the way that we did; I felt very relaxed and shared more about my life than I thought I would,” he wrote. “I’m kind of used to the whole ‘you can’t have feelings’ deal with my guy friends.” But Eddie knew this was different; there was freedom in this meeting—a freedom to be ourselves, vulnerable and honest, and truly listen to one another.
Over time we brought in more friends, including Cameron, a member of the Church from California who joined the group a few months after we started. Cameron and Josh clicked immediately, which accelerated Josh’s interest in the Church. By summer, there was no question he would join the Church. That only strengthened our dedication to meet week after week, as we understood intuitively what Elder Gary E. Stevenson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles would say in general conference less than a year later: “By sharing our positive experiences in the gospel with others, we take part in fulfilling the Savior’s great commission [to ‘teach all nations’ (Matthew 28:19)].”2
By July, Josh had set a baptism date, so Cameron flew across the country to Massachusetts to baptize a man he had only previously met on Zoom. It was also wonderful to see Eddie and Jack show up to witness the ordinance. “Of course I’m coming,” Jack had said earlier in the week when I asked him if he planned to go. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Jack, a college kid with lots of other things on his mind in the waning days of summer, left home in southern Connecticut by 7:00 a.m. to support his new friend in an adventure neither of them could have described a year earlier.
Eighteen months after his baptism, Josh—now Elder Keaton—is proudly serving a mission in Sacramento, California.
We never fail to meet on Tuesday nights. By now, over 60 people have attended, almost half of them friends of other faiths. After we had been meeting for two years, Eddie asked how we had grown from our meetings. Each of us acknowledged the remarkable strength we derive from each other. We have become friends who support and love one another. The Spirit is always present as well. We’ll keep going, inviting new friends every week to delight in and ponder on the things of our souls (see 2 Nephi 4:15).
Our guiding principle can be found in the Savior’s words: “I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up” (Doctrine and Covenants 84:88) and in these words from Elder Ulisses Soares of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles: “I invite you to consider ways we can transform ourselves into uplifting and supportive people, people who have an understanding and forgiving heart, people who look for the best in others.”3
I never imagined I would be grateful to that confounding pandemic for anything, but I wouldn’t be part of this group of friends without it. God’s plan, as it turns out, will carry on, even in the loneliest and most isolated circumstances.
The author lives in Connecticut.

The stake president, Sonny Purcell, was driving his car when he saw the enormous wave coming far out at sea. He honked his horn and stopped children on the road walking to school and warned them to run for higher ground and safety as fast as they could go. The children followed his instruction. He frantically drove, reached his four-year-old daughter, put her in the car, and then tried to get to his mother. Before he could reach his mother, the wall of water picked up his car and swept it over 100 yards (91 m), where it lodged in a tree. He scrambled to secure his daughter on top of the car and then swam to rescue his mother, who was clinging to a branch of another tree near their house. With great effort he swam with her to the car and safety. Many were not as fortunate. They did not have time to get to higher ground and safety. Many lost their lives, particularly the young and the elderly.

I was busy shopping one day some years ago when two young women asked if they could speak with me. “Certainly,” I replied.
“If you died today,” they asked, “would you go to heaven?”
They must have noticed my surprise, because they immediately opened their copies of the Bible and quoted a verse from the New Testament. “All you need to do to go to heaven,” they declared, “is to believe in the Lord Jesus Christ.”
What followed is still a painful memory. I was amazed at their doctrine, and I tried to remember what I had learned at Sunday School, seminary and college religion classes I had taken on the New Testament; but I could give only one scripture to indicate that there was more to entering the kingdom of heaven than simply a profession of faith.
The two women quickly quoted other scriptures similar to the first. I could share some of my beliefs as a Latter-day Saint, but I could not quote the principles from the scriptures. Unconvinced by my feeble arguments, they soon left me. I watched them walking hurriedly up to the next shopper.
“It is a common thing,” President Spencer W. Kimball said, “to have a few passages of scripture at our disposal, floating in our minds, as it were, and thus to have the illusion that we know a great deal about the gospel.”
Such an illusion was mine!
“Each of us,” he continued, “at some time in our lives, must discover the scriptures for ourselves—and not just discover them once, but rediscover them again and again.” (Tambuli, September, 1976.)
The experience discouraged me, and I determined to never again be unprepared. I set aside some regular study time, and began to discover the gospel again.

