Gospel Story Finder

Following his RAF service, Elder Kearon’s father went to work as a defense contractor in Saudi Arabia. Patrick, as a seven-year-old boy, learned an important lesson there in obedience, memorably recounted in his first general conference talk as a General Authority. Ignoring his parents’ instructions to wear shoes during a desert camping trip, he went exploring in “flip-flops” and suffered a scorpion sting in the arch of his foot.

“When I worked at the candy shop,” his older sister began, “I practically ate my paycheck each week in candy. I couldn’t help myself, it tasted so good. Finally after praying about it, I decided to set a candy quota for each day. If I stuck to my quota, I rewarded myself by taking the money I would have spent on candy and putting it toward a new pair of jeans. Some days I didn’t make it, but gradually I ate less candy. And I got the jeans!”

More than 30 years ago my medical school classmates and I learned that lesson in an unforgettable way. We will never forget it. Our experience took place in the little town of Manzanillo on Mexico’s western coast. The year was 1978. We were attending a meeting with our medical school graduating class and their wives.

One evening after the scientific sessions had been completed, one of the doctors suddenly became seriously ill. Without warning, he began to lose massive amounts of blood from his stomach. Totally stunned, we surrounded him, watching life’s precious blood flow out from him. There we were, medical specialists skilled in various disciplines—including surgeons, anesthesiologists, and internists—with wisdom gained through more than 30 years of experience. What could we do? The nearest hospital was in Guadalajara, more than 100 mountainous miles away. It was night. No planes could fly. Blood transfusions were out of the question because of lack of equipment. All of our combined knowledge could not be mobilized to stop his hemorrhage. We were totally without the facilities or equipment needed to save the life of our beloved friend.

Our stricken colleague, a faithful Latter-day Saint, was well aware of his plight. Ashen and pale, he whispered a request for the administration of a priesthood blessing. Several of us held the Melchizedek Priesthood. We responded to his request immediately. I was asked to seal the anointing. The Spirit dictated that he be blessed to the end that the bleeding would stop and that he would continue to live and return to his home. That blessing was administered in the name of the Lord.

The next morning, his condition had improved. Miraculously, the bleeding had stopped. His blood pressure had returned to normal. In a couple of days he was able to return to his home. Unitedly, we thanked the Lord for this most remarkable blessing.

The lesson we learned was simple: “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.”7 We experienced this firsthand. This doctrine, taught repeatedly in the scriptures,8 had now become our sure and certain knowledge.

My brethren and sisters, last Sunday as I sat in my study thinking of what I might say on this occasion, I received a phone call telling me that Staff Sergeant James W. Cawley of the U.S. Marines had been killed somewhere in Iraq. He was 41 years of age, leaving behind a wife and two small children.
Twenty years ago Elder Cawley was a missionary of the Church in Japan. Like so many others, he had grown up in the Church, had played as a schoolboy, had passed the sacrament as a deacon, and had been found worthy to serve a mission, to teach the gospel of peace to the people of Japan. He returned home, served in the Marines, married, became a policeman, and was then recalled to active military duty, to which he responded without hesitation.
His life, his mission, his military service, his death seem to represent the contradictions of the peace of the gospel and the tides of war.
And so I venture to say something about the war and the gospel we teach.

President Russell M. Nelson is a wonderful example of spiritual poise. One time, while then-Dr. Nelson was performing a quadruple coronary artery bypass, the patient’s blood pressure dropped suddenly. Dr. Nelson calmly assessed the situation and identified that a clamp was accidentally removed by one of the team members. It was replaced immediately, and Dr. Nelson comforted the team member, saying, “I still love you,” and then added jokingly, “Sometimes I love you more than other times!” He showed how an emergency should be handled—with poise, focused only on what matters most—addressing the emergency. President Nelson said: “It’s a matter of extreme self-discipline. Your natural reaction is, ‘Take me out, coach! I want to go home.’ But of course you can’t. A life is totally dependent on the whole surgical team. So you’ve got to stay just as calm and relaxed and sharp as you ever were.”

