Gospel Story Finder

Rebecca liked having family activity night on top of the cinder knoll, but getting there was scary. When Daddy drove the jeep up the steep hillside, the tires dug deeply into the cinders. Yet even so, Rebecca had the feeling they were going to tip over backward. When the family reached the top of the knoll, the smoke and flames shooting up from the campfire near the volcano’s crater seemed to make it come alive.
It’s so pretty up here, Rebecca thought, as she looked out over the countryside. She could see La Verkin and Hurricane snuggled against the hill to the east, their windows reflecting shafts of sunset gold. In the sky, gold-edged clouds turned redder and redder before the sun disappeared.
Eating dutch-oven spuds and burgers on top of a cinder cone was fun, but Rebecca was impatient for the lesson to begin. As she sat with the others, watching the campfire burn low, she asked, “Daddy, when are we going to have our lesson?”
“Tonight is activity night, and I haven’t prepared a lesson,” he replied. “But we can surely have one. What do you think a good subject would be?” he asked Grandma.
“We could talk about repentance,” she suggested.
“What’s repentance?” asked Rebecca.
“It’s when you’ve done something wrong that you’re sorry for,” Leon answered.
Later during the discussion, Rebecca cuddled against Mama, thoughtfully silent. Finally, she sighed and whispered, “Once I did something I’m sorry for. I took some bubble gum that I didn’t pay for.”
“When did you do that?” Mama asked quietly.
“Last winter when I was with you in Graff’s store,” she replied.
“Then you need to do something about it, don’t you?” Mama suggested. Rebecca nodded.
The next day Mama wasn’t feeling well so she let Rebecca do the dishes to earn a little money. Then Rebecca put on her prettiest dress and brushed her hair and ran to Grandma’s house. Slipping inside the kitchen door, she said, “Grandma, will you take me to Hurricane so I can pay for some gum I took?”
“Of course,” Grandma replied. “I’ll be ready in just a minute.”
As they rode to Hurricane, Rebecca said, “When I get to the store can I just run in and put my money on the counter and then come out?”
“No. That wouldn’t be right,” Grandma answered. “No one would know what the money was for”
“That’s what Mama said,” Rebecca told her. Then she added, “She said to tell Sister Graff about it, but I don’t want to. I’m afraid.”
They found the storekeeper in the back of the store when they arrived, going over her books. Grandma spoke first. “Rebecca would like to talk to you.”
“I’m happy to see both of you,” Sister Graff said. “Won’t you sit down?”
Rebecca sat on a chair next to Grandma. In her hand she had been clutching a nickel, but now she nervously turned it over and over in her fingers without speaking. Finally, Grandma said, “Rebecca, tell Sister Graff why we’re here.”
Rebecca’s eyes moistened. “I can’t remember just what I wanted to say,” she hedged.
“What is the nickel for?” Grandma prompted.
Rebecca quickly thrust the nickel into Sister Graff’s hand. “Here,” she said. “I took some bubble gum without paying for it.”
“You did right to come tell me about it,” Sister Graff said kindly.
“I was just this old when I did it,” Rebecca continued, holding up four fingers. “I wouldn’t do it now because I’m five.” Then impulsively she added, “I only took a penny’s worth, but I want you to have the whole nickel.”
“I can only take a penny for a penny’s worth of gum,” Sister Graff replied. “I will give you your change.” Taking one of Rebecca’s hands in hers, she patted it tenderly. “Remembering this day will help you always to do right. Thank you for coming.”
Rebecca breathed a sigh of relief. The telling was over and the gum paid for. She didn’t want to ever feel that bad again. Lighthearted, she skipped as she followed Sister Graff to the checkout counter. Sister Graff rang up a one-cent sale on the cash register and placed four pennies in Rebecca’s hand. “Thank you,” she said, and smiled.
Looking at Grandma, Rebecca declared, “I want to spend two of my pennies.” She picked out two pieces of bubble gum and paid for them. She gave one to Grandma and popped the other into her own mouth. As they drove home, she chattered between chewing and blowing little bubbles that plopped and popped.
“I like the paid-for gum the best, Grandma,” she said happily.

After earning his law degree, he applied for a job at a law firm and was invited to lunch by some of the partners at the firm. The senior partner asked him if he would like an alcoholic drink before lunch and later asked him if he would like wine. Elder Cook declined both times, telling him the second time that he was a Latter-day Saint. This incident was more important than Elder Cook thought at the time. He has said:
“I received an offer of employment from the firm. A few months later, the senior partner told me the offer of the alcoholic beverages was a test. He noted that my résumé made it clear that I had served an LDS mission. He had determined that he would hire me only if I was true to the teachings of my own church. He considered it a significant matter of character and integrity.”3