Let me illustrate with just a little story. One day a young lady was walking across campus and she bumped into one of her favorite professors. He was a surprising little man who would kneel down with his face next to the grass to see the world from a new point of view, or jump out of grand pianos to greet his new students before class. But this day the professor’s interest was on the coed. “What’s wrong with you?” he said. His eyes were looking at her very closely. “You’re not yourself.”
“Oh, nothing really,” said the girl. “I’ve just got the blahs.”
“I knew it,” said the professor, “and I know why. You’ve worked hard lately but you have not done one thing all quarter that really matters to you, have you? You haven’t done one thing that has made bare your heart. Think about it,” he said, and without another word scurried off.
Let me ask you what the professor asked the young coed. Have you done anything lately that really matters to you? Is college life just a mechanical daily routine, or are you searching underneath? You may have been busy—even frantically so—but have any of you been touched in your own soul? Can you say at this point, “Yes, my life has purpose; yes, my life has direction, and it means something to me”? Are you really sure why you are here? I hope so, because you are preparing now to meet the world and its many challenges, to say nothing of a great future that lies ahead.

I'm thinking of a special prayer with Sister Shumway not long after we came to Hawaii. I knelt in frustration and deep resentment against a ward leader who had heaped insult and abuse on my wife. It was totally out of line, uncalled for, and I was determined he was going to pay for it. But in the prayer I experienced a total change of heart, not unlike what happened to the people of King Benjamin at the conclusion of his address. There was no more disposition or desire to do evil. Resentment and frustration were washed out of my system and replaced by a warm affection for and understanding of the offending leader, which led finally to a close friendship.

Soon after my husband was called to preside over the Paraguay Asunción Mission in 1992, we attended a branch conference in an isolated community in the Paraguayan Chaco. We traveled four hours on a paved road and then seven more hours on a primitive road. The perils and discomfort of the long trip were soon forgotten when we greeted the happy and welcoming members of Mistolar.
Julio Yegros was the young branch president, and he and his wife, Margarita, were one of the few families who had been sealed in the temple. I asked them to share their experience of their trip to the temple.
At the time, the closest temple was the Buenos Aires Temple in Argentina. The trip from Mistolar required 27 hours one way to reach the temple, and they had gone with their two small children. It was in the middle of a very cold winter, but with much sacrifice they made it to the temple and were sealed together as an eternal family. On the way back, the two babies got very sick and died. They buried them along the way and returned home empty-handed. They were sad and lonely but amazingly felt comforted and peaceful. They said of the experience: “Our children were sealed to us in the house of the Lord. We know we will have them back with us for all eternity. This knowledge has given us peace and comfort. We have to remain worthy and faithful to the covenants we made in the temple, and then we will be reunited with them.”

At the same time, I have had several students from other countries express to me how difficult it is for them to believe that obeying the law will have any effect, especially considering how corrupt their political leaders are. This can make life challenging, and Yeah Samake, a political leader from Mali, West Africa, faced this very issue almost a decade ago. He came to campus last May to present to the University Forum and related his very inspiring story of how he decided to run for mayor of his village with an emphasis on leading with integrity, which is being honest in your public and private life. After he won, he persuaded his people that great things could happen if they lived with integrity by following the laws in the form of paying their taxes, as less than 10% paid taxes. This was a huge leap of faith for these people, and it was followed by remarkable results. By the end of Yeah Samake’s term, 100% paid their taxes, and their village went from being ranked in the bottom 5 cities to the top 7 out of the 704 cities in Mali. Yeah Samake credits this unbelievable progress to the idea that “consistent small actions focused on others bring about extraordinary results.”

