Gospel Story Finder

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints found fertile ground in Nana Esi Ninsin VIII’s community through her own spiritual journey. After years of observing and studying the Church online, she formally joined in 2017 alongside her brother Charles and cousin Joannes. But the Church did not meet in a chapel; it met in her palace.

With no formal meetinghouse nearby, Nana Esi Ninsin VIII opened her palace for Sunday services, missionary lessons, and gospel study. Her home became a sanctuary for faith and fellowship, especially for those curious but hesitant to attend a formal church.

“I invited the missionaries to come during our skills training,” she explains. “We’d have an hour of gospel teaching before the training began.” This grassroots approach helped the Church gain traction in a predominantly Muslim community, where religious diversity required sensitivity and trust building.

During the final phases of World War II, I turned eighteen years old and was ordained an elder—one week before I departed for active duty with the United States Navy. A member of my ward bishopric was at the train station to bid me farewell. Just before train time, he placed in my hand a book. Its title, the Missionary Handbook. I laughed and commented, “I’m not going on a mission.” He answered, “Take it anyway. It may come in handy.”
It did. During basic training our company commander instructed us concerning how we might best pack our clothing in a large sea bag. He advised, “If you have a hard, rectangular object you can place in the bottom of the bag, your clothes will stay more firm.” I suddenly remembered just the right rectangular object—the Missionary Handbook. Thus it served for twelve weeks.
The night preceding our Christmas leave our thoughts were, as always, on home. The barracks were quiet. Suddenly I became aware that my buddy in the adjoining bunk—a Mormon boy, Leland Merrill—was moaning with pain. I asked, “What’s the matter, Merrill?”
He replied, “I’m sick. I’m really sick.”
I advised him to go to the base dispensary, but he answered knowingly that such a course would prevent him from being home for Christmas.
The hours lengthened; his groans grew louder. Then, in desperation, he whispered, “Monson, Monson, aren’t you an elder?” I acknowledged this to be so; whereupon he asked, “Give me a blessing.”
I became very much aware that I had never given a blessing. I had never received such a blessing; I had never witnessed a blessing being given. My prayer to God was a plea for help. The answer came: “Look in the bottom of the sea bag.” Thus, at 2:00 A.M. I emptied on the deck the contents of the bag. I then took to the night-light that hard, rectangular object, the Missionary Handbook, and read how one blesses the sick. With about sixty curious sailors looking on, I proceeded with the blessing. Before I could put away my gear, Leland Merrill was sleeping like a child.
The next morning Merrill smilingly turned to me and said, “Monson, I’m glad you hold the priesthood.” His gladness was only surpassed by my gratitude.

The Taylors heard the restored gospel as a result of some unusual circumstances. In 1836, Parley P. Pratt was sent to Toronto by revelation to preach the gospel. Concerning Elder Pratt’s mission to Canada, Elder Heber C. Kimball had prophesied, “From the things growing out of this mission, shall the fullness of the gospel spread into England.” (See Roberts, page 35.) Elder Pratt received from a stranger a letter of introduction to a John Taylor in Toronto. But when he called at the Taylors’ home, his reception there was polite but not exactly cordial. Later, after presenting his message to the ministers in the city, Elder Pratt prepared to leave. Valise in hand, he was saying good-bye to John Taylor when a neighbor—a member of the Taylors’ religious study group—came in, offered her home for Elder Pratt to preach in, and proposed to lodge and feed him. As a result, John and Leonora Taylor heard Elder Pratt preach. This was John’s response to his group of friends:

“We are here, ostensibly in search of the truth. Hitherto we have fully investigated other creeds and doctrines and proven them false. Why should we fear to investigate Mormonism? This gentleman, Mr. Pratt, has brought to us many doctrines that correspond with our own views. … We have prayed to God to send us a messenger, if He has a true Church on earth. … I desire to investigate his doctrines and claims to authority, and shall be very glad if some of my friends will unite with me in this investigation. But if no one will unite with me, be assured I shall make the investigation alone. If I find his religion true, I shall accept it, no matter what the consequences may be; but if false, then I shall expose it.” (See Roberts, pages 38–39.)