President Wheelwright and I have 18 adorable grandchildren, with one on the way, and each is a source of great delight to us. Of course they're all unique and talented but there seems to be about one per family that arrives with the "invention" bug, and they've come up with some pretty clever things!
Rachel is nine years old. When her older sister left for college, she begged her parents to turn her vacated room into a science lab to use for experiments and inventions. Though her parents refused, that didn't stop Rachel from inventing the Snazzy Page Turner to help her hold her music in place as she practices the piano.
Steele is eight years old. He recently took a bad fall while sledding, resulting in scrapes and bruises all over. During his convalescence he came up with this solution: He calls it the RareTip. Pretty ingenious! Luckily, he has a willing and capable dad to help with his big ideas.
Ben is four years old. Ben introduces himself to strangers by announcing, "My name is Ben and I'm an inventor!" Ben's favorite tools are twist ties, toilet paper rolls, and Elmer's glue. He recently asked his mother if she would please buy an emergency supply of 129 bottles of glue, so he would never run out. One of his bigger creations of late was an airplane that filled much of the garage, using every piece of scrap wood he could find, and more than a little glue.
As you might have realized by now, there's a fairly wide range of usefulness, not to mention safety, among these inventions. Some, though currently in prototype form, might actually prove helpful, like Rachel's Snazzy Page Turner or Steele's RareTip; others, like Ben's airplane, might be more of a liability than an asset, I'm afraid!
Life is a lot like that, isn't it? There are things we use, inventions, if you will, that make our lives easier, and other things we use that might actually make our lives harder. In fact, you may know certain people who just seem to have a gift for simplifying their lives, while others have a real knack for complicating things.
What's the difference? What is your friend who is always on time, always neatly groomed, and always remembering birthdays doing differently than your neighbor who seems to be perpetually "a day late and a dollar short?" What's the secret?

I was up in Wyoming some years ago talking to the young people. At the close of the meeting a boy came up to me and asked if he could shake my hand. I told him I couldn’t think of anything I would rather do at that moment than shake his hand. Looking up into my face, he said, “Brother Richards, my bishop will never need to worry about losing me.” I could have hugged him. I thought, Wouldn’t it be wonderful if every boy and girl in Israel could say this, for then truly they would be on the Lord’s side!