I remember working with one young woman who was offended. She could not understand why she was receiving inappropriate, aggressive e-mails and telephone calls from male friends. She questioned why they would think she appreciated receiving these less-than-polite e-mails and calls. When I visited with the young men, they said they were just joking. Because of the way she had behaved earlier, they thought she would enjoy receiving these edgy messages—messages that sounded like they came from bad TV shows or B movies. Both sides realized that in their behavior toward one another they had crossed over the line of appropriateness and had not followed the counsel of latter-day prophets and the Savior regarding the treatment of others.

Last night was Thursday and everyone was home (untypical), and everyone was busy (typical). Rinda, seventeen, had to write a paragraph for English using a wild list of vocabulary words, and she wanted some ideas. Dinny, twelve, was struggling with a report on Treasure Island to be given orally and wondered how to make it interesting. Shelley, fifteen, was sandwiching geometry theorems between preparations for a report in American Problems on movie ratings and pornography, and she wanted my views. Becky, nineteen, wanted to know a good book to read and asked what I thought about the issue of faculty tenure as reported in the college newspaper that day. Megan, eight, needed some poems to take for library day and asked where to find some information on planets.
On a night like that, I am especially glad for some resources provided by my past to bolster my pretty-tattered present.

As the flight attendants began their usual safety instructions, I checked to make sure my son, Max, was secured in his infant carrier in the seat next to me on the airplane.
I reflected on the day Max was born a few months prior. When I held him for the first time in the hospital, I was determined to do everything in my power to keep him safe, teach him how to find happiness, and provide everything he would need to successfully navigate this life.
I’m sure most fathers experience these feelings. Mine were particularly poignant as I looked into his eyes and remembered the struggle of infertility that preceded his birth, with the physical, emotional, and spiritual toll that it took on me and my wife.
The flight attendants had just explained the way to use the overhead oxygen masks during an emergency, and when one of them reached our row, she had a look of absolute seriousness. She pointed right at me. “If the masks come down, you put yours on first before helping him,” she said, pointing at Max. For some reason, the emphasis with which she said the word first struck me like lightning.
Looking out the airplane window, I imagined the scene—oxygen masks deploying, doubting that I would feel comfortable wasting any time to help Max. Then the thought came to me of the words Jesus Christ spoke to Peter, whose only desire in that moment was to serve and protect the Savior: “When thou art converted, strengthen thy brethren” (Luke 22:32).
And it hit me: the best way I can help Max is to first help myself. I realized that if I needed to secure my own oxygen mask, it would only take a few seconds, but then I could fully and properly help Max. I thought for the remainder of the flight about the small and simple things—much more eternally important than oxygen masks—that I can do first that would put me in the best position to then help Max, to first become converted and to then strengthen others.

Many lives have been blessed by the success of the Philippines Area’s “I Will Go, I Will Serve: 4600” initiative. Aside from the inspired vision of the Area Presidency, the support of the local priesthood leaders and the efforts of youth leaders, the miraculous success of the campaign was also boosted by the catchy theme song performed by Loredel “Daday” Ducena-Baluyot.
Composing the popular anthem with her husband Justin was a labor of love. After the first Area Presidency fireside premiered on Facebook on May 16, 2021, Daday and Justin felt the spirit and were inspired to write the song. After a few weeks, they presented the song to the Church area production team and offered its use to help sustain the momentum of the campaign. The song was reviewed and approved, and by July they were recording it with some help from Brio Divinagracia on the arrangement and background vocals. The song was officially launched during the follow-up Area Presidency fireside on November 21, 2021.
Aside from the 2021 youth theme song “A Great Work,” Daday’s “I Will Go, I Will Serve,” became popular after being part of youth, YSA, and FSY conferences all over the country. It was also listened to and sung along with the 2022 youth theme song “Trust in the Lord.” Recently, the couple rewrote the song as part of the November 20, 2022 Area Presidency fireside launching a heightened and more comprehensive “Come Unto Christ: I Will Go, I Will Serve” initiative.
“We were so honored when the Area Presidency requested that we rework the song so it can still be part of the relaunched campaign,” shares self-taught musician Justin. “He immediately took a leave from work and we spent an entire weekend brainstorming and working together on the song,” discloses Daday.
April 2020 MTC batchmates, the couple drew from their mission experiences when they first wrote the song. Justin served under the Philippines Bacolod Mission while Daday labored in the Philippines Urdaneta Mission. Upon returning from her mission, Daday was tapped to represent the country in the 2021 Youth Music Festival and eventually became a host of the monthly online program “Hear Him through Music.” They got reacquainted when Justin arrived home from his mission, and the whirlwind romance led to their wedding at the Manila Temple on February 3, 2022.
On working on the song again, they expressed gratitude for the emphasis placed on the temple because it is their favorite place. “As a young couple facing many of life’s challenges, the temple is our safe haven where we receive strength and guidance,” says Justin. “I agree,” adds Daday. “We live far from the temple, but we are always excited to go there and feel the Spirit of the Lord.”
With their love for each other strengthened by their love for music, missionary work, the temple, and the Lord, the Daday and Justin consider themselves very lucky to have found each other along their journey on the covenant path.

