Gospel Story Finder

Screams of terrified Laurels echoed through the Santa Cruz Mountains. A big, black, hairy “gorilla” had just come charging out of the darkness! The surprise appearance of this unusual creature was just part of the excitement at the San Jose 14th Ward’s first annual Laurel and priest high school graduation party.
The party was planned by the first-year Laurels and priests, and the only information they gave to the “guests of honor” was that they should be at their homes in their Sunday best at 5:30 P.M. on Friday, June 16.
Chauffeurs picked up the graduates and escorted them to a mountain retreat in the heavily forested Santa Cruz Mountains. As they arrived, many wondered what they were doing at a Boy Scout camp in suits and long dresses! Their curiosity was soon satisfied, however, when they were escorted into the beautifully decorated A-frame building. Pictures of the graduates at various ages had been hung on the walls, and classical music created a pleasant atmosphere for the delicious lasagne dinner that was served.
Then came more surprises. The parents of each of the graduates had furnished stories, home movies, and slides of their children, and this provided the first portion of the evening’s entertainment. Afterwards, funny awards were presented to each of the graduates by the above-mentioned “gorilla,” Mr. Chimpchump. (Mr. Chimpchump was a great scientist, explained the emcee, but had somehow been turned into an ape.) Following this, the final event of the evening was an elegant dance.
Everyone seemed to have a great time and to feel the joy that comes from participating in good, wholesome activities. Without a question, a tradition had been starred in San Jose!

Growing up, Sue was just part of the gang until the gang started going a direction she did not care to follow. Her upbringing in the Church gave her a different perspective than her friends.
“In my sophomore year, my friends started doing awful things that would make me cry for them. I just wanted to shake them and ask, ‘What are you doing?’ but you can’t. It was frustrating. I started saying to myself, ‘Hey, Sue, no one is going to stick with you through this. You’re on your own.’”
That’s when she decided to make her own choices and possibly lead her friends in the right direction as well. Her bishop, Allen Dance of the Snoqualmie Valley Ward, noticed her ability to bring people up to a higher level. “Sue has always been a magnet towards the good. She has pulled up the weak in our ward and in the school. She goes out of her way to be friends to people who need a friend. As a result of her example, others have been affected.”

Sixteen-year-old Mai-Anh Doan, her older sister, and two young brothers were separated from their family during the confusion and chaos of the Saigon airlift in April 1975. The entire Saigon Branch of the Church, some 250 men, women, and children, was on the approved evacuation list, but the airlift came to a sudden halt when shelling of the airport damaged the runway so heavily that transport planes could no longer use it. Helicopters were sent in to evacuate as many as they could hold until even they could not safely enter or leave the area.
Mai-Anh and her sister, members of the Saigon Vietnam Branch, waited at the airport for three days to be evacuated. They sat together praying and crying and hoping for the best as incoming shells whistled overhead and exploded on and near the runway. The war had never been so close to them.
Like most others in the Saigon Branch, Mai-Anh was happy with her life in Vietnam. She loved the Church and her country. She did not want to leave but could not and dared not stay. As she took her place on one of the helicopters to be evacuated to safety, her thoughts were of her parents and family who were still on the ground waiting for their turn to board one of the helicopters. She was very much afraid. As the huge, dual-rotored helicopter lifted her through the clouds, she could not hold back tears of despair even as she, with happiness and great relief, thanked God for her safe passage out of Vietnam.
Mai-Anh, her sister, and two brothers were reunited with the rest of their family in Guam about a week after leaving Vietnam. It was a week they will never forget, traveling into the unknown due to circumstances they did not understand. The U.S. Navy ship Deluth was packed stem to stern with thousands of Vietnamese in similar circumstances. As crowded as it was, Mai-Anh’s loneliness nearly consumed her. The fate of her family was a mystery; the life she had known was in shambles. This was surely the lowest point in her young life. As hungry as she was, on Fast Sunday, far out in the Pacific Ocean, she and her sister fasted and prayed for the safety of her parents and other family members. How great was her joy when her father met the bus which took her from the ship to the refugee camp! All of her family were safe! About 60 of the displaced Vietnamese LDS were taken to Guam after the airlift and shared the same barracks.