I am reminded of two young men who came in to see me some months ago. They had been recommended by their priesthood leaders. From the moment they stepped into the office, they began in a very sincere way questioning certain doctrines and teachings and procedures of the Church. Their attitude, however, was not antagonistic, as they were sincerely looking for answers.
I asked them finally if their questions perhaps represented the symptoms of their problem and not the cause. Wasn’t their real question whether or not this church is true? Whether or not it is actually the Church of Jesus Christ? And whether or not it is led by divine revelation? The young men agreed that perhaps if they were sure of the answers to these questions, they could take care of the other questions that seemed to arise in their hearts.
I asked them if they were willing to participate in an experiment. One of them appeared to be athletically inclined, and so I turned to him and asked, “If you wanted to learn about the chemical properties of water, would you go to the local sports stadium and run four laps around the track?”
He said, “Of course not.”
I asked, “Why not?”
He said, “The two are not related.”
We then turned to John, chapter seven, and read: “If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself.” (John 7:17.)
If we are going to experiment with the things of Christ, then we are going to have to put these things to a spiritual test—a test that the Savior himself has outlined for all those who wish to know, a test of doing.
I asked them if they read the scriptures.
They said, “No.”
I asked them if they prayed.
They said, “Not often.”
I asked them if they kept the Word of Wisdom.
They said, “Occasionally.”
I asked them if they went to church.
They said they’d stopped.
I asked them if they would be interested in a three-month experiment. They said they would try but were not anxious to commit themselves until they found out what I had in mind.
“During the next three months will you attend all your church meetings and listen carefully to what is being said, even taking notes of the principal points being made by the teachers and how these points might apply to your lives?”
They thought for a moment and said they would.
“During the next three months will you reinstitute in your personal life prayer, night and morning, thanking God for the blessings you enjoy and asking him to help you know if the Church is true and if the things you are doing are meaningful to your lives?”
One of these young men, who considered himself an agnostic, balked at this, but then he finally agreed to do it on the basis that for the sake of the experiment he would accept the premise that there is a God and would appeal to this God for the light and knowledge which he was seeking.
I asked them if in the next three months they would refrain from drinking, smoking, and drugs. Although this created some anxiety, they resolved to do it.
I asked them if in the next three months they would resolve to keep themselves morally clean and in harmony with the principles of virtue which the Savior taught. They said they would. And then I suggested they establish a schedule, on their own, during the next three months to read the Book of Mormon from cover to cover—a few pages each day, with a prayer at each reading that the Lord would bless them to know if the book is true and actually from him. They agreed.
Anticipating what might happen, I said, “Now, if you feel disposed to tell your friends about this, probably their first comment will be ‘Boy, has Brother Dunn snowed you.’ You may even feel that way a time or two during this experiment, but don’t let it keep you from doing what you have agreed to do. If you think that might be a problem, then keep it in the back of your mind, and go ahead and honestly experiment, and let this three-month experience speak for itself.” I added, “If things go properly, you’ll notice some by-products, such as a growing awareness and concern for your fellowman and greater appreciation and consideration for other people.” They accepted the challenge and left.
Of course, what was really hoped for was the experience that every member has a right to enjoy and everyone else has the right to receive, and that is the knowledge of a personal testimony. I think Brigham Young described it best when he said:
“There is no other experience known to mortal man that can be compared with the testimony or witness of the Holy Ghost. It is as powerful as a two-edged sword and burns in the breast of man like a consuming fire. It destroys fear and doubt, leaving in their stead absolute unqualified, and incontrovertible knowledge that a principle or thing is true. …
“This same testimony has sustained faithful saints to the present day and will be a lamp to their path forever. The effect of this testimony reaches above and beyond all physical or earthly things and makes relationship with God the Father a literal, pulsing fact. Every fiber of both body and spirit respond to the witness of that testimony and the soul knows and lives the truth.”
And so to those who have tasted the water at many wells only to find that the unquenching thirst of the soul drives them on in search of that which will bring peace and nourishment to the heart—to you, whoever you are, member or nonmember—will you come and drink from this well, and taste and experiment and see if you have not found the waters of life where you can drink to your soul and thirst no more but be full with the joy of the true knowledge of Jesus Christ and his teachings and the purpose of your own life?
And to this invitation I bear you my witness that I know God lives. I know he lives and that Jesus Christ is our Redeemer and his Son. Joseph Smith saw what he said he saw, and we have a prophet of God sitting with us, presiding today. I bear you that witness in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Time continued to go by, and we were extremely content with our lives. We had our two wonderful daughters, had great neighbors, a good job, and life seemed to be going well for us. We started to think that our family would be just the four of us. Afterall, most of our neighbors only had two kids. However, one day as Caryn was putting away the clothes Chrysanne had grown out of, she could not feel peace about giving the little clothes away. She was also about to turn 40, and knew that if we were going to have another child now was the time. Her patriarchal blessing promised that she would bring forth bodies (plural), and at this point we only had the one birth. We truly believed God would fulfill his promises. As Elder Angel Abrea stated, “The faithful Latter-day Saint waits patiently because, certainly, faith, ‘the assurance of things hoped for’, is exercised with the conviction that the promises will be fulfilled ‘in his own time, and in his own way, and according to his own will’” (1992).

We started once again going to see infertility specialists, and were told that the procedure that had the best chance for us in our condition was invitro fertilization. However, this was a very costly procedure, and one that had just a 25% chance of success at Caryn’s age. We moved forward with faith knowing of the Lord’s promise to Caryn, and that we could put our trust in Him. We traveled out of state to a respected clinic and worked with an outstanding physician in this invitro fertilization process. While we were gone, our Bishop felt impressed to look for Caryn in the congregation one Sunday. The Spirit told him, “Sister Houghton needs you to tell her something.” He did not know why, and did not even see my wife in order to follow through with the prompting. Later that week we came back to our home in Oklahoma extremely disheartened, since we just had been told by the fertility clinic that the procedure had not been successful. We had spent tens of thousands of dollars, given up time away from work, put our trust in medicine and the Lord, only to have it end in failure. We were sad and wondered what the Lord wanted us to do in our lives instead.

The following Sunday after sacrament meeting the Bishop asked to see us in his office. He said, “Brother & Sister Houghton, the Lord has strongly prompted me two Sundays in a row to tell you that you will have a son.” We were dumbstruck. We had not told him of our situation, but right then at the moment we knew the Lord understood our anguish and was ready to bless us in our desire. Then in the office the bishop and I laid our hands on my wife’s head and he blessed her with comfort, and promised her that the Lord knew of her desires, and that He would fulfill His promises to her. Two months later we returned to the clinic, buoyed up with the faith we had in the Lord, knowing that he would fulfill His promise to us. Nine months later our little boy, Isaac, was born. Two months after that he accompanied us to Laie when I interviewed for a job here at BYU–Hawaii, and now has grown up as a barefoot local boy.