As an introduction to a third choice, I now relate a personal experience about others who set a path for me to follow. I attended graduate school at Indiana University. My first day in an economics class was with a well-known professor who had the reputation of being tough, demanding, and, for a number of other reasons, was somewhat feared. As this was the first day in his class, he asked each of us to stand and introduce ourselves, giving our name and the university we graduated from. When it was my turn, I gave my name and said I had just graduated from Brigham Young University.

The professor stopped the introductions and said something like this, "It is wonderful to have another great student from Brigham Young University in this class." Now, he did not say this about the very capable students from Indiana, Minnesota, Harvard, or other respected universities. He then asked, "Do you know 'so and so' from BYU?" I knew him. He went on, "Do you know 'so and so' from BYU?" I knew him. Then he named others, some of whom I knew and others I did not. Then he said they had all been outstanding students and great examples.

As I savored the undeserved limelight for those few moments, I was grateful for a string of LDS students who had preceded me at Indiana University. I was grateful for the impressions and influence these students had made on the life of this professor and probably others. I was determined not to mar the reputation of myself or those who had left such a legacy of example. This legacy was a motivation to me throughout my schooling at Indiana and my professional life. These accolades came because of a value system reflected in the lives of the students, a value system based upon the principles and doctrines of the gospel, a value system included and taught in the curriculum of BYU. At Indiana, I was grateful for the footprints that had been left and the candles that had been lit. You also can leave footprints and light candles.

I am thrilled when I hear the many stories of deacons quorum presidents who have caught the vision and occasionally are teaching all or part of the lesson in their quorum meetings. Several weeks ago I attended a deacons quorum class. A 12-year-old boy gave a 25-minute lesson on the Atonement. He commenced by asking his fellow deacons what they thought the Atonement was. Then he shared some meaningful scriptures and asked thoughtful questions, to which they responded. Realizing, however, there was more time than remaining lesson material, he had enough presence of mind and perhaps some forewarning from his father to ask the leaders who were present what questions they had been asked about the Atonement on their missions and their responses. He then concluded with his testimony. I listened in awe. I thought to myself, “I don’t recall ever giving a significant part of a lesson when I was an Aaronic Priesthood youth.” We can raise the bar and vision for these young men, and they will respond.

Another mother was concerned one day that her 16-year-old daughter was not home at the usual hour. When the girl finally arrived, her mother quizzed her with some frustration about where she had been. The 16-year-old almost sheepishly replied that she had taken a flower to a widow who lived nearby. She had noticed the older sister looking lonely and felt prompted to visit her. With her mother’s complete approval, the young woman continued to visit the elderly woman. They became good friends, and their sweet association continued for years.