When I was recently assigned to a conference in the Mission Viejo California Stake, I was touched by an account of their four-stake New Year’s Eve youth dance. Following the dance, a purse was found with no outside identification. I share with you part of what Sister Monica Sedgwick, the Young Women president in the Laguna Niguel stake, recorded: “We didn’t want to pry; this was someone’s personal stuff! So we gingerly opened it and grabbed the first thing that was on top—hopefully, it would identify her. It did, but in another way—it was a For the Strength of Youth pamphlet. Wow! This told us something about her. Then we reached in for the next item, a little notebook. Surely this would give us answers, but not the kind we were expecting. The first page was a list of favorite scriptures. There were five more pages of carefully written scriptures and personal notes.”
The sisters immediately wanted to meet this stalwart young woman. They returned to that purse to identify its owner. They pulled out some breath mints, soap, lotion, and a brush. I loved their comments: “Oh, good things come out of her mouth; she has clean and soft hands; and she takes care of herself.”
They eagerly awaited the next treasure. Out came a clever little homemade coin purse made from a cardboard juice carton, and there was some money in a zippered pocket. They exclaimed, “Ahh, she’s creative and prepared!” They felt like little children on Christmas morning. What they pulled out next surprised them even more: a recipe for Black Forest chocolate cake and a note to make the cake for a friend’s birthday. They almost screamed, “She’s a HOMEMAKER! Thoughtful and service minded.” Then, yes, finally some identification. The youth leaders said they felt greatly blessed “to observe the quiet example of a young lady living the gospel.”6

Throughout her life, our youngest daughter, Joéll, has been a good influence on our family. She was the one who reminded us to have family prayer. She was the one who tried to get us excited about family home evening. She devised treasure hunts; she fixed treats; she would do anything to try to get the family excited about having family home evening. Occasionally her older brothers resisted, but even as they were resisting, there was a respect for what she was trying to do.

This kind of family closeness can continue even after you grow up and leave home. While my wife and I were on our mission, our married children did a lot to support us. They stuck together and held monthly family home evenings. They published a monthly family letter that we all sent back and forth. None of them ever complained about our absence, and it was evident that their testimonies brought them closer together as siblings and to us.

Not even death should separate loving family members for long. The First Presidency and the Council of the Twelve Apostles issued a proclamation to the world concerning families. Part of it states: “The divine plan of happiness enables family relationships to [continue] beyond the grave. Sacred ordinances and covenants available in holy temples make it possible for individuals to return to the presence of God and for families to be united eternally.”

It was unlike any other commencement or baccalaureate exercise I had ever attended or participated in myself. It was held one week ago, last Thursday, on the twenty-third of May. There were forty-four graduates, all male. They did not have traditional academic robes or caps or gowns. Their attire, to a man, was light blue denim shirts and dark blue denim trousers. The ceremony was not held in a fieldhouse or a stadium or even a lovely auditorium. The exercise was held in a modest interdenominational chapel at the Utah state prison. The graduating class consisted of forty-four men who had successfully completed a year’s course of Bible study sponsored by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints but open to all who cared to come and participate. These forty-four represented more than a dozen different religions, and, of course, many of them had no formal religious affiliation at all. At this very moment a lot of images and impressions are coming back to my mind, and I hope I can catch them long enough to share some of them with you.

One is of the delightful, tall, cordial, and warm inmate who conducted the exercises. He immediately warmed the group to the evening. About half were pleasantly and appropriately called “outsiders.” He said he wanted the outsiders particularly to appreciate that he was in prison even though he had hired one of the biggest criminal lawyers in America: “It’s only after I was through with the trial that I fully understood that designation. What it means to be a criminal lawyer is that he thought he was a lawyer and I think he’s a criminal.”

I remember the prayers. The opening prayer was given by a young man, but he seemed like a boy and looked like a boy and I think had not yet begun to shave. He gave there the first verbal and public prayer, according to the chaplain, that he’d ever given in his life. He was frightened to death, but it was a prayer of the heart, and you would need to have been there and to have heard it to appreciate fully what that might have meant. He was in the prison for ten years to life on an armed robbery charge. The closing prayer was given by a man who was, I suppose, forty-five or fifty years old—just a pleasant, warm, slightly chubby man who looked as if he should have been somebody’s uncle and undoubtedly was. He was in for a life term on second-degree murder.

The choir sang, among other numbers, the Hammerstein-Romberg song “Stouthearted Men.” If you could have seen the looks on their faces and felt the feeling in their voices, you would have known something about stouthearted men that you’d never understood before. I don’t think any two of them crossed paths on the same note at any given moment during the rendition. But it was a choir of angels. It really was. When they sang, “Give me some men who are stouthearted men, who will fight for the rights they adore. Give me ten men who are stouthearted men, and I’ll soon give you ten thousand more,” they knew something about rights that had been adored and lost, that were adored all the more because they had been lost, and that perhaps were desired more greatly because someday they might return.