In 2017, a 16-year-old woman who was nearly finished with her final year at Church College in Pesega, wanted to become an accountant. She did fine throughout the year but was badly affected by her failure to pass maths. Despite her parents’ seeking help for her from her maths teacher and the principal, she simply could not improve and failed miserably. She saw herself as a failure and did not want to continue with school anymore, even before her final internal and external exams. Her parents struggled to help motivate her or lift her spirits so she could complete the year and to pursue her goals with higher education. Through diligent prayer, her parents sought heaven’s help for their daughter, and, in the end, the father was inspired to minister to her with loving and reassuring questions:
“Do you know that you have a Father in Heaven and that He loves you and wants you to be successful? Most importantly, do you know you are His spirit daughter, and He answers prayers?” She answered affirmatively.
Her father continued, “Where did you learn about these truths?”
She answered, “In the home, at Primary, in the Young Woman’s programme, at Sunday School, in seminary classes at school, at Sunday Church meetings.”
When pressed further by her father, she added, “Reading and pondering scriptures.”
These parents earnestly prayed that she would know those truths for herself, and that this knowledge comes from having faith and a sincere effort on her part to learn, and that the Lord keeps His promises.
The young woman returned to complete her exams at college, and she qualified for entry into the National University of Samoa. Although she was unable to pursue her original goal because her maths mark wasn’t high enough, she was, however, able to pick up an alternative course of study close to what she had initially wanted.
In the end, she graduated from seminary in 2018. She qualified for a government scholarship to study at the University of the South Pacific in Fiji from 2019 to 2021 and graduated in 2022 with a bachelor of commerce degree double majoring in economics and international marketing. When asked what she has learned from such an experience, she responded:
“I am reminded of the Primary song: ‘A Child’s Prayer’”:
Heavenly Father, are you really there?
And do you hear and answer ev’ry child’s prayer?
Some say that heaven is far away,
But I feel it close around me as I pray.
Heavenly Father, I remember now
Something that Jesus told disciples long ago:
“Suffer the children to come to me.”
Father, in prayer I’m coming now to thee.
Pray, he is there;
Speak, he is list’ning.
You are his child;
His love now surrounds you.
He hears your prayer;
He loves the children.
Of such is the kingdom, the kingdom of heav’n.1
She has a testimony of truths she came to know for herself. Though she is not an accountant, as she had hoped to be, the Lord responded to her prayers for guidance according to His will. He provided another way that she could move forward. She learnt to trust in the Lord, that He would reveal His hand in all matters. Further, she shared a few scriptures that readily come to her mind with the constant support of the Holy Ghost:
From the Book of Mormon, 2 Nephi 25:26, where parents help teach their children:
”And we talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ, we preach of Christ, we prophecy of Christ, and we write according to our prophecies, that our children may know to what source they may look for a remission of their sins.”
Lastly, she referred to the importance of treasuring up in your minds continually the words of life, Doctrine and Covenants 88:118:
“And as all have not faith, seek ye diligently and teach one another words of wisdom; yea, seek ye out of the best books words of wisdom; seek learning, even by study and also by faith.”
She has increased her faith in the Lord by not giving up, and through the power of prayer and her continued efforts to study the scriptures, she learns the Lord’s will for her, and she desires to serve her Father in Heaven in whatever that He would have her do.

In fact, many LDS youth here look at music as a worthwhile way to employ their time. For example, Sara Williams, 16, her brother, Tyler, 18, and Rebecca Howell, 15, all members of the Byrd Springs Ward, are among 10 Latter-day Saints in the award-winning Virgil I. Grissom High School marching band.
“Through band, you learn to appreciate all kinds of music,” Sara says. “But band teaches you a lot of other things, too.”
“It teaches teamwork, especially marching band, because you can’t march a solo,” she says. “You gain good friends in the band, because you work so hard together.”
And yet, in some ways, Sara is familiar with the all-alone routine. It’s an experience born of standing up for her standards.
“Someone would say, ‘We want to watch this movie.’ And I’d say, ‘What’s it rated?’ At first they’d say, ‘Oh, come on.’ But now they know I will not watch an R-rated movie. And they know I don’t come out on Sundays and go places with them, because it’s the Sabbath. They respect me a lot for what I believe.”
And the respect is mutual. “The kids in the band all have pretty good standards, to where you’re not the only one who is saying, ‘No, I will not drink or smoke,’ or ‘No, I will not have sex before marriage.’ Like it says in For the Strength of Youth, they’re a good influence, so I enjoy hanging out with them.”

I share some feelings from a man who had been sealed in the temple but lost his family because of pornography and an online relationship with a woman. In sorrow he writes: “I did not heed the words given to me in my patriarchal blessing, which stated that Satan would have no power in my life except that which I would give him. I gave him plenty, and slowly and surely he took it and used that power to destroy my life with my wife and my children. I loved them with all my heart and still do and always will, but that love was not enough to defeat the power I willingly gave Satan in my life to destroy it. The Church’s teachings provided [us] a way to return as a family sealed for time and all eternity to our Heavenly Father, would I have but listened and heeded them, but in the end I did not.”

What a tragedy.

Twenty-four out of twenty-five! They had tied! In a five-shot free throw playoff, Ray Swanson, a deacon from the 18th Ward, Pocatello Idaho West Stake, edged out his Indiana opponent to be declared the national winner in the 12–13 year-old division of the Elks Hoop Shoot contest. (He received a 2 1/2-foot-high trophy for his efforts and was greeted at the airport by schoolmates, city officials, and a pep band when he returned home.) To become eligible for the basketball free throw competition held in Kansas City, Missouri, Ray also won local, district, state, and Northwest Region titles. Since he began competing four years ago, he has won every local and district title in his age group and three state titles also. Ray is the teachers quorum secretary in his ward.