“But, Mom, I don’t want to go to church today!” Trevor complained. “I want to stay home and play outside. We get a vacation from school in the summer, so why can’t we take a vacation from church now too?”
Trevor’s mother smiled as she asked, “What do you think would happen if Heavenly Father took a summer vacation from watching over us and helping us? Besides, you have all the rest of the week to play outside.”
The next day Trevor did play outside. He played long and hard. Late in the afternoon, while he was racing his bike with his friends, he turned his head to see how far ahead of them he was. In that instant his bike hit a rock, and the next thing Trevor knew, he was in a hospital bed with a big cast on his left leg and a huge bandage on his head.
As Trevor lay there, his leg was held up by a chain and pulley. He couldn’t turn; he could only lie on his back. The doctors told him that he would have to lie that way for at least four weeks! His whole summer was ruined!
To just lie still in the big hospital bed was the hardest work that Trevor had ever done. His mom, dad, and sisters came to visit him every day. They brought books to read and tapes and games that he could play while lying down. This helped, but each day still seemed like forever.
When Sunday came, Trevor knew that his family would go to church and wouldn’t come to see him till late afternoon. Trevor colored in his new coloring book, then read some of his books. Nothing feels right. This is Sunday, and I would be in church if I were home. That would feel right, he told himself.
Trevor thought about his Primary class. They’re probably in Sharing Time right now, singing some of my favorite songs. Maybe they’ll play that Bible story gamethat Sister Hinton taught us last week. Trevor wondered what Sister Norman’s lesson would be about today. Last week it had been about “Forgiveness.” He really did like the lessons. Even though it was hard to sit still sometimes, Sister Norman could always tell when everyone needed to wiggle a little. She would have them play the wiggle game until they got all their wiggles out. The more Trevor thought about church, the more he wished that he could be there.
The next week wasn’t any easier for Trevor. He kept thinking about not being able to go to church on Sunday. After lying still for days and days, sitting for three hours didn’t seem quite so impossible anymore.
When Sunday came again, the morning seemed to get longer and longer. Trevor looked at the clock on the wall. Sharing Time is just getting over, and everyone will be going to their classes. I bet the lesson’s a good one, Trevor thought sadly.
About ten minutes later Sister Norman appeared in the doorway! “Hello, Trevor. May we come in?” she asked.
“Wow! Yes! Yes!” Trevor shouted happily.
Sister Norman was followed by the other four children in Trevor’s Primary class. Each child carried cards and letters that all the children in Primary had made for Trevor during Sharing Time.
After a few minutes of visiting, Sister Norman said, “Trevor, we all missed you so much that we decided that Primary wasn’t Primary without you, and we decided to bring Primary to you today.”
The children all sat down around the bed while Sister Norman gave her lesson on kindness to others.
All too soon the lesson was over, and it was time for Trevor’s class to go. Before she left, Sister Norman said, “Trevor, if it’s all right with you, till you’re well, we’d like to visit you each week and give you the Primary lesson, just like we have at the ward.”
“Oh,” Trevor said, “that would be just great! Thank you.”
After his class had left, Trevor thought, I’m glad that Primary doesn’t stop during the summer. And I’m especially glad that Heavenly Father doesn’t take a summer vacation!