I remember just a couple of other impressions. A young man who was now on the outside had come back to get his certificate and to encourage his colleagues. He said something that I wrote down. I’ll call him Howard, though that isn’t really his name. He looked out to his colleagues and said, “Guys, the perspective in prison is really bad. It really looks better on the outside. Try to remember that.” Then he turned to the outsiders, to the friends and families who had come in, and said, “You people are a light in a dark place. If it were not for love like yours, we would not be able to get from where we are to where we need to be.”

He was followed extemporaneously by another delightful young man who couldn’t have been more than twenty years of age. He had been in and out very quickly—I think for less than eight months on good behavior—and talked about what it was like to be back out, to be keeping a job, dating girls, going to church, and trying to live a moral and law-abiding life. He turned to friend and stranger alike and said, “Please understand that those of us at the halfway house need faith and prayers, too. We have reentered a world of temptation.”

I would also like to mention the concluding comment of the inmate who conducted the service. He said, when it was all over, with some emotion in his voice and a little mist in his eyes, “This is the most auspicious occasion of our year. It is better than Christmas. It’s better than Thanksgiving. It’s even better than Mother’s Day. It’s better because we’re enlightened, and that’s as close as we come to being free.”

Then the gates clanged behind my wife and me. That night we went home, and I confess I couldn’t sleep. Pat fell asleep, it was late, and our children were already asleep, but I couldn’t sleep. That experience haunted me and does yet at this pulpit. That’s why I choose to speak to you tonight as I do. I had in the early hours of that morning, and have had somewhat since, feelings and thoughts and a response to bondage and freedom and their relationship to enlightenment and love in a way that I confess I have never had before—even though I’ve studied those principles and read the doctrines and thought I had a pretty good understanding of what all of them might mean.

It’s not unusual to see two girls giggling as they try to stay up on ice skates. But how often do they do it while working on Personal Progress? In this case, it’s one of many things young women in the Centerville Ward of the Fremont Stake in northern California have done to help one of their own. The skating activity was tailor-made to fit the needs of Jennifer Beck, who has Down syndrome.
Motivated by the spiritual growth and blessings they had seen others receive through participation in Personal Progress, the stake Young Women presidency prayerfully sought guidance about how to help Jennifer, a Mia Maid. Their prayers were answered when they found the following instruction:
“Value Experiences and Value Projects may be modified according to personal or local circumstances, interests, and needs with the prior approval of parents and Young Women leaders. … After careful consideration by parents and leaders, modifications may be appropriate to meet the needs of young women with disabilities” (Guidebook for Parents and Leaders of Youth [pamphlet, 2001], 19–20).
That was how to bring Personal Progress to Jennifer!
The young women and their leaders were asked to read through the Value Experiences in the Personal Progress book and to select one that they felt they could help Jennifer complete. They were encouraged to modify the selected value experience to better suit Jennifer’s abilities by asking themselves, “What is the intent of this Value Experience? What is it that Jennifer is supposed to learn from this experience?”
Each young woman made a written commitment to carry out the Value Experience they would share with Jennifer. All of the commitments were organized onto a calendar indicating who would meet with Jennifer each month and what experience would be completed. This commitment calendar ensured that Jennifer would experience Personal Progress on a regular basis without being overwhelmed. It also helped the Young Women presidency, Jennifer, and her parents to track what she had accomplished.
Since then, Jennifer has had regular Personal Progress experiences that have helped her feel the Spirit and better understand her own divine nature. “Suppose 23 girls took a special interest in you,” her mother, Judy, says. “When people spend time with Jennifer, she feels a bond that makes her life much richer.”
The young women and leaders who have partnered with Jennifer have also received unexpected blessings. “When I met with Jennifer to complete the sixth Value Experience, in Choice and Accountability, I felt like I received more than I gave,” remembers one of the stake leaders. “Hearing her simple yet pure understanding of the Young Women theme and what it means to be a daughter of God taught me so much about His love for each one of us. I felt her testimony of Jesus Christ when I met with Jennifer to create a collection of pictures of the Savior for a sacrament picture book.”
Laura Dunford worked with Jennifer to teach her the principle of tithing. “We made a little box for savings, one for spending money, and most importantly, one for tithing,” Laura explains. “It was really fun. Jennifer is wonderful, and I love her.”
Emily Topham helped Jennifer perform service. “I knew she liked to cook, so I decided to help her make a pizza dinner for her family. We laughed a lot, and afterward she told me her family enjoyed the yummy food. We were both happy to make someone smile.”
At Christmastime Jennifer was able to participate in a hand-bell concert at an interstake pageant. This was a thrilling experience, one she remembers and often talks about.
Jennifer also recalls working in the ward nursery, learning about service by collecting donations for a humanitarian project, learning about listening to clean music and watching appropriate movies, and of course ice skating.
With diligent effort and some help from her friends, Jennifer Beck completed her Personal Progress goals and received her Young Women Medallion. The young women and their leaders in the Freemont Ward appreciated this opportunity to share spiritual experiences with Jennifer, and they continue to be blessed by her sweet testimony and loving spirit. They truly have become united.