An instance when Japanese leaders appreciated the Church’s timely assistance was when local priesthood leaders identified an overwhelmed refugee shelter set up at a school in an isolated area. Together with the public affairs council and the local Church welfare manager, the priesthood leaders arranged for food and other relief supplies to be delivered to the shelter, which was housing approximately 270 displaced tsunami victims.
Although those at the shelter were initially surprised to receive assistance from a Christian church, the second time Mormon Helping Hands volunteers came, wearing their yellow vests, one child yelled, “Here they come! I wonder what they brought this time!”
After receiving the donations, the shelter coordinator told Elder and Sister Grames, “Your church brought us the first meat and fresh vegetables we had after the earthquake.”
“It felt good,” says Sister Grames, “to really be a helping hand not only to the shelter but also to the priesthood leaders who were trying so hard to reach those in need.”
Elder Niiyama explains another positive result of the council’s efforts: “We found that sharing information about the Church’s relief work with members as well as outside opinion leaders was very vital to our public affairs objectives. I feel people outside of the Church now have a better image of the Church and members are more confident in the strength of the Church in Japan.”

I was going to Arkansas to do one particular story. Period. But the flight schedules left me just enough time to do an additional story. So I asked Monty, my local contact, if he had any suggestions.
“Well,” he said thoughtfully, “since you asked—how about Rochelle Abram up in Bentonville?”
I had never worked with Monty before. Did he really know what kind of story I was looking for? I wasn’t completely sure myself.
What I didn’t want was to put some super-gifted super-achiever on a pedestal and make everybody else feel inadequate. Maybe I was just looking for an ordinary kid who has some qualities worth writing about.
I grabbed pencil and paper. “So tell me about Rochelle, Monty.”
He began, and mentally I responded to each point. “… multi-talented …” (The Church has lots of multi-talented kids.) “… state championships in gymnastics …” (We’ve done gymnast stories.) “… has done very well scholastically …” (That’s better, but—) “… a fine influence among the youth here …” (Okay. Now I’m listening.)
On the map, the road between Ft. Smith, Arkansas, and Bentonville looks fairly straight. In reality, it has more twists and turns than a soap opera plot, more bad grades than my fifth-grade report card. But since it winds among beautiful green hills, past some delightful little towns and villages, you don’t mind too much.
With Monty as guide, we found the Abram home, nestled among tall trees on Trail’s End Road, the driveway full of cars. This was Rochelle’s graduation night. Family and friends had started to gather, and it promised to be a little hectic.
Jerry Abram, Rochelle’s dad, greeted us warmly, pulled us into the house with a car salesman’s handshake, and introduced me to some of the family as we moved through the living room. A young woman approached from a hallway and he announced, “This is Rochelle.”
I doubted that boys had to be bribed to take her to the prom. Light blue-green eyes, warm smile and perfect white teeth, reddish-blond hair framing an oval face and fair complexion—Jed, my photographer, was going to have an easy time of it. But my anxiety about trying to do a story on a too-perfect girl had increased.
We discussed a few details, like what she would wear for the photographer and how much time we had before she had to go to commencement exercises. Then we went out onto the deck at the back of the house and sat down at a wrought iron table. It was after 5:00 P.M., and the tall trees that surround the house cast lacy shadows over us. I turned on my tape recorder, and we began to talk while Jed circled about, taking picture after picture.
It was time for Rochelle to go into the house and finish getting ready for her graduation. I looked down at my tape recorder and notebook and thought about the story contained on tape, on paper, and in my memory. Monty was right. She is worth writing about. Hooray for anybody who has gifts, develops them as well as possible, and is modest about them. Three cheers for those who accomplish things for the sheer joy of doing.
But far more importantly, I decided Rochelle was worth writing about because she excels in some ways that everyone can excel in: commitment to Jesus Christ and his gospel, putting aside our own fears and tragedies and reaching out to others. Even a Rochelle Abram sometimes worries about acceptance. It’s a natural fear most of us have. But instead of holding back, afraid to stand out, she goes ahead and does when “it’s there to be done.”
Next time Monty recommends a story, I’m ready to listen.