When I was in junior high school, I would get out of bed on cold winter mornings and head for the heat vent to get warm. The family cat would always beat me there, so I would gently shoo her away and sit down. Soon my mother would tell me it was time to leave for school. I would look out at the icicles on the house and dread going out into the cold, let alone beginning another day of school.

As I kissed my mother good-bye and went out the door, I would look at my comfortable spot in front of the heat vent and find that the cat had repossessed it. How I envied that cat! If that weren’t enough, she would look up at me with heavy eyelids and an expression as if to laugh at me and say, “Have fun in school, Glenn. I’m sure glad I’m not a human!” I hated it when she did that!

However, an interesting thing would happen as the day went on. I would come home after experiencing the joys and sorrows of the school day and see that lazy cat still curled up in front of the vent, and I would smile and say to her, “I’m sure glad I’m not a cat.”

Truman was among the first group of Saints to enter the Salt Lake Valley in 1847. Two years earlier he had been told in a patriarchal blessing that “thy calling is more particularly to labor in assisting the Saints to build cities and temples than traveling abroad to preach the gospel.” His abilities as an architect were recognized by President Brigham Young, and soon Truman was busy designing homes, schools, churches, a sugar factory, forts, stores, a penitentiary, a theater, a governor’s mansion, and most importantly, temples.

Many beautiful buildings still stand today as proof of Truman Angell’s architectural talent. The Salt Lake and St. George temples, Brigham Young’s Beehive House, the Lion House, and the Eagle Gate are just a few examples of his work.

Truman considered his work a calling rather than a job. Most workers donated a tenth of their time to Church projects, but full-time workers like Truman were paid in tithing scrip, which could be exchanged for groceries, clothing, and other necessities.

Truman studied architectural design and innovations in building. The constant pressure of being the Church’s architect was strain on his health, so Brigham Young called him to serve a mission in Europe. There he was not only to preach to the people, but also to visit the great buildings and study the architectural styles. He had been on his mission for thirteen months when he was called to return to help with the Salt Lake Temple.

Work on the temple did not progress very rapidly at first. There were several delays, such as the time United States President James Buchanan sent federal troops to Utah with a new governor to replace Brigham Young. The Saints, remembering the mob violence of the East, were not going to allow their new homes and lands to be plundered again. They stripped their homes of valuables and filled them with straw to be set afire if and when hostile troops came. Even the foundation of the temple was covered with dirt, making it appear to be only a plowed field. Fortunately, a peaceful settlement was reached before the troops arrived in Salt Lake.

As the building of the temple progressed, Truman sought the advice and counsel of President Young almost every step of the way. There were many details that had to be taken care of, and the work required Truman’s constant supervision. All his efforts were devoted to serving the Lord, despite constant poor health and personal heartaches.

Truman Angell did not live to see the completion of the beautiful Salt Lake Temple. It was dedicated in April 1893, and this year marks the 100th anniversary of that great event. This majestic structure stands as a monument to Brother Angell’s and other Saints’ dedication in building the Lord’s kingdom here on earth.

On the day of her husband’s second departure to England, Vilate Kimball was so weak, trembling so severely with ague, that she could do nothing more than weakly shake hands with her husband when he came in tears to say good-bye. Their little David was less than four weeks old then, and only one child, four-year-old Heber Parley, was well enough to carry water for the ailing family. In the hours after her husband’s leaving, Vilate lost all strength and had to be assisted back to the confinement of her bed.

Mary Ann Young and her children were equally ill when Brigham left on the same mission, and their financial situation was equally precarious. One heartrending description describes her crossing the Mississippi River in the bitter of winter, thinly clad and shivering with cold, clutching her infant daughter as she went, going to the tithing office in Nauvoo to ask for a few potatoes. Then, still suffering with fever, she made her way with the baby back across the forbidding river, never to write a word to her husband about such difficulties.