For three weeks, John Taylor followed Elder Pratt from place to place, copying down sermons as Elder Pratt delivered them—and then privately comparing them with the scriptures. Satisfied that the missionary was teaching the truth, John and Leonora Taylor joined the Church. Twenty-eight-year-old John was ordained an elder and was placed in charge of the Church in Canada when the missionaries returned to their homes.

I love to feel the Spirit. It’s a feeling I can confidently say I recognize now.

But that took work. Where I grew up in the north of England, it was often hard to place myself in an environment that allowed me to feel the Holy Ghost. There are so many great young adults there who grew up in the Church, yet it was sometimes difficult to align our behaviors with the doctrine and truths we knew in our hearts.

For a long time, I attended church on Sundays but felt frustrated and sad knowing that the things the Spirit was communicating to me were not getting through to others whom I love and care for.

However, I’m learning the importance of making room for the Spirit in all areas of my life and helping others do the same.

After graduating from secondary school, I faced a lot of difficulties. For example, there are lots of activities and conferences for young adult members of the Church where I live. But after these activities, some young adults would go to clubs or places that weren’t aligned with our values.

That shocked me!

Drinking alcohol and clubbing are common here, but I didn’t expect friends I sat by in church to do those things too.

I was confused.

Seeing friends make these decisions made it really hard to know who would help me stay spiritually strong. Eventually, because I saw others living the gospel casually, I was led away from the gospel too. I wasn’t going to church or praying, and I was doing things I shouldn’t have been doing.

But one day, when I was feeling particularly miserable, I prayed to Heavenly Father and told Him my feelings. I told Him I wanted the Church to be true and I wanted to understand His commandments, but it was so hard to even consider standing alone. But I told Him that if I could find reassurance of the truths of the gospel, I would listen and put my heart into living it again.

A few days later, I felt a distinct spiritual impression that I needed to serve a mission.

The thought really came out of nowhere. But I could feel the Spirit nudging me in that direction. I knew that preparing for a mission would enable me to remember my testimony, to rebuild my relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, and to rely on my own faith—not anyone else’s.

And that was my desire.

So, I started to change. It took a lot of spiritual work. I had to stop hanging out with certain friends, I broke up with the person I was dating, and I had to replace my bad habits with better ones. I worked with my bishop and relied on Jesus Christ’s enabling power to help me move forward.

Before my mission, I didn’t understand commandments and covenants. My friends were treating these blessings like burdens, and I had started seeing them that way too. But after serving a mission and rebuilding my faith, I now see covenants and commandments as blessed responsibilities that help me maintain divine, direct connection with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ—every day.

Sometimes it makes me sad that others don’t see the exquisite blessings of the gospel of Jesus Christ. At times, I just want to shake them by the shoulders and remind them of the miracle their covenants are! I want them to realize what the Savior can enable them to do and become!

But while I can’t control others, I can keep my testimony strong. I can know when to step away from some people’s influence and also know how to be a good influence on them.

I think that is what brought me back after I struggled with my faith: remembering the love of my Savior, Jesus Christ.

I know I wouldn’t have gone on a mission if I hadn’t asked Heavenly Father for divine direction in a time of deep confusion. As much as I wish I hadn’t had to go through those painful experiences, I learned so much about repentance, about Heavenly Father’s perfect love, and about the importance of prioritizing good relationships (especially with Him and our Savior) that keep us connected to the Spirit.

Despite the hard parts, rebuilding my faith in Him was worth everything.

“When I became an assistant to the mission president, it was difficult initially,” recalls Houston. “I had to train missionaries, including some who had more education than I had. I felt inadequate until I prayed and received a testimony that ‘whom the Lord calls, the Lord qualifies’ (Thomas S. Monson quoting Harold B. Lee, “Who Honors God, God Honors,” Ensign, November 1995, 50). This knowledge helped me proceed.”