The night after Uncle Ben came to visit Grandpa, we saw the campfire. It was just a pinpoint of light up on the shadowy hills across Grandpa’s little valley.
“It must be some sheepherder’s camp,” Grandpa said. “I can’t think of why anybody else would have a campfire so high up, can you, Ben?”
Uncle Ben was a bit slow to answer. “Well, now, in the old days—”
In the darkness, I heard Grandpa chuckle. “In the old days you’d say that it was rustlers. Nowadays, a body would expect it to be poachers, right? Well, I think that it’s a sheep camp.”
My brother, Lucas, spoke up. “Can we go see the camp? We’ve never seen a sheep camp, have we, Jerry?”
The thought of what might be up there made me hesitate. I wasn’t a bit anxious to find out whose campfire it was. But Grandpa cleared his throat and spoke up before I could say so. “Well, now, a couple of bright city lads like you might be able to find the sheep camp, come daylight. Don’t you think so, Ben?”
“If it is a sheep camp,” Uncle Ben replied.
“It’s certain that they’d hear the herder’s dog barking before they reached the camp,” Grandpa went on, “and maybe a tinkling sheep bell.”
“It could be a long hike,” Uncle Ben said.
“What’s wrong with the boys riding Old Salt?” Grandpa suggested. “They’ve been trotting that old horse around every day and seem to ride him well enough. They can’t get lost. Old Salt can find his way home from anyplace.”
I couldn’t believe how everything was being decided for Lucas and me. It was true that we’d been learning to ride during our summer vacation at Grandpa’s ranch. But we’d never ridden through trees that could brush us off or to any place where there might be danger.
It was the thought of danger that made me upset—upset at Grandpa for not asking how I felt about going and miffed at Lucas for bringing it up.
At bedtime I really lit into Lucas.
“Maybe I don’t want to go,” I told him.
“Why did you have to bring it up, anyway?”
He just shrugged his shoulders, as he always did, and said, “I just felt prompted to ask.”
Ever since our Primary lessons on promptings and whisperings of the Spirit, Lucas had used that same excuse for a lot of things that he did. But I didn’t buy it. Why should he be prompted any more than me? I wondered. I turned my back on him and jerked the quilt up over me. I knew that I’d have to go because Grandpa wouldn’t let Lucas go by himself, but it was against my liking.
The next morning when we mounted up and started out, I had to tell myself that Lucas probably needed to cling to the saddle horn more than I did and that I knew enough to keep my feet out of Old Salt’s flanks better than he did. But I didn’t think that my legs would get so tired holding them away from Old Salt’s sides. Charley-horse cramps behind my shins started right away, and they got worse the farther up the hill we rode. Finally I couldn’t stand it any longer. “Stop and let me off!” I wailed.
Lucas tried to maneuver the horse up to a big rock, but I couldn’t wait. I slid off over Old Salt’s rump. My legs were so wobbly that I crawled to the shade of a cedar tree, sat down, and rubbed them. Then I stretched out, closed my eyes, and didn’t care if I ever got up again.
Lucas slid off the horse, and after a while he said, “Shouldn’t we be hearing the herder’s dog?”
Suddenly I could almost feel the silence. I didn’t even hear Old Salt stomping to discourage the flies. I scrambled up.
“Where’s the horse?” I yelped. “Lucas, where’s Old Salt?”
Lucas started running and looking among the thick cedars.
“Didn’t you tie the reins to a tree or something?” I hollered at him. “Didn’t you even drop the reins over his head?”
Lucas came back looking pale. He hadn’t.
I groaned. That old horse was probably halfway home by now. I started downhill.
“I think that we should go on up a way,” Lucas said, hesitating.
I was still burning at his carelessness. “Well, I’m not going to!” I yelled.
Lucas chewed at his lip a moment, then shrugged and started on up the hill. I watched him wind his way through the cedar trees without looking back.
“There might be rustlers up there!” I hollered after him. “Or poachers!” Soon Lucas was out of sight. And soon the little rocks that his climbing dislodged stopped rolling. I began to feel a long way from Grandpa’s ranch.
From high up the hill, there was a cry. My scalp tingled. Is Lucas in danger? I wondered. I sure don’t want anything to happen to him. He’s my best friend.
I took out after Lucas, climbing as fast as I could. My throat and lungs began to hurt. I stumbled, and my legs felt weak. I prayed silently.
There was no breath left in me when I broke out of the cedars into a small clearing and heard Lucas say, “Lady, what are you doing here?”
To my surprise, a woman was sitting on a sleeping bag beside the cold ashes of a campfire. Her open backpack and a hiking shoe were on the ground next to her. And one leg of her jeans was torn open to the knee. I felt a little sick when I noticed her leg. It was swollen and as big around as the trunk of a small cedar tree.
“I think it’s broken,” she was telling Lucas. “I’ve been praying that someone would come to help me.”
“We saw your campfire,” Lucas explained, “and we thought that it was a sheepherder’s fire.”
“How glad I am that you decided to take a hike today,” she said, wincing a little.
“Oh, we rode,” I told her. “But our horse got loose down below.”
I didn’t lay any blame to Lucas about the horse. I even told the lady that maybe it had been a good thing. When Old Salt got back to the ranch, Grandpa and Uncle Ben would surely come looking for us. And when they did, we would somehow get her safely down the hill.
She gave me a little smile. “I’m sorry that there’s no sheep camp.”
I saw Lucas shrug. Suddenly I began to wonder if Lucas really had been prompted. Maybe this was the way everything was supposed to work out. I felt a strange warmth inside as I hung my arm over Lucas’s shoulder, and I liked the feeling.

“Will the ice be solid enough today, Grandma?” asked Mary Running Deer. She pressed her face against the cold window pane in their little home on the reservation. The Dakota prairie was awash with snow as far as she could see.

Grandma’s answer was a surprise. “Let’s get bundled up, for it’s cold out on the pond!” she declared with a twinkle in her dark eyes.

“You really mean it, Grandma!” exclaimed Mary.

“Oh, I can hardly wait!” chimed in Mary’s sister, Nancy.

Grandma touched the tip of her nose and smiled. “It felt cold enough last night to frostbite my nose. I’m sure the pond is frozen solid enough for me to teach you girls our old Indian game.”

The proper name for Grandma’s old Indian game is Nit an tai sin um. But the girls usually just called it “Grandma’s old Indian game.”

Mary and Nancy scurried to find their winter coats. Grandma wrapped herself in an Indian blanket coat and slipped into a pair of sturdy buckskin leggings.

Suddenly there was a loud thumping underneath the wooden table in the corner.

Mary laughed. “Old Buck doesn’t want to be left out of the fun,” she said.

The big yellow dog slowly pulled himself up from his resting-place. He laid his graying muzzle on Mary’s knee as she sat down to put on her boots.

Grandma’s weathered face crinkled into a grin. “When will that dog realize he’s getting too old for these excursions?” she asked, shaking her head and then pushing her gray hair into place. “In dog years, Buck is even older than I am,” Grandma added.