Dear Buddy,
Today was a Thanksgiving Day that I’ll never forget! We spent the morning tracting without much success. It was cold, and everyone was busy and didn’t want to talk. Then we spent the afternoon with some members who had invited us for Thanksgiving dinner. And did they ever put on a feast! The food was so good that I kept eating and eating until my belt yelled for mercy. Sister Marshall seemed to enjoy watching us eat, and she kept passing the food around. Then when we left, she gave us each a big package of leftovers wrapped in aluminum foil. It’s great to have members like the Marshalls who help the missionaries.
But it was what happened as we were riding our bikes home that made this an unforgettable Thanksgiving Day. Even though it was cold and windy and almost dark, we took the long way home to help work off some of our dinner. On a lonely road on the outskirts of town, we came upon a girl with long black hair who looked about your age. She was gathering sticks at the side of the road, and she was wearing a long-sleeve blouse, a shawl around her shoulders, a skirt, and sandals.
Elder Butler and I stopped, concerned about her being out in the bitter cold. Her name is Rosita. She didn’t know much English, but she took us to her mother, who was also gathering wood not far away. We helped them gather broken branches and old sticks until everyone’s arms were full. Then they took us to their home.
They live in a small shack with a woodburning stove in the middle. The only one who speaks much English is the father, and he was on a mattress in the corner, sick with a fever.
Their name is Morales. They recently came from Central America. Mr. Morales said that he brought his family to the United States to have a better life. He had a job here, but he lost it when he got sick.
There was hardly any furniture, and the room was smoky and drafty. They need so much—even simple things, like clothes for winter. All they had was what they’d brought in three suitcases. And each other. As I looked into their faces, I felt that I was in the presence of modern Pilgrims. Suddenly Thanksgiving became much more real to me. It is more than parades and football games on TV and tight belts from eating too much turkey and yams and pumpkin pie. Thanksgiving means hope and freedom.
Elder Butler and I gave Mr. Morales a blessing, and we gave our leftovers from dinner at the Marshalls to the Morales. They thanked us again and again and asked us to come back to visit them. We will.
Riding home, I no longer felt the cold wind blowing in my face and up the sleeves of my coat. All I could feel was the warmth of gratitude for all the blessings that we enjoy.
Love,Reed

Last year, when I was five years old, I wanted to practice being a missionary. I decided to give the family home evening lesson. I prepared the lesson by myself. I cut out temple pictures from old magazines so I could talk about temples. When I showed a picture of a temple, I asked my family to guess which temple it was. Then I read the name that was written on the back of it. I wore my church clothes. On my white shirt, I had attached a little missionary tag that my grandparents had given me. It said “Future Missionary.”
This experience helped me to be more like Jesus Christ because He was a missionary too. He taught and served many people. I want to be a missionary like Jesus Christ.

I can see only 10 percent of what is around me—mostly objects that are big and that move slowly. But that changed for a few moments one afternoon.
No one seemed to be around as I sat on a shady hill. The grass beneath me covered the earth like a green carpet, and I savored the smell of nearby roses. I knelt to touch each flower, thankful that I could see a small part of God’s lovely world.
Suddenly, I sensed movement close to me. Then I heard a chirp about a foot away. It must be a bird, I thought, wishing I could see it. I had never seen a real bird, just pictures of them in books. But I never would: they were so small, and they flew so swiftly.
My pulse quickened as I caught a glimpse of something brown. I strained my eyes until I could tell that the object was a bird. I stared in awe as the bird spread his wings majestically before me. I held my breath, not wanting to scare him away.
He lingered only briefly. As he disappeared into the blue sky, I wept freely. I had seen something so exquisite that I wanted to see more.
But soon another thought passed through my mind. If I could fully see, I might not value every priceless image as I now did. I might not see inner beauty as easily, nor have the compassion I had learned from my own suffering. It was God’s gentle reminder of his will for me. I could serve him best as I was.
I dried my eyes. “Thank you, Lord,” I prayed, “for letting me see a bird.”