When my bishop told me, “The Lord is calling you on a mission,” his words seemed to have a different meaning than they had two years before, when he made the call for the first time.
I was 18 then, a newly ordained elder and busy preparing myself to enter medical school. Besides that, my parents had been inactive for a long time and had never properly trained me to accept such a call if it ever came. I felt these were sufficient reasons for me to say no but decided to ask for some time to think about it. I approached my father and, as I expected, he emphatically refused to let me accept the mission call.
I thought I had been smart enough to fool everybody, but in fact I was the only one being fooled. About a year later, just before I was to take the long-awaited entrance test to medical school, the Lord called me again. This time I resolved to pray about it. I told the Lord that the result of the test would be the answer to my doubts. If I passed, I would understand that my mission would be medical school; if I failed, a proselyting mission would be what he wanted from me.
I passed the entrance exam. Blessings were poured upon me in an avalanche. My father changed to a better-paying job, which he needed to pay for my expensive studies. The lessons in medical school entered my mind with incredible ease, and I became an outstanding student. I became engaged to a wonderful LDS girl, even though she lived 360 miles away and we met just a few times a year. Good health, so seldom enjoyed before, became steady in my family. I was called to be a counselor in the Campinas Stake Sunday School presidency. Through the efforts of the home teachers, my younger sister became active again in seminary. The Lord was blessing us abundantly.
But two years later, I was sitting right there before my bishop once again, being reminded of my obligation to the Lord’s work on the earth. I felt different about it this time, but I was still reluctant to accept. I wanted the Lord himself to tell me what to do. Scriptures that promised marvelous blessings, shown to me by returned missionaries and the bishopric, did not seem to help.
Praying was not enough either. I fasted also, asking the Lord to give me an unmistakable answer so that I would not be left in doubt. It seemed like a fierce battle inside me, my spirit contending against my mortal reasoning. I was nearly exhausted from it when I felt the “burning in my bosom” and knew the Lord had revealed that accepting a mission call was what he wanted from me.
The first round had been won. Now the scriptures would give me strength to support an unshakable faith in God. I knew that other trials would come but not so soon.
When I phoned my fiancée to wish her a happy birthday, she asked about my decision. I told her I had decided to go on a mission, but that I would like to talk with her when she came to see me in a few weeks. She insisted that we talk about it right then. Her sweet voice became choked as if something bitter were being swallowed against her will. We said good-bye.
I went to my room to pray to my Heavenly Father so she could understand and accept my decision. A little later the phone rang and that same sweet voice said with firmness, “Thank you for the birthday gift.” At first I thought she was being ironic, but then I realized she was sincere.
Little by little the Lord was showing that he had prepared the way for me. However, I felt that I would need his help a lot more when I talked to my father. My father is a good man, but his hard life had made him tough and materialistic. Such an outlook would prevent him from accepting my decision.
On a Sunday afternoon, when we were alone in our backyard, I decided to tell my father. He listened until I finished and then asked very dryly, “Is this your will?” I nodded. “Very well, now listen! When you took this course you destroyed the love that existed within me for you. I am not going to drive you out of the house but from my heart. Those medical school stickers that I proudly exhibit on the windshield of my car will be removed, and you will have to do much to put them back on. You tore down a great dream of my life, and as far as I am concerned you fell down with it.”
I tried to answer him and express my great love for him, but my words stopped in my throat. I wished that the whole world would fall upon me for bringing such great suffering to my father, whom I loved so much.
Time went by. My father went to stake leaders to try to stop me. In a last and desperate attempt he went to the stake president. When he returned home that night, he had only harsh words for me.
While I prayed to the Lord to give my father understanding, the Spirit dictated to me that I should listen to him without saying a word. The night before he was to talk to the stake president again, he was sitting alone in the backyard. He said the moonlight made the night clear. He took the opportunity to pray to the Lord in the way he knows and said, “Father, I know that you have given me everything, but do you need to collect all at once? You know I cannot bear it.” In that very moment the backyard became filled with shadows that started to move towards him. My father became stricken with fear and ran to his room like a frightened child. He spent the whole night talking to my strong and sweet mother. That long talk with my mother and his interview with the stake president, when both cried, were enough to change his thinking.
And then came the night that I will never forget. I was in the kitchen peeling a pineapple for our dessert when my father came home. He stopped behind me, placed his briefcase on the floor, and said, “May I talk to you?”
I was already getting used to his aggressive talking. I answered yes and continued to peel the pineapple. “Listen, young man, when I talk to someone I like him to look into my eyes.” I stopped, turned to him, and heard him say with a calm and tender voice, “My son, go and do what you have decided to do because the Lord has told me that it is right. You can count on me for help because I love you very much.” We embraced each other, and the Lord bound the heart of the father to the son and of the son to the father. Tears of joy rolled down our cheeks.
And now my longing for my fiancée and my parents, my desire to attend medical school, and even my disappointment at having to turn down a long-awaited job—all of this is overshadowed by the joy of having received a letter from President Kimball saying, “Dear Elder Areas. You are being called by the Lord to work in the Brazil, Rio de Janeiro Mission. …”