Hearing his name, Buck wandered over and shoved his nose into Grandma’s hand. She patted the dog affectionately and spoke directly to him. “I’ll have to admit you are an amazing dog, Buck. What would I ever have done without you, especially with me trying to be both a mother and a father to Mary and Nancy!”

Mary spoke up. “I’ll never forget the time I fell into the pond when I was just a little girl, and Buck pulled me to safety while I held on to his tail.”

“And not only that,” reminded Grandma, “Buck pulled you all the way home on my travois. He was so careful to choose the best route because he knew you were hurt.”

Nancy opened the door with a mittened hand, and Buck was the first one out into the cold, clear air. Nancy smiled. “Buck knows where we’re going. He never lets Mary very far out of his sight, especially when we’re going near the pond.”

Mary grabbed a shovel from the side of the house, and everyone began trudging across the brilliant white snow.

Buck struggled along behind in their footsteps, but he just wasn’t up to bounding and playing in the snow as he had done in past winters.

Grandma explained how to play the old Indian game as they went along. “See all the sticks and small stones in this bag,” Grandma said, pulling open an old deerskin bag. “My grandmother and her grandmother before her used to play this same game on the ice when they were young girls.” She paused. “I’ve heard some people say that Nit an tai sin um is a little like a sport called bowling. But I’m sure bowling doesn’t compare to this game.”

Mary and Nancy couldn’t help smiling at each other. Grandma always preferred the old Indian ways.

When they reached the pond, the two girls shoveled the snow off a large space on the ice. And Grandma shook the contents of the little bag onto its smooth surface.

After handing several small stones to each of the girls, Grandma began her instructions: “Now you must sit about ten feet apart to play this game—”

Suddenly, everyone heard a sharp cracking sound from the other end of the pond, followed by the sounds of splintering ice and splashing. A shrill, terrified yelp echoed across the pond.

“Oh, no!” gasped Grandma. “Buck has probably broken through the thin ice where the little creek runs into the pond.”

“Grandma! We must save him!” cried Mary, dashing across the snowy pond.

“Stay close to the bank!” Grandma called hoarsely.

They could hear Buck thrashing desperately to keep from going under the ice. Mary, Nancy, and Grandma half stumbled, half ran along the snowy bank. Buck’s shrill yips were a plea for help. Then abruptly the yelping stopped. Mary and Nancy looked at each other in panic. Has Buck gone under? they wondered.

The girls’ footsteps became frenzied. Then they spotted Buck lying very still on the snowy bank. Somehow, the valiant animal had managed to pull himself from the icy water.

“Oh, Grandma!” choked Nancy, tears running down her cheeks. “Will he die?”

“Not if we can quickly get him back to the warm house,” panted Grandmother, gasping for breath. “But how will we ever carry him? He’s so heavy.”

“Grandma!” burst out Mary hopefully. “The travois! We can pull Buck back to the house on your travois.”

Mary and Nancy sped back to the house, and hauled to the pond the travois poles, blankets, and Grandma’s huge buffalo hide that had been in the family longer than any of them could remember.

The two girls wrapped the suffering dog in the blankets and comforted him with soft words.

Grandmother tied the hide to the two poles and made the travois sturdy. “I’m glad my grandmother saw fit to teach me some of the old Indian ways,” she observed.

This time when Nancy and Mary smiled at each other, they were in complete agreement with Grandma.

Gently they eased Buck onto the travois. The exhausted dog looked up at his rescuers with soft, mournful eyes. Straining to lift his head, he weakly licked Mary’s hand.

A lump caught in Mary’s throat. “He’s trying to tell us thanks.” She paused. “Maybe by pulling him back on the travois, I can partly repay Buck for the time he helped to save my life when I fell into the pond.”

Mary positioned herself between the travois poles and pulled carefully. She wanted to give Buck as safe and comfortable a journey as her faithful friend had given her on this same travois many years before.

Three stakes in New Zealand—the Harbour, Manurewa, and Manukau—joined together for a youth conference involving 175 youth.
The group, bound for Motutapu, meaning sacred island, departed in the Blue Boats from Princes Wharf. Casting off in early evening and facing overcast weather, they had a calm trip until they reached the island. Rain began to drizzle, and they trekked from the landing to camp between the sloping hills. Spirits were boosted as young enthusiasts who had attended camp the year before kept pace and sang songs as the group trudged on.
Reaching camp triumphant though footsore and drenched, the group was assigned accommodations in barracks that were once used as a military base.
The next days were spent enjoying the beauty of the setting and learning to sail or paddle the dinghy, Windsurfer, and canoes. Snorkeling in the bay and absailing (rappeling) down a cliff under the careful supervision of a trained instructor challenged individuals to face some of their fears.
The greatest physical challenge was the confidence course, with movable logs, rope bridges, and gigantic swings. The cheering on by friends and the chance to pitch in and help one another gave the young people the confidence to complete the course and go around again for another try.
Gospel workshops, dorm family home evenings including testimony meeting, and a sing-along added to the spiritual aspect of the conference.
On the last evening of the conference, a special “Aloha Night” was held. Each stake prepared a floor show for the evening featuring dances and songs from the cultures throughout the Pacific.
After cleaning up and packing, everyone gathered on the side of the hill, where certificates, both amusing and serious, were given out; witty skits were performed; and a special song saying, “Be a light, a shining light, for all the world to see. … I’ve found a friend, I’ve found a friend in you” was taught.
With those words lingering, they journeyed down to board the boat for home.