Trevor sat down on the couch and put his chin in his hands. His brothers were playing with Grandpa. He wished he could have fun too, but he couldn’t stop worrying about his baptism.
Mom sat down next to him and ruffled his hair. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Don’t you want to play?”
Trevor shook his head, frowning.
Mom looked at him a moment, then put her arm around him. “Are you still afraid to go under the water?”
Trevor nodded.
The thought of being underwater always scared Trevor. When he was three, he had fallen into a swimming pool. He could never forget how scared he had felt as he sank deeper and deeper into the water until someone pulled him out. He had been nervous around water ever since.
“Why isn’t anything working?” Trevor asked. “We prayed, and we even visited the font. Nothing worked!” Springing up from the couch, Trevor ran into his room.
Slamming the bedroom door behind him, Trevor fell onto his bed. Soon he heard a soft knock on the door.
Trevor looked over as Dad sat down beside him. “Mom told me you’re still nervous about getting baptized,” Dad said.
Trevor nodded. “I keep praying, but the scared feeling won’t go away.”
Dad thought a minute. “Sometimes when we pray for something, it doesn’t happen right away. You might feel scared now, but maybe by tomorrow you’ll feel better.”
Trevor shook his head, but then he remembered when he was nervous about starting school last year. Dad had given him a blessing. Maybe a blessing could help him get baptized too. He looked up at Dad. “Do you think you and Grandpa can give me a blessing?”
Dad nodded. “I think that’s a great idea.”
A little while later, Trevor sat down in a chair in the family room. Dad and Grandpa placed their hands on his head. Dad blessed him, saying that if he had faith, Heavenly Father could help him to feel calm and peaceful.
The next day as he sat at his baptism in his white clothes, Trevor still felt nervous. He was glad he had received a blessing, but what if he stayed scared? How would he get baptized?
After hearing a talk about baptism, Dad leaned over. “It’s time to go to the font,” he said. Trevor nodded and followed Dad to the font. Dad went in first.
It was Trevor’s turn. He hesitated, but then he remembered his blessing. “Heavenly Father, please help me to have faith,” he prayed silently to himself.
Slowly, Trevor put one foot in the water. It was nice and warm. Trevor took another step.
With each step, he could feel his worry and fear melting away. Dad took him by the arm and smiled. “Ready?”
Trevor felt calm and peaceful. This was the feeling Heavenly Father had promised to give him. He nodded. “Ready.”
Dad raised his right arm and said the baptismal prayer. As Dad lowered him under the water, Trevor wasn’t afraid. All he could feel was that calm, peaceful feeling growing stronger.
Trevor came out of the water smiling. He knew that his faith had helped him overcome his fear so he could be baptized. He knew Heavenly Father would always help him when he was trying to choose the right.

Sister Cook is very gifted musically, having taught music and filling her home with music. In fact, Elder Cook first became acquainted with Mary at a seventh-grade talent assembly. He remembers, “This little towheaded girl gets up and sings ‘On the Sunny Side of the Street.’ Even in junior high school she had a remarkably mature, deep voice. I was absolutely amazed. And that song could have been the theme for the rest of her life. She has a wonderfully bright, sunny disposition.”
During their schooling, the two had numerous opportunities to work together. In junior high he was elected student-body president, and she was elected student-body vice president. They were in debate together. And as senior-class president in high school, he worked with her as a student-body officer.
“We were friends long before we were anything else,” Elder Cook recalls. “I admired her before I fell in love with her, and marrying her was the best decision I have ever made.”
Elder and Sister Cook were married in the Logan Utah Temple on November 30, 1962.

Time for scripture study requires a schedule that will be honored. Otherwise, blessings that matter most will be at the mercy of things that matter least. Time for family scripture study may be difficult to establish. Years ago when our children were at home, they attended different grades in several schools. Their daddy had to be at the hospital no later than 7:00 in the morning. In family council we determined that our best time for scripture study was 6:00 a.m. At that hour our little ones were very sleepy but supportive. Occasionally we had to awaken one when a turn came to read. I would be less than honest with you if I conveyed the impression that our family scripture time was a howling success. Occasionally it was more howling than successful. But we did not give up.
Now, a generation later, our children are all married with families of their own. Sister Nelson and I have watched them enjoy family scripture study in their own homes. Their efforts are much more successful than were ours. We shudder to think what might have happened if we had quit trying.