“I’m home!” Daddy called. He was home early for Wyatt’s birthday. Wyatt turned five today!
Wyatt ran to him. Daddy gave him a big hug. “After lunch, you and I will go to the park,” Daddy said.
“Just us?” Wyatt asked. He loved his mom and his little sister, Maria, but sometimes he wanted to do things with just Daddy.
“Just us,” Daddy said.
Mommy made a lunch with all of Wyatt’s favorites. She also made a crown out of gold paper and glitter.
“Is that for me?” Wyatt asked, eyes wide.
“It is,” Mommy said.
It was a special birthday!
Wyatt wore the crown to the park. It kept slipping off his head, but he didn’t mind. “Daddy, does my birthday crown make me special?” he asked.
Daddy smiled. “A birthday crown is fun, but it’s not what makes you special. You are special because you are a child of God! And so is everyone else. That means everyone is special too.”
Daddy and Wyatt played on the playground. Wyatt went down the slide.
“Do you think I can go down the slide too?” Daddy asked.
Wyatt giggled. “You’re too big.”
Wyatt climbed up the ladder to go down the slide again. A girl was in front of him. She was afraid to go down. Wyatt thought about how everyone was special to Heavenly Father.
“You can do it!” he said.
She slid down the slide. So did Wyatt.
“Good job!” Wyatt said. She smiled at him, and he smiled back.
Being kind made Wyatt happy! He knew everyone was special, whether they had a birthday crown or not.

The bell rang on Friday afternoon, and everyone quickly filed out of the school. Finally, my school week was over, and it was time to have some fun with my friends. We threw our backpacks into the trunk of my car and hopped in.
I was the first of my group of friends to have access to a car, so I was usually the driver. I was also the only Latter-day Saint in the group and, even though I had good friends, their standards were sometimes different from mine.
As we drove that day, my friends used swear words to dress up their stories. As in times past, it bothered me. So I thought about how I could cut down on the swearing and make the language of our group better. I knew my friends were aware and respectful of my values, but would they get mad if I expected them to uphold one of those values? I decided to try an idea.
“Hey, I’m trying out this new rule in my car where there’s no swearing allowed,” I said. They all gave me funny looks, but they went along with it. The result was amazing! Our conversations were hilarious because, instead of using swear words to express strong emotions, everyone found funnier ways to say things. It made our experiences in the car so much more enjoyable, and our friendships were strengthened as we kept the rule during car rides together.
I was so glad my friends were receptive to that no-swearing rule and were willing to uphold it in my car. It made me feel good to know I could stand up for my values and have my friends respect them. Best of all, it really made a difference in our friendships and helped us all to better appreciate the effects good language can have on people’s lives.