During adversity and suffering in post-Soviet Russia, Anatoly and Svetlana Reshetnikov chose righteousness over worldliness. After joining the Church, they were persecuted. He was demoted from his position at work. Valiantly they thought, “Now we have more time to serve God!” They repeatedly received threats, yet they chose to live gospel-centered lives. Elder Anatoly Reshetnikov was called as the first Russian Area Seventy. Through their choices the Reshetnikovs continue to choose eternal life.

Sometimes it’s difficult to find the time to talk. If that’s the case, try some creative approaches. One young missionary told me, “I always wanted to talk to my mom. Oh, we talked about lots of things but never about anything serious or personal. We had a good relationship—we got along well—but we never really talked.
“There was so much that I wanted to tell her, so many questions I wanted to ask her before I went on my mission, but I just couldn’t do it.
“So I wrote her a letter, a long letter, and left it on her dresser. That really opened things up for us, and we had a couple of great talks before I left.”

One day after school, when we were waiting for the school bus, a friend who was in another class gave me an expensive video game. My parents wondered if my friend’s parents knew that he had given it to me. We agreed that if his parents wrote a note that it was OK, I could keep it.
I didn’t know my friend’s last name, so the next day, I took the game to my teacher and explained about it. My teacher took the game to my friend’s teacher, who called his parents. My friend’s parents didn’t want him to give away the game, so he took it home. Both teachers were impressed with how honest I was, and my teacher even e-mailed my mom about it. I was glad that I did the right thing.

When Peter brought the sheep off the hillside that evening, he saw the king’s messenger riding away from Pleasant Valley. To have a messenger come to their small town was unusual. Peter chased the sheep into the cote and raced indoors to see what had happened. His two older brothers were dressed in their best clothing, and their mother was hurrying back and forth between the fireplace and the table.
“What’s going on?” Peter asked. “I saw the king’s messenger ride away from—”
“It doesn’t concern you,” Dominic broke in rudely. “Wise old Trebor is retiring, and our king needs a new advisor.”
Richard shoved his empty plate aside. “The messenger announced that all young men between the ages of fourteen and thirty would be interviewed by Trebor. Dominic and I are going to the castle in hopes that one of us will be chosen.”
“You must go, too, Peter,” his mother urged, placing her hands on his shoulders and frowning when her two older sons grumbled about being nursemaids.
“But,” Peter said. “I’ll not be fourteen until tomorrow. And I’m surely not wise.”
“But you’ll be fourteen by the time you arrive at the castle,” his mother reminded him.
Two mornings later it looked to Peter as though every young man from the small country of Meritania stood shoulder to shoulder in the castle’s courtyard. A stillness fell over the group when old Trebor hobbled onto a balcony.
“Young sires, tomorrow I will choose someone who shall be trained to take my place,” he said, his voice cracking with age. He clasped the balcony railing for support. “Today I will speak with each of you personally. And tomorrow there will be a final test to help me decide my successor.”
Early the next morning Trebor appeared on the balcony. “After interviewing all you young men, I will dismiss all but three.”
Peter’s heart pounded when he heard his name announced as one of the contenders.
“The old man must be slipping!” Dominic fumed. “Imagine choosing an inexperienced stripling like you, Peter, over a smart fellow like me!”
Richard laughed. “Our mother pleaded with you to finish school, Dominic, and to get an education, but you dropped out,” he said, “and it shows.”
“I’ll admit you have more schooling than I have,” Dominic agreed as he scowled at his brother. “But old Trebor didn’t miss much during those interviews, and I’m sure he noticed how soft your hands are from lack of hard work.”
“He probably also noticed that you talk so much you never hear anyone but yourself!” Richard’s voice rose in anger.
Peter hid his calloused hands behind his back and moved away from his brothers while the argument continued. He wondered what Trebor’s final test would be.
At ten o’clock Peter and two other young men approached Trebor in the castle’s great hall. The old man leaned on a cane, and peered at them from watery eyes.
“You have an hour to complete this test,” he quavered. “Go into the city and bring to me whatever you consider most important for a wise man to have. You are not to speak to each other about this, and you must travel alone.” Trebor waved his gnarled hand toward the castle’s drawbridge and shuffled over to sit down on a bench.
Peter and the other contestants hurried off toward the city. And, within five minutes of the hour, all three of them had returned. Trebor motioned for them to lay what they’d brought on a table near where he sat. “What is in that large package?” he asked.
“A bolt of precious material, sire,” replied one of the young men and unwrapped his package. “Clothes make the man,” he declared with a look of satisfaction on his face. “And one is accepted anywhere if he is well dressed.”
Hardly glancing at the elegant fabric, Trebor pointed a finger at a small leather pouch. “What does that contain?” he asked.
The second young man bowed confidently and said, “Sire, it is filled with gold dust. Gold will buy anything—fame, fortune, friends, shelter. A wise man needs all these things.”
Trebor’s expression didn’t change by one wrinkle as he pointed to Peter’s package. “Your package looks as though it came from the meat seller’s stall in the market,” he commented.
Peter’s face reddened when the other two young men snickered. “Yes, sire. It is a tongue, but more than that it is a reminder.”
“Explain, please,” Trebor said and sat forward interestedly, cupping a hand behind his ear.
“A tongue can do much harm or much good,” Peter said. “Harsh, untrue, or thoughtless words can hurt. Soft words, intelligent words, considerate words should fall from a wise man’s tongue.”
“You’re right, Peter!” declared Trebor, and he reached across the table to clasp Peter’s hands. “And since you shall be our king’s new adviser, I pray you will never forget the wisdom of your words.”