During my first year in professional baseball I was married in the temple, and that presents a little problem in dressing rooms with uncouth athletes. But I found that holding to righteousness and not parading it before men brought great love, respect, and honor. For the sake of the person involved, because he still lives, I will simply describe this first great catcher in my professional baseball career as an old pro from the Washington Senators and about as uncouth as they come. He was built like a small King Kong. When he would dress up and get behind that plate, he was something else; but his other activities included women, gambling, and pornographic material. And he thought that was being manly.

Two months after I joined the club we were on a road trip. It was two in the morning and I was asleep in my hotel room. A knock came at the door. I got up to answer it and there was this big old burly catcher standing there in his pajamas.

“Can I come in?”

“Come on in.” I closed the door.

“Don’t tell anybody I’m here.”

“I’m not going to tell anybody. What can I do for you?”

“Paul,” he said, “I’ve watched you for two months and I kind of like what I see. I would like to learn how to be more like that. Would you help me? I’d like to learn to find God. Can you help?”

“Sure.”

So I got this big old filthy catcher on his knees and we prayed together. And he got up doing this [wipes eyes on sleeve]. “Thank you. Don’t tell the others.”

In the next two months, six other players came in to talk. They did not particularly want to parade it, but they did honor it.

When Heather decided she wanted to go out for baseball, she didn’t think twice about the fact that there are no girls’ teams in her area. Today the petite 15-year-old with long dark hair and bangs is the only girl playing on boys’ teams in her league, and she’s doing pretty well.
The Drummonds are not the most outspoken kids in the world. They’re doers rather than talkers. But they will open up if you ask. Heather, for example, will tell you that she doesn’t feel short-changed by not growing up with a mother. “I’ve lived with guys all my life, so I do the things they do,” she says. “But I also do girl things. My best friends are girls. I don’t think growing up only with guys has hurt me.” Heather has her own ways of asserting her femininity. In the dugout, for example, even though she tucks her long brown hair up under her cap and wears a bulky uniform like the rest of the players, you can’t miss her because she’s the one wearing pink lipstick. And sometimes, when the other players lose their tempers and start swearing, they’re quickly reminded that a girl is present when Heather tells them, “Hey—watch your language!” And, she says, “They usually apologize.”
“Some of the guys I play with are kind of mean,” says Heather. “They say the only reason I’m on the team is because the coach doesn’t know how to cut a girl. I have to play extra hard to overcome that. I’ve been tempted to quit, but when I am, I just tell myself I have to stick in there, because everyone would think I can’t handle it. I can handle it,” she says with conviction, and you don’t doubt her.

I’m not even a Mormon, and yet I look forward to and enjoy my monthly edition of the New Era. Your magazine helps me to see and reinforce values, standards, and morals that I never learned in my years of growing up as an orphan. My good friends the Wilsons, who live on a beautiful little ranch in John Day, Oregon, were kind enough to give me a subscription to the New Era and also show me the wealth of a strong family unit in a society where everyone is struggling for an identity. Before I met the Wilsons, I had a very stereotyped misconception of Mormon people. But the Wilsons showed me with their generosity, care, and sincerity what wonderful people Mormons are, and my monthly edition of the New Era only helps to enhance these impressions.
Yvonne Mary PepinJohn Day, Oregon

Several years ago, a young girl living in Vanuatu named Marsela Tokalolo, took her father’s counsel to heart: “Stay close to the gospel of Jesus Christ and value education.”
Education was so important to her father that he sent her, at age 12 ,to school in Fiji, sacrificing money and being away from his daughter. After graduating from high school and then completing grade 13 in Fiji, Marsela returned home to Vanuatu.
In Fiji, Marsela had seen a spiritual light in her teachers, many of whom had graduated from Brigham Young University–Hawaii.
After she served as a missionary for the Church in the Philippines, her desire to attend BYU–Hawaii motivated her to work and sacrifice for her own education as her father had counseled her.
Mariella Kaun, a fellow member of the Church in Vanuatu, mentored Marsela as she raised funds for her education. Marsela baked and sold banana pies, custard pies and laplap, the national dish of Vanuatu.
Marsela said, “Members and friends were willing to support me knowing that it would help me go to school.”
Marsela was achieving her goals. She graduated from BYU–Hawaii, met her husband, and was married in the Laie Hawaii Temple.
“The House of the Lord is [a] holy house,” she said. “God walks with us in our life journey.”
A temple is being constructed in Port Vila, Vanuatu.
Regarding the new temple, Marsela said, “It is an answered prayer for me. This is a witness that God is indeed mindful of His children. The temple will definitely be a light in our nation.”