My family suffered in silence regarding my brother’s struggles for a long time. We endured self-imposed shame for years. Addiction was taboo, so we didn’t talk about it. We thought drug addiction wasn’t supposed to affect families who were doing their best to live the gospel and follow Jesus Christ. We were so afraid of what people would think if they found out. My parents constantly blamed themselves for my brother’s decisions, I would hide what was happening from my friends, and we would dodge all questions about my brother. Little did we know that not talking about it made our circumstances more painful than they already were.
Now I face my brother’s addiction differently. And that’s the key word: face. For so many years, I turned away from it and hid it from everyone else, but now I face it head-on with my family. We seek support and we try to support others. As the years have gone by, we’ve discovered that addiction affects many families in many different forms—and there’s no need to feel ashamed or to hide. It needs to be talked about, and those who have been hurt by it, whether they be loved ones or those who struggle themselves, need less judgment and more support, compassion, understanding, and love. No one should have to suffer alone.

All the way down the long hall, Susan held on to her mother’s hand. She tried to hang back and keep from going into the Primary room.
Her mother gently pulled her along, then opened the door and tugged her into a room filled with children. They were seated with their arms folded, listening to the quiet music. Susan hid behind her mother’s skirt.
A woman came up and talked to Mother. Susan peeked around and up into the woman’s face. It looked nice. The woman smiled at her, and Susan ducked back. Then the woman beckoned to another lady, who came forward. Susan hid again.
The three women talked together, but Susan couldn’t tell what they were saying. She peeked out again at the new lady, who had gray hair and a merry face full of wrinkles. Susan knew that her smile was a permanent part of her, because all the wrinkles curved upwards.
With a flutter of her skirts, the woman knelt beside Susan so quickly that Susan didn’t have time to hide. She looked away, but the lady turned Susan’s face back toward her. Then her hands began a graceful dance.
Susan stared in amazement. Then a warm feeling began to grow inside her.
The hands were talking to her! “Hello, my name is Sister White. I am your Primary teacher. Welcome to our ward.”
Susan’s hands moved. “How do you know sign language?”
“My son is deaf. I learned so that I could talk to him.”
Susan nodded. That was good.
“Come,” her teacher’s hands insisted. “Let’s sit with your Primary class. The Star-A class is over here.”
Susan disappeared behind her mother again. She was afraid. Sometimes children made fun of her because she couldn’t hear.
Mother drew her gently out. “It will be all right,” she signed. “They will take good care of you.”
Susan put her hand into Sister White’s and walked over to her class. Her head hung down so that she couldn’t see the other children’s faces. Then she watched her teacher reverently talk with her hands, signing the scripture and the prayer. Then Sister White added, “We need to stand and sing the song.”
Susan was bewildered. She looked at Sister White, who beamed and nodded.
The children stood, and Susan watched in amazement. They were singing with their hands! Soon she recognized the song. Her hands joined in too.
As I have loved you, Love one another.
This new commandment: Love one another. … *
When the song was finished, everyone sat down. Then one by one children turned around and smiled shyly at Susan. She held her head high and smiled back. No one in this ward would laugh or make fun of her. They all welcomed her, just as Jesus welcomed everyone.

The sophomore math whiz sat in the classroom after school waiting for the football star to come in for his weekly tutoring session. The guy who enjoys algebra, calculus, and trigonometry would spend an extra hour or so each week teaching polynomial expressions and practicing exponential equations with the football hero, whom many called the best high school running back in the country. Turning upfield for another 10-yard gain he could do. But algebra? Linear inequalities were something of a challenge. That’s when the tutor came to the rescue.
When the school year ended, so did the tutoring sessions. The tutor had his junior year to look forward to while the tutor’s “student” graduated and accepted an athletic scholarship to the University of Miami.
That’s when the math whiz says, “Someday when he’s a famous running back in the National Football League, I can tell my kids I taught him math.”
It’s a year later, and once again Maurice Navarro is sitting in a classroom at Coral Gables Senior High near Miami, Florida. School ended 30 minutes ago, but, just like the year before, a group of students is gathered around Maurice as he teaches a math concept his fellow students aren’t quite understanding.
That’s Maurice Navarro. Still the math tutor. Still helping others.