One day I asked my granddaughter Raquel what she thought about setting a goal to read the Book of Mormon. Raquel had recently learned how to read.
“But, Grandpa,” she said, “it’s so hard. It’s a big book.”
Then I asked her to read me a page. I took out a stopwatch and timed her. It took her only three minutes to read the page.
We read the Book of Mormon in Spanish, and the Spanish version of the Book of Mormon has 642 pages. I told her it would take her 1,926 minutes to read the whole book.
This might have scared her even more, so I divided that number by 60 minutes. I told her she would need only 32 hours to read the book. That would be less than a day and a half!
Then she said to me, “That’s so easy, Grandpa!”
It took Raquel, her brother, Esteban, and our other grandchildren a little more time to read the Book of Mormon. That is because when we read it, we need to take time to pray and to think about what we have read.

Karine Dauriat, 12, of Poitiers, talks about life before and after November 1987. “That’s when our family was baptized,” she explains. “There’s a big difference in our home since we joined the Church.”
“That’s true,” says her sister Christelle, 15. “We’re nicer to each other. I think it’s because from the first time the missionaries came, we felt a feeling of joy. We started to understand why we’re here on earth and what we should be doing.”
“We have a common goal now,” says another sister, Sandrine, who is 17. “We want to keep the commandments so we can be an eternal family.”

Stephen Owino is a longtime resident of the city and a modern-day pioneer in every sense of the word. Neatly woven into his rich tapestry of faith are the comely threads of curiosity and patience in pursuit of truth. His soul-stirring conversion story involves multiple actors, across two different continents, working in concert to help him along the well-traveled path of discipleship. This mild-mannered, sociable father of three wrestled with the same questions that Joseph Smith and every honest seeker of truth must inevitably ask. Who am I? What is the purpose of life? Which church should I join?
Stephen’s onward march on the covenant path began with a simple online search for churches in Kenya, back in 2018. It was during one of those searches that he stumbled upon a passing reference to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and thought to himself, “What a peculiarly long name for a church.” Several clicks later—and what can only be described as a prompting from the Spirit—he would reach out halfway around the world to Tonya Isom, inquiring about the possibility of meeting with the missionaries so he could learn more about her beliefs. Why Tonya? For some reason he can’t explain, her thumbnail image stood out above the rest on the Church’s official Facebook page and he felt like she could help him find the answers he was looking for.
Several weeks elapsed before Tonya got around to reading Stephen’s message. In her reply, she included links to the official Church website and directed Stephen on how he could contact local missionaries. With the help of the Church’s online meetinghouse locator, she helped Stephen find the nearest chapel, which was some 9,570 miles away from her own hometown of Alamo, California.
On January 24, 2020, Tonya helped Stephen connect with Elder James Steward and his companion who were full-time missionaries serving in her California ward at the time. Over the course of the next three months, these missionaries would visit Stephen remotely via WhatsApp, sharing with him the message of the restored gospel. They encouraged him to read the Book of Mormon and to attend church regularly.
Because Stephen lives in Nairobi, the responsibility for teaching and preparing Stephen for baptism was assigned by Nairobi Kenya Mission president Khumbulani Mdletshe to sisters Clementine, Fretton, and Dingili—serving in Nairobi as full-time missionaries. They began teaching Stephen the missionary lessons.
Elder Steward—who had kept a meticulous digital record of Stephen’s progress—could not hide his joy when learning that, six months after their virtual encounter, Stephen had committed to baptism. Elder Steward credits this early experience with online teaching—long before it became the norm in his own mission—to “the Lord’s perfect timing”.
On August 23, 2020, Elder Steward—along with Tonya (and some invited members of Tonya’s family)—tuned in on a video call to watch Stephen’s baptism, confirmation, and subsequent ordination to the Aaronic Priesthood under the hand of Bishop Benard Oliech, of the Upper Hill Ward in Nairobi. It is remarkable when contemplating all the realities made possible by modern technology—that during this time of COVID-19, the Lord’s work is still able to proceed. Those present by video at the baptism described a feeling of the Spirit from their different regions of the world. “It’s a modern-day miracle,” Tonya observed.
Tonya finds great comfort in sharing the gospel. She firmly believes, “Where much is given, much is expected.” (See Luke 12:48.) In a recent video call attended by members of Upper Hill Ward, she admonished all to, “Remember the worth of souls is great in the sight of God” (D&C 18:10).
Stephen, like thousands of Church members around the globe, isn’t shy about flooding the world with gospel light of his own through social media. And who knows? Perhaps another wandering soul in a part of the world, near to or distant from Stephen, will catch a glimmer of his light thus shared, and find a friend—and thus redemption.