Fifteen-year-old Andy Tuitupou’s feet left the court long enough to grab the rebound during basketball practice. Gliding through the air, Andy was confident—he was good-looking, popular, active in his teachers quorum in our Utah ward, and a member of the school basketball team. But when his feet touched the ground again, his life changed. His strong body crashed to the floor—never to walk again.
Surgeons pinned and cast Andy’s broken leg. Pain became his constant companion. Long days, determination, and patience seemed to bring only more suffering. Although Andy gave it his all, physical therapists weren’t able to help him learn to walk again.
In desperation Paul and Carolyn Tuitupou, Andy’s parents, took him to a hospital where skilled surgeons operated and found the source of Andy’s intense pain: bone cancer. Andy made the difficult decision to have the doctors amputate his leg. Whatever the price, he wanted to beat the cancer.
Several days after the amputation, Andy asked me—his bishop—if he could receive his patriarchal blessing. I wondered what a blessing would hold for a young man facing possible death. I rushed to my office to get a patriarchal blessing recommend. Then I jumped in my car and headed for Andy’s bedside, where I found him waiting patiently for his interview. I asked Andy where he was getting his obvious strength and peace. “From the things I learned in family home evening,” he answered without hesitation. Andy was worthy to receive a patriarchal blessing.
As I visited with him throughout the next few months, I saw him as a brother who loved his family, friends, the gospel, and life. Although his spiritual health was strong, his physical well-being seemed only to worsen. Chemotherapy treatments left him violently nauseated for four or five days each week.
All hopes of a cure were dashed when a tumor in Andy’s hip erupted. His lungs began failing as cancerous tumors started their deadly invasion. But Andy wasn’t content to watch life pass him by. With the help of a devoted Scout leader, Andy soon fulfilled the requirements for his Eagle Award.
During one of my routine visits with this young member of my ward, I felt prompted to set up a formal appointment for his annual priesthood interview on the next Sunday.
On Sunday I headed for the hospital and found Andy in agony with his eyes closed. Not wanting to disturb him, I quietly sat by his bedside. After several minutes of listening to Andy’s labored breathing, I heard him whisper, “Bishop, are you going to interview me?”
After a tender prayer, I began the interview.
“Andy, are you morally clean?”
“Yes.”
“Do you honor your priesthood?”
“Yes.”
Our interview was a spiritual feast. After I asked him all my questions, he had one for me: “Bishop, how many priesthood blessings can I have?”
“As many as you want,” I said.
A few days later, I awoke to a ringing telephone.
“Andy is pretty bad. Can you come over?” Carolyn Tuitupou asked.
When I reached my friend, he asked for a blessing and then said, “I want to go home.”
As his humbled bishop, I placed my hands on my young friend’s head and knew Andy was nearing the end of his mission on earth. I asked the Lord to please take Andy home if it was His will.
After the blessing, I held Andy’s hand and said to him, “It’s okay to go home, little brother; it’s okay to go home.”
Before he went home, though, he had a few things to finish. Andy’s pain subsided, and breathing became easier, enabling him to talk to each of his brothers and his sister privately. He expressed his love to each of them and challenged his brothers to serve missions.
When I talked to him again, I asked him what he wanted me to tell the youth in the ward.
“Tell them you don’t have to be ‘cool’ for your friends; real friends don’t care if you’re ‘cool,’” he said.
Andy called several special people on the phone to say good-bye. He called an aunt he was close to and wanted to challenge her to become active in the Church again. Afraid of offending her, he didn’t quite have the courage to do it.
I looked at Andy and knew I had one last calling for him.
“Andy, will you serve as a ward missionary?”
Andy smiled. “Yes.”
I once again placed my hands on his head. After I set him apart, I gave him his first assignment: “Andy, I want you to get on the phone and bear your testimony to your aunt.”
I left the room, and he went to work—an honorable missionary.
Throughout the day, friends and neighbors dropped by to see Andy. Because it is traditional in the Tongan culture to sing in front of the home of someone who is dying, a member of the ward organized a group to come later that evening and honor Andy by singing on the Tuitupous’ front lawn.
Midafternoon, Andy’s breathing became very labored. His father and I laid our hands on his head. Brother Tuitupou pleaded with Heavenly Father to allow his son to return home. Andy died in his mother’s arms.
Their front yard was soon full of ward members singing Andy’s favorite hymn, “Because I Have Been Given Much” (Hymns, number 219). Music surrounded the home, and the family wept as love filled their hearts.
Although the Tuitupou family said an early good-bye to their son and brother, they knew they had been given much: the chance to love and learn from Andy.

Riiiing!
Got to go! I have lots of homework. Thanks for dinner!
But we just barely sat down!
The next day …
I haven’t finished my math homework or my history paper.
I haven’t seen my family very much.
I’m really tired.
I haven’t read the scriptures or prayed in a while.
“We have to forego some good things in order to choose others that are better or best because they develop faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and strengthen our families.”
President Dallin H. Oaks, First Counselor in the First Presidency, Oct. 2007 general conference (Ensign or Liahona, Nov. 2007, 107).
I think I need to make some changes.
Hey! Are you coming to chess club today?
No, not today.
Good move!