1 I was living in Germany, and World War II had just ended. We had little food and few clothes, especially shoes. My mother felt that it would be safer and less lonely if she, my sister, and I moved to my grandparents’ home in Tubingen.
2 Our first winter there was very cold. We didn’t have enough coats and shoes for everyone, so family members took turns going out for wood and food.
One winter morning new snow had fallen. The sun was shining, and everything looked downy soft. I wanted to go outside and play, but I knew that I couldn’t because I had no shoes.
3 Whenever I had wanted to go outside before, Grandpa had carried me on his back. Once, Aunt Bertha had wrapped me in blankets and taken me on a short sleigh ride. But I wanted to go out in the snow all by myself and play.
4 I could hear other children playing outside. I pressed my face against the frost-covered window and dreamed of being with them. Softly I said, “Oh, please let me have a pair of shoes.” I heard the door behind me close, and I wondered who else had been in the room.
5 That night I prayed very hard for a pair of shoes, and I dreamed about shoes all night.
6 When I woke up the next morning, a heavy brown package was on the foot of my bed. I carefully opened it. Inside was a beautiful pair of wooden shoes just my size! No one in my family seemed to know who had left them there.
7 I begged to go outside right away. Mother put a heavy pair of socks on my feet, then the new shoes, and out I went.
Grandfather stood on the porch, watching me play in the snow. He had a smile on his face and tears in his eyes. His secret present had been made with a great deal of love.

Last year I had the opportunity to take part in a massive relief effort in the devastated city of Joplin, Missouri, which had been hit by a tornado. I saw and experienced many things, some of which are difficult to even put into words. One particular experience has caused me to do a great deal of pondering.
We were at a house that was completely devastated, searching through what seemed like endless piles of rubble and debris. We were merely trying to see if anything at all was salvageable in this heap of mostly indistinguishable remains that were once somebody’s personal belongings. Not much turned up, but in the midst of the work and the commotion, something caught my attention and caused me to pause for a moment. Among the rubble that we couldn’t distinguish, I discovered a picture of the Savior.
I stopped for a brief moment, put the picture with the other few salvaged items, and for the rest of the day continued to carry out the tasks we were assembled to perform.
On reflecting about this small and seemingly insignificant event, I’ve been reminded of a valuable lesson. There in the most devastated, most hopeless situation imaginable, among what seemingly couldn’t be salvaged, I found the Savior. His love was evident in the inspiring relief efforts that took place in Joplin, Missouri.
This small moment has reminded me that no matter how hopeless or lost we find ourselves in life, we can always find the Savior. In fact, the Savior Jesus Christ seemed to be the only thing that stood out from the surrounding devastation. I’m reminded of all the times I and others were helped through difficult times by the loving influence of Jesus Christ.