Photographs by Christina Smith
Caroline M. from Tennessee, USA, loves to spread joy. “I like it when people are happy,” she says. “My purpose in life is to help people know how much Jesus loves them. My purpose here on earth is to spread hope, happiness, and love.”
“My purpose in life is to help people know how much Jesus loves them. My purpose here on earth is to spread hope, happiness, and love.”
Caroline enjoys learning the gospel of Jesus Christ, living what she learns, and sharing the gospel with others. She knows the gospel brings great joy because she has experienced it for herself.
Caroline finds joy in the gospel of Jesus Christ because “it brings so much love to everyone.” She says: “I follow Jesus Christ by being obedient. He is the source of peace and happiness and love—that is who Jesus Christ is to me. He died for us and paid for our sins so that we can be like Him.”
Seminary is one way Caroline has been able to learn the gospel, and it’s been a good experience for her. “I love early morning seminary. I’m a morning person.” The students come to her house since her mom is the seminary teacher. “Not a lot of people are members of the Church where I live. But a few members go to my high school and come to seminary with me.”
“I love early morning seminary. I’m a morning person.”
She’s enjoyed studying the Old Testament in seminary this year. One of her favorite stories is the account of the Creation in the book of Genesis. “I love reading about the Creation because it shows Jesus created this world for me. It makes me really happy to think that He did that for me.”
Living the gospel also brings Caroline great joy. She loves Jesus Christ and wants to follow Him, which helped her to understand the importance of being baptized. “I knew I needed to obey God’s commandments, that I needed to make covenants with Him and follow the right path.”
By being baptized, she knew she’d be following the right path—the path Jesus showed us. For her, being baptized “felt so amazing.” Through her desire to make and keep covenants and her desire to serve others and bring them joy, she shows she wants to follow Jesus Christ.
Another way that Caroline experiences the joy of the gospel often is through Church activities. She loves going to Young Women classes and activities because of the happiness she finds there. “The Young Women make me smile and laugh.”
She also enjoys going to Young Women camp. “When I’m at Young Women camp, everyone is around me and I can feel the Spirit. It reminds me of when I was baptized.”
Caroline also experiences the joy of the gospel in her everyday life. “Every time I play the piano or the guitar, every time I ask God to help someone, whenever I’m lonely, whenever I’m listening to uplifting music—that all shows me that the Savior loves me because I can hear Him.”
When Caroline was at Young Women camp, she bore testimony of the fact that she is a daughter of God, that He has a purpose for her in this life, and that her purpose is to bring joy and love to others. “A lot of people told me how much they loved my testimony.”
One special thing about this particular testimony was that everyone could clearly hear her and understand what she was saying. This made Caroline happy since that is not always the case. Caroline has Down syndrome, and she says it’s common for people to have a hard time understanding everything a person with Down syndrome says.
The Spirit was strong as she bore her testimony, and afterward many people said that hearing Caroline’s testimony was one of the most sacred experiences of their lives. She knew the Spirit clearly confirmed the truth of what she was saying.
Caroline has learned for herself that serving others brings joy! The Holy Ghost has helped her to feel the joy of the gospel and the joy of following Jesus Christ, and she wants others to experience that same feeling. By spreading happiness and love to others, she brings the Spirit into their lives. And by sharing what brings her joy, she invites them to come unto Christ.

Tolosa district president Jose Medina and his wife, Felicitas, had their own trial of faith. Felicitas was active in another church but had doubts about it and was searching for the Lord’s true Church. She was praying fervently that she could find it while her children were still young, so she could teach them about it. Then one day while sweeping the floor, she found a pamphlet about Joseph Smith. To this day she doesn’t know how it got there because their house was located in a gated community missionaries were not allowed to enter. She read the pamphlet and wanted to know more about the Church, so she requested that the missionaries visit.
Her husband missed the first three discussions, but the missionaries told her to pray about what they had taught. Felicitas prayed, and she had a dream about the Savior. “It was as if it were the Second Coming,” she says. “People were rejoicing, but we were not because we were not a part of them.” She knew she had found the true religion, and she wanted her husband to share in her discovery.
Jose listened to the missionaries, but he wasn’t interested in baptism because he was a heavy smoker. He told the elders he believed in the Ten Commandments, and one of the missionaries asked him why he was not keeping all of them. The elder said one of the commandments was “Thou shalt not kill” (Ex. 20:13). “You’re killing yourself little by little by smoking,” he said.
Finally Jose agreed to be baptized, but because he was still smoking, the missionaries had to delay his baptism. Felicitas knew her husband needed extra motivation, so she told him she would fast one meal for every cigarette he smoked. “You will die then,” he replied, “because I smoke five packs of cigarettes a day.” But with the Lord’s help, he quit smoking and was baptized 15 days later.
Within three months Brother Medina was called as branch president. Later he served as district executive secretary and district clerk. He now serves as district president. Sister Medina has served as Young Women president and Relief Society president in both the branch and the district and has taught seminary for 10 years. “We love it,” she says. “It’s worth it. All the blessings we receive are from God.”

You can also be an influence for good so that the gospel message will shine through your countenance. I recently heard of a young woman who invited a group of her friends to bring their dates to her home after a dance. One couple stopped on the way to pick up a videotape to watch. As they played it, the group realized it was an R-rated movie. This young woman became disturbed and excused herself to talk to her parents. They reminded her that R-rated movies are not shown in their home and suggested that someone should turn it off. The young woman said she would do it, and she did. Everyone seemed relieved. This is a simple incident, but it illustrates a point. A young woman who wanted to be good acted on her desires, and a whole group of youth were spared a little bit of evil. Repeated many times over, until they become a pattern, such actions can be an influence that will spread through the Church and through society.