Sometimes the larger eternal reality the Lord lets us feel includes family across the veil. A sister found joy in conversion to Jesus Christ’s restored gospel. Yet two traumas had deeply impacted her life—seeing a boating accident and tragically losing her mother, who had taken her own life.
Yet this sister overcame her fear of water enough to be baptized by immersion. And on what became a very happy day, she witnessed someone, acting as proxy for her deceased mother, be baptized in the temple. “Temple baptism healed my mother, and it freed me,” the sister said. “It was the first time I felt peace since my mother died.”

My great-grandma’s candy dish doesn’t hold a lot of candy these days. Instead, it sparkles under the display lights in my grandpa’s cabinet, and the lights reflect off the grooves of the crystal in the dish. Most people save things to remind them of happy memories, but my grandpa has saved this candy dish to remind him of an important lesson.
When my grandpa was 10, his family had a rule against playing ball in the house. But he loved basketball, so one day when it was raining outside, you can guess what he decided to do. Instead of following the rules, he went into the living room to play basketball, and it quickly got him into trouble.
He threw a pass, and the basketball hit the bracket of an antique mirror, causing the mirror to fall onto a grand piano where his mom displayed her crystal collection. The mirror shattered onto the piano and broke all the crystal dishes except one single candy dish.
When his mom came to see what had happened, she sent him to his room. He felt awful; he knew she loved those dishes. His dad came to his room and they discussed a punishment. Then, his mom entered the room with a wrapped box. Inside was the surviving candy dish. His mom said, “I’m giving you this dish to remind you that I love you more than any of the dishes you broke.”
One day that candy dish will be passed down to my mom and then to me, but we could never sell it. In our family, the candy dish represents how much love a mother has for her children. Even though Great-Grandma lost nearly her entire crystal collection, she gained something even more important—a stronger relationship with her son.
Material possessions can be replaced, but families are worth a lot more than crystal. Family members are the most important people. My family, including my mom, dad, and brothers, mean more to me than anything else. I’d give up a million crystal dishes to be with my family forever.