In 2017, after returning from my mission, I embarked on an academic journey fueled by faith and determination. I enrolled in a computer school, dedicating a year to acquiring valuable skills. My resolve grew stronger, leading me to take the university entrance exam. To my delight, I was successfully admitted that same year.
Amidst my academic pursuits, I learned about the Benson Agricultural and Food Scholarship. Despite applying twice, I faced disappointment as there were insufficient funds. However, my fortune changed when I met Karen Melby Teerlink, the missionary couple dedicated to welfare. With their support, I was finally awarded the scholarship.
Since receiving the Benson scholarship, my life has transformed remarkably. At Stella Maris Polytechnic University, I consistently achieved honor roll status, a testament to the comprehensive support provided by the scholarship, covering all fees, including books and other expenses.
The scholarship alleviated my financial struggles, allowing me to focus on my studies. This opportunity enabled me to serve as a student leader, a favorite among students, and a trusted communicator within the administration. I had the privilege to conduct surveys for the Center for Agricultural Research Institute (CARI) on integrated rice and fish farming, and for World Fish under CARI, as well as a survey for Solidaridad on cocoa seeding and plantain suckers. These experiences were invaluable and only possible because of the scholarship.
Today, I am proud to be the first in my family to earn a BS degree. This milestone sets a precedent for my siblings, encouraging them to pursue higher education. Inspired by the scholarship’s impact, I initiated an animal husbandry project, starting with pig raising and planning to expand to other animals like goats and cattle. My vision includes establishing an agribusiness that encompasses the entire value chain process, benefiting end consumers.
Currently, I am pursuing agribusiness studies at BYU-Idaho, an opportunity made possible by the scholarship and the support of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I am immensely grateful for these blessings and the positive changes in my life. The scholarship has not only advanced my education but also instilled a deep sense of responsibility to give back to society with the knowledge and skills I have gained.
My journey is a testament to the power of faith, perseverance, and the profound impact of the Benson Scholarship. I am committed to making a difference in my community and beyond, forever indebted to those who have supported me along the way.

At the end of 2020, I was finding it difficult to feel the spirit of Christmas, so I listened to John Bytheway’s book, Born This Happy Morning1, for ideas. In one chapter, he shares an experience where he purchased tyres for a woman he had just met.
That joy and satisfaction was exactly what was missing in my life. That Christmas, I believed this feeling would help me focus more on my Saviour, so in December, I fasted to become an instrument in Heavenly Father’s hands. I wanted to help someone—spontaneously or unexpectedly—so they would know He cares for them, and also that I might feel the peace and joy of the season. As I tried to explain to Heavenly Father what I was fasting for, I ultimately said the words: “You know, like John Bytheway and the tyres”.
I spent the following days actively looking for opportunities to serve, then, while I was enjoying a night out with a dear friend, she briefly mentioned she needed new tyres!
My jaw dropped and my heart swelled as I heard the Spirit clearly speak to me: “Sarah, here are your tyres and the answer to your fast.”
I maneuvered the conversation back to the tyres and discovered that while my friend and her husband knew their tyres had to be replaced soon, in recent days, they both felt an even more urgent need for new tyres.
I told her about my fast and that I felt that this was Heavenly Father’s answer to my prayers. I then asked if I could pay for their tyres.
My friend went silent for some time, and then she nodded. After several more emotional moments, she explained that she and her husband could not currently afford the tyres they needed, but they still followed the promptings they both had received and organised the new set. It turned out, the exact day that I was fasting for an experience, ‘you know, like John Bytheway and the tyres’, they were fasting for a way to be able to pay for theirs.
I can assure you I was not expecting the answer to my fast to be so literal! But how perfectly timed and miraculously specific was the Lord’s response to each of our prayers.
If this miracle ended here, it would still be a favourite hear-Him moment in my life. However, just two days after this beautiful family got new tyres, my friend called. I was unable to take her call, which I love, because it means I still have her voicemail on my phone explaining that earlier that day, as she was driving with her young children, in torrential rain, a car with no brake lights pulled dangerously into the traffic ahead and she had to slam on the brakes. They safely came to a halt, and she knew immediately that if they still had their old tyres, they would have run right into the car in front. She said it was a miracle and ended the call with, “So, thank you”.