Consider the example of this young deacon in the Aaronic Priesthood as shared in his talk in the Benin Ikpopan Stake conference, where I recently presided. The young deacon, Nelson Wonodi, had always admired how young men dressed and served at the sacrament table every Sunday. I share his first day experience with approval from his parents in his words:
“Ever since I was a little boy, I watched the young men in my ward pass the sacrament, and I longed for the day when I could do the same. I would sit in my seat, staring at them thinking, ‘One day, that’s going to be me.’ I even practiced at home, carefully pretending to pass an imaginary tray to my family members, just to make sure I got it right! Then, finally, my day came. I had received the Aaronic Priesthood and was asked to pass the sacrament for the first time. I was so excited … but then something strange happened. As I stood there, holding the tray, looking out at the congregation, my legs started shaking, and my hands felt sweaty. I thought to myself, ‘Wow, is this me? Or am I dreaming?’ It felt surreal. Here I was, finally doing what I had dreamed of for years, but suddenly, I realized just how sacred this responsibility was. This wasn’t just a routine or something I had seen others do. It was real, it was sacred, and it was my privilege to help others remember the Savior”.
Fortunately, a caring congregant, noticing the predicament of the anxious young man, stretched forth her hand, took the tray, and passed it on, thus emboldening young Nelson to continue and successfully accomplish that assignment. Nelson testified that his life of service is preparing him to serve a mission at a later day.

Several years ago I went on a backpacking trip in the Teton Mountains of Wyoming with a group of young women. It was a difficult hike, and on the second day we arrived at the most dangerous part of the hike.
We were going to hike along Hurricane Pass—aptly named because of the strong winds that almost always blow there. We were instructed by a ranger to stay in the center of the path, stay as low as possible on the exposed part of the trail, secure everything in our packs, and move quickly. This was no spot for photographs or for lingering. I was relieved once each of the young women had navigated the spot successfully. And do you know—not one of them asked how close to the edge she could get!
Sometimes as we walk life’s paths, we want to loiter in dangerous places, thinking that it is fun and thrilling and that we are in control. Sometimes we think we can live on the edge and still maintain our virtue. But that is a risky place to be. As the Prophet Joseph Smith told us, “Happiness is the object and design of our existence; and will be the end thereof, if we pursue the path that leads to it; and this path is virtue” (History of the Church, 5:134).
In the Doctrine and Covenants the Lord gives counsel to one of His precious daughters—Emma Smith—to be faithful and to “walk the paths of virtue before me” (D&C 25:2). The Lord’s advice to Emma Smith is also His advice to all His precious daughters. What are those paths, and what is virtue?
Virtue is a pattern of thought and behavior based on high moral standards. It encompasses chastity and moral purity. Virtue includes modesty—in thought, language, dress, and demeanor. Virtue provides an anchor on the path leading to our Heavenly Father’s presence. The paths of virtue lead to happiness in this life and in the life to come. The paths of virtue lead to strong families. The paths of virtue contain the foundation stones for the blessings of eternity. They lead to the temple. No wonder the Prophet Joseph Smith said, “If there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things” (Articles of Faith 1:13).
In another revelation the Lord promises each of us that if we let virtue garnish our thoughts unceasingly, we will have confidence. He promises that our “confidence [will] wax strong” and the Holy Ghost will be our constant companion (see D&C 121:45–46). Living Church standards helps each of us stay on the paths of virtue. Whenever we are worthy of the constant companionship of the Holy Ghost, we can have the confidence that the daily decisions we make will be correct even when they are difficult.
All over the world young women are living lives of virtue and purity. It shows in your eyes and radiates in the light that shines forth from your countenances. But in a world that surrounds us with sights and sounds, music and messages that are less than virtuous, it can be difficult to hold onto virtue. What about those who have made mistakes along the way?
President Monson has said: “If any of you has slipped along the way, there are those who will help you to once again become clean and worthy. Your bishop or branch president is anxious and willing to help and will, with understanding and compassion, do all within his power to assist you in the repentance process that you may once again stand in righteousness before the Lord” (“Examples of Righteousness,” Liahona, May 2008, 65).
Never has there been a time in the history of the world when virtue is more needed. The blessings and promises of being virtuous will help you be free and happy and worthy to enter the Lord’s holy temples. For this reason we have added “virtue” to the Young Women values and theme. Each week when you repeat the theme, I hope you will be reminded of what it means to cherish virtue.

Recently I spoke at the funeral of a twelve-year-old boy. Andrew had recently been ordained a deacon. He was a fine boy, and his friends came from everywhere to attend the funeral. More than half of them were nonmembers who went to school with him, played soccer with him, or worked in community projects with him. Andrew also had an older brother and a younger brother.
When death comes to a young teenager, it is usually unexpected. We may not be even remotely warned of it. Andrew was playing in a cave dug into the side of a sand dune at the beach. The sand walls collapsed and suffocated him. His cousins and other friends had frantically tried to dig him out. It was a horribly tragic experience for all of them, including his older brother, who had also been partially buried under the fallen sand. You can imagine the shock it was for their parents.
As Andrew’s family and close friends gathered beside the casket at the funeral, one particular young friend, Ryan, was having an extremely difficult time saying good-bye to Andrew. I discovered that Ryan and Andrew had been soccer friends for about three years. Ryan was not a member of the Church, but he was from a fine Christian home. At thirteen years of age, he had never before had to face the reality of death that comes when you lose a close friend or loved one.
Ryan cried audibly. He had lost a very close friend. He was comforted by his father, who held him close. Andrew’s father also offered some comfort to Ryan, but he could not be comforted. The loss of a friend was simply more than he could bear.
As I stood at the pulpit at Andrew’s funeral, the Spirit prompted me to tell Ryan that death is not the end of our associations and that our feelings of love and friendship will endure beyond the grave.
I thought Ryan sat up a little straighter on the bench. His eyes became a little drier, and I even thought I saw him nod his head, as if to agree. I thought my spiritual eyes saw Ryan touched by the Spirit.