My dad had joined the Church in Utah in December 1991. When he came back to Nigeria, we went to church for the first time. I got baptized in January 1992 when I was nine years old. When I was 14, the prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008), came to Nigeria at Port Harcourt. My family drove from Owerri to Port Harcourt. When we were driving back, the airport is along the Owerri road, we saw the prophet’s car. We told my father “Follow him”.
So, we followed the prophet to the airport. At the airport, they told the prophet some members had come to say goodbye. Nobody told us to come. We were just lucky to see the prophet on the way. While the prophet was shaking all our hands, he shook my hand and held my it and said, “Will you go on a mission?”
I said “Yes”.
The prophet said, “If you go on a mission, the Lord will bless you and your family.”
I was 14 years then and had not entered university. I got my first degree before going on a mission. I entered university life in Nigeria. University life was different and influenced me. Then the miracles began. After you get your degree, you are required to do a year of national youth service. When I was called to do my national service, I was called to Lagos. Normally, a lot of people pay money in bribes to the government to go to Lagos, but I didn’t pay anything. While I was in Lagos, I had a mighty change of heart and I prepared to go on a mission. From Lagos I was sent to Accra as a missionary. I met my wife and came back to Accra after my mission, and we got married in 2010.
I am from Nigeria; but I live in Ghana. In January 2023, I went to my village to participate in the presidential election. The Church is not there. One day a man and a woman came to visit me at my house. I am married to a Ghanaian, and they wanted to talk to me. While visiting with them, what came into my mind was the question, “what can I do for this family?” I felt like the best gift I could give this family was the gospel. I asked them if I could come to their home on Tuesday to teach them. As I was teaching them, they were responding positively. I focused on family and taught them the importance of family first. I then went to the house next door to teach their neighbors. I did not even start with my kindred. My kindred came to me later and were upset. They said to me, “how can you start a church and not even tell us?”
It was not my plan to do missionary work when I was there. I took my scriptures, but I did not even take a white shirt and tie.
As I was going around teaching the people of the village, there was a man who was baptized in 1982. He joined the Church in Lagos but when he came back to the village, the Church was not there. He became a pastor and used the Church’s Bible Dictionary and Topical Guide to teach. The people there thought he was a brilliant pastor. They didn’t know where he was getting his information from. Because he was technically a member, I focused on teaching his wife and daughter. The whole family got baptized. I was using my own money to hire a van to go to church in Umuahia, which was the closest place. The bishop and stake president were happy to receive us. My father even came from the city to the village to go to church with us.
I told my elder brother, who is a stake president in Owerri, what was going on. He said we fell under the Nigeria Enugu Mission. Eventually, we got permission to worship in my village. We decided to use my grandfather’s house to hold church in. My grandfather has passed away. When he was alive, white missionaries came to him and he said he would support the Church, this was back in the 90’s.
The people helped me move all the property and clean the house. The people cleaned the house as if they were members, but they were not yet baptized. The missionaries came and on the first Sunday, we had about 19 baptisms and later more, for a total of 39 baptisms. The stake president has applied for us to become a branch. My father came and bore his testimony and said he never thought the Church would be in his village.
The group still worships in my grandfather’s house. From my village, we now have two high councilmen called. There is someone enrolled in BYU Pathways. The Church is growing, and it makes me happy.

I have been blessed to have a mother who has spent her life preparing to meet God. She understands the principles of creating, learning, and serving in this life. Her motto has been “Welcome the task that makes you go beyond yourself, and you will grow.” Let me tell you a few highlights from her adventure-filled life. In her youth she lived in the wild Uinta Mountains, where her father worked. She learned to cut tall trees, fish, and camp in the outdoors. During the winter she attended school in the city, played on a basketball team, and learned to play the trumpet. She went to the university and became a nurse. After she was married, she went on a mission with her husband to Brazil, where she learned to speak Portuguese. She has traveled to many countries and has taught the gospel to thousands. She studies the scriptures daily, has written several family history books, works in the temple, keeps track of 62 grandchildren, and can cook 600 doughnuts in one morning!
My mother has stayed in the Savior’s path with unshaken faith in Him (see 2 Nephi 31:19) all the days of her life. She wakes up every day looking forward to new adventures. For her, life is so interesting, and she still has so much to learn.

For example, one of my responsibilities is to act as navigator, guiding the helicopter pilot to the incident scene. Emergency helicopters can and do fly most anywhere, which makes them invaluable for reaching accident scenes quickly but it also makes them vulnerable. When we are flying at more than 140 miles (225 km) per hour, power cables and telephone wires can be practically invisible. And they can slice through a helicopter in an instant.
On one trip we were coming in to land in a most awkward place. Suddenly the Spirit told me, “Put the clipboard down!” Again almost immediately, I felt, “Put it down!” So I leaned forward to place my clipboard on the case by my knees. As I did so, my point of view altered, and I saw the power cable right below us. “Wires! Wires! Wires below!” was all I could say. And even though we actually touched the cable and caused it to bow, the pilot responded instantly, and we lifted away and were saved. That was the closest to disaster I have come. Without the Spirit’s prompting, that emergency call would have had a very different ending.