MonicaOne of Christ’s most profound teachings is that we should “love one another, as I have loved you”. [2] But how can we truly love one another if we don’t understand each other? Whether you’re just starting to date, or you’ve been married for years, the ability to talk openly, listen carefully, and understand each other’s needs is essential.

Keoni and I first met in November of 2001. I had gone to school with his cousin Amy, and we were part of the same friend group. Keoni had spent time with Amy and our mutual friends before leaving on his mission, but somehow, we never met during that time.

One afternoon, I was sitting with Amy and several of our friends. During the conversation, Amy casually mentioned that her cousin Keoni had returned from his mission. She then suggested that I should go out with him. I was surprised—because I had no idea who Keoni was! Amy and the others were shocked that I didn’t know him, but they quickly filled me in. From what they said, he sounded like someone I’d want to meet.

Amy suggested we meet up, so we went to a devotional together, and after that, we hung out in groups two more times. I clearly remember one night, after he dropped me off at home, being really struck by the way he spoke about his mission. It wasn’t just a recounting of experiences—he spoke with real love and longing, which left a lasting impression on me.

So, although Keoni had my phone number, things just kind of fizzled out. Looking back, I’m not sure what happened exactly, but we were both busy, and maybe the timing wasn’t right for anything to develop.

Or maybe Keoni has a better explanation?

KeoniUmmm…yeah…I'm just going to go with timing…I'm going to go with timing.

MonicaSeveral months later, I had gotten back into distance running and was preparing for the Top of Utah Marathon. My friend Tiffany and I had decided to run a 10K race in Provo as part of our training. However, Tiffany had gotten engaged and decided not to continue training for the full marathon, so I was left without a training partner.

KeoniSo, for reasons I can only ascribe to divine intervention, I woke up very early on the fourth of July of 2002. I immediately had a strong prompting that I should run the 10K race in Provo that morning, even though I hadn’t registered for it. So I walked, I went over to the race, I showed up early, I registered at the race, and I walked to the starting line. Almost immediately, as I approached the starting line, I saw Monica and her friend Tiffany. I walked up behind and said, “Monica and Tiffany!” We chatted briefly about running, and I found out that Monica had signed up for the same Top of Utah Marathon that I had signed up for and that she was training, just like me, and that just like me, her training partner had bailed out on her.

So, after the race, I saw some of Monica’s other friends waiting for her to finish and made sure I had the right phone number for her. I was excited that we had reconnected and was looking forward to seeing her again. The next day, I called Monica and asked her out on a date.

MonicaAnd…I told him no.

I didn’t want to say no. In fact, right after I told him, I talked to my mom about how difficult it was to turn him down. The truth was, I had been dating someone else, and while that relationship was clearly coming to an end, it hadn’t officially ended yet. It wouldn’t have been appropriate for me to go on a date with Keoni until I had fully resolved things with the other guy. So, I ended things and, soon after, decided to call Keoni and ask if he wanted to go running with me.

I figured that by suggesting we run together, Keoni would get the hint that I was no longer seeing anyone and that I was interested in him.

KeoniAnd, she couldn’t have been more wrong. I was still a bit embarrassed that she had told me "no". I thought she was interested! And I wasn’t about to risk looking or feeling stupid again.

MonicaHe didn’t pick up on any clues or signals that I was now available and interested. Running together, in his mind, was just running. He kept our time together focused only on that.

We hadn’t even been on a date yet, and we were already facing challenges with communication!

It took a few weeks for me to finally work into the conversation that I no longer had a boyfriend, hoping that he would understand that he could now ask me out.

Shortly after that conversation, I went on a family vacation. Upon returning, I was excited to call Keoni to see if he wanted to go running the next day. He said yes, and in that same phone call, he asked me out on a date for that weekend!

Looking back, it’s clear that we both had some miscommunication. I thought I was dropping hints, but Keoni wasn’t picking up on them. This experience taught us a valuable lesson.

Say what you mean; don’t assume the other person is filling in the gaps with correct information. They are filling in the gaps, but most likely with the wrong information.