I also encourage all parents hearing or reading this message to make the Book of Mormon an important part of your home. As our children were growing, we read the Book of Mormon as we ate breakfast. This is the bookmark that we used. On the front is a quote from President Benson promising that God would pour out a blessing upon us as we read the Book of Mormon.11 On the back is this promise from President Marion G. Romney, formerly a counselor in the First Presidency: “I feel certain that if, in our homes, parents will read from the Book of Mormon prayerfully and regularly, both by themselves and with their children, the spirit of that great book will come to permeate our homes and all who dwell therein. … The spirit of contention will depart. Parents will counsel their children in greater love and wisdom. Children will be more responsive and submissive to the counsel of their parents. Righteousness will increase. Faith, hope, and charity—the pure love of Christ—will abound in our homes and lives, bringing in their wake peace, joy, and happiness.”12

Now, many years after our children have left home and are raising their own families, we can see clearly the fulfillment of President Romney’s promise. Our family is far from perfect, but we can testify of the power of the Book of Mormon and the blessings that reading it has brought and continues to bring into the lives of our whole family.

The story is told of a shy Latter-day Saint man who often sat on the back row of the chapel alone. When a member of the elder’s quorum suddenly passed away, the bishop gave priesthood blessings to comfort the elder’s family members. Relief Society sisters brought in food. Well-meaning friends and neighbors visited with the family and said, “Let us know if there is anything we can do to help.”

But when this shy man visited the family later in the day, he rang the doorbell and when the widow answered, he simply said, “I have come to clean your shoes.” In a couple of hours, all the family’s shoes were cleaned and shined in preparation for the funeral. The following Sunday the family of the deceased elder sat by the shy man on the back row.

Here was a man who was able to fill an unmet need. Both they and he were blessed by his empathy-guided ministering.

Fifteen years ago I, like Alma and the sons of Mosiah, experienced “a joyful meeting” (Alma 27:16). I had traveled from my home in Argentina to Salt Lake City to attend general conference and to perform temple ordinances there for my deceased relatives. To my surprise, in the corridors of the Salt Lake Temple, I ran into Brother Evans Jones, the missionary who baptized me 40 years before. Despite the passage of time, we joyfully recognized each other.

We had met previously in 1942, when I was 12 years old and living in Córdoba, Argentina. On 5 February of that year, a small group of us gathered at an irrigation canal for my baptismal service. I still remember the feeling I had when I stepped into the water and felt the muddy bottom under my naked feet. I walked carefully, knowing I was doing something very important. My heart beat loudly in my chest as I made sacred promises to the Lord.

Since then, I have been privileged to see the work of the Lord grow in Argentina as thousands have entered the waters of baptism. In those early days, we considered 10 people at church meetings good attendance. Today Argentina is home to 10 missions and 46 stakes, and we are blessed to have a temple in Buenos Aires.

Fifty-two years after my baptism, my assignment as a counselor in the Argentina Córdoba Mission presidency took me back by that canal. I was able to observe that the waters of the old canal are still running, still giving life to the plants growing there—just as my baptism in that water gave a new life to me, my family, and my posterity. Thank you, Elder Jones, and thank you to everyone who shares the precious treasure of the restored gospel.

For Mindy, a young mother of twin toddlers, the simple efforts of her ministering sister made a huge difference in her sacrament meeting experience every week.
“Because of my husband’s work schedule, I take our twin daughters to church by myself every week,” Mindy explains. “It’s really overwhelming to try to make it through all of sacrament meeting with two busy toddlers, but my ministering sister has taken it upon herself to help me.
“She sits with us and helps me take care of my girls every week. Just having her next to me means so much and really eases my anxiety in their moments of tantrums or fussiness. I don’t think she’ll ever know how much her actions have impacted me at this time in my life. She saw my need as a young, anxiety-filled mother, and she helps make church a peaceful and happy place for all of us.”

Watching their older sisters gain their testimonies has been a big boost to the development of their own faith. Erin remembers her first year at girls’ camp. She felt lonely, and the bugs were horrible. She wasn’t having a very good time, but her older sister, Lindsay, was there to help.
“She was being so positive and was trying to help me have a good time. I remember my first testimony meeting. I was too afraid to get up, but she got up and talked about her feelings about the gospel and how much we share together. We were both crying. It really strengthened my testimony. Even though it was five years ago, it still is a really big faith builder for me.”