Dandelions sparkled on the emerald grass, trees gathered shade beneath their branches, and lilacs spread perfume over the hot summer day. Father was in the meadow tending the fruit trees, and mother sang as she set her clothes to the wind. Resting in the crook of the elm’s strong arms, I watched over the twins at play. My eye, however, wandered toward the lane and longed for uncharted trails.
Then, something moved along the shadow line cast by the rails of our fence. I sat up and squinted, straining to see the first glimpse of our expected visitor. Like a sentinel, I shouted a warning. “Aunt Lillian is coming, Mother!”
She froze with a clothespin in her mouth and folded sheet in her hands, then turned to where I pointed. “Come down from there now, Em!” she called. “Greet your aunt in a ladylike fashion.”
I swung down from the tree and smoothed my clothes, then gathered the twins and brushed their hair with my hands. When my aunt had climbed out of her car, she gave us hugs and kisses, then turned toward my mother and father, anxious to catch up on all the news.
It was not until the following day that I had an opportunity to talk with Aunt Lillian. She sought me out as I folded clothes in the sun.
“Busy at it, huh, Em?” she asked with an easy smile.
“There’s always something to do,” I sighed.
“Here, I’ll help you,” she offered as she took an apron from the pile.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the sun shine on her hair and marveled at how much she looked like my mother. She was younger, but their features were much the same. Yet, there was an air of excitement about her to be sure, that my mother did not have, and she smiled often as though she knew a happy secret. I wanted to share that happiness if I could.
“Did you like being a missionary?”
“I loved it, Em,” she replied sincerely. She looked at me with sparkling eyes that seemed to see beyond where they looked. “There’s so much to do though … I almost regret that it’s over. Still, my call was only for eighteen months so it was time to come home.”
“What’s it like?” I asked eagerly. “I mean, it must have been very exciting.”
Aunt Lillian smiled, then touched my arm with a gentle hand. “During the nights in Central America you can sometimes hear jungle noises. The banks of the rivers are covered with animal tracks, and where there was a path only a few months ago, the tangled growth soon gobbles it up again.” Her eyes held a dreamy, faraway look, and a minute passed before she continued. “The people are kind and uncomplicated—much the same as they are everywhere. They love their families, plant crops, wash clothes. They fight disease and pray.”
“The same?” I pleaded disappointedly.
“Certainly.” She laughed softly. “Oh, I see, you think things there are different and fascinating. Well, I suppose they are in a way. They don’t have television, cars, and things like that as much as we do. But day to day, things are really not so very different. The children ask the same questions you are asking.”
“But being a welfare missionary was more exciting than it is living here, wasn’t it?” I insisted.
Aunt Lillian smiled. “Doing the Lord’s work is always exciting wherever you are,” she answered. Then she asked, “Does being a missionary appeal to you?”
“Oh, yes! More than staying here,” I replied. “Mother washes clothes on Monday, irons on Tuesday, cooks meals every day. And it’s all so boring! I don’t think I want to get married and have children when I grow up. I want to travel and do different things like you’ve done.”
My aunt nodded and moved the folded clothes to one side, then sat on the wooden bench. “I know exactly how you feel, Em,” she confessed. “When I was a girl, I climbed trees too. It was my way of getting a better view of things. Your mother was always the more domestic one.”
“Yes, she’s told me.”
“But to her, those things aren’t boring. They’re her life and they’re very important. However, that doesn’t mean that you have to be exactly like her. Wouldn’t it be awful if we all did the same thing? Besides, your mother and father allow you to be as you are, don’t they?”
I nodded. “Mother doesn’t really like me climbing trees very much.”
Aunt Lillian laughed. “My mother didn’t either,” she said. “But she didn’t stop me any more than your mother stops you. I think,” my aunt continued, glancing toward the house, “that the Lord shapes our lives. And your parents are allowing Him to shape yours. In good time, you’ll get tired of climbing trees, then you’ll stop.”
“When did you stop climbing them?”
“When I had seen all there was to see from up there. Then I followed where my heart would lead. I was asked if I’d like to go on a mission. Now, I’m home again and hope to marry and have children someday. But there are many other things I still want to do too.”
“Oh, Aunt Lillian,” I gasped. “I can’t imagine you marrying and having children! You’ve had such an exciting life!”
“Honey,” she said with a curious smile, “you can only see the side you live with. Think of it from my point of view. I’ve helped other people with their children and taught them and tended them when they were sick. But they were other women’s children. As much as you envy me and what I did, I sometimes envy your mother’s contentment with her family. Now I want one of my own. Your mother has represented a family with roots ever since our parents died, and I’ve always drawn strength from her. Yes, I’m like a branch. I’ve reached and extended myself, doing what I was called to do, but I never let go of the root.”
“I think I’d like to be a branch too,” I replied.
“You may well be,” she replied softly. “But both are important, for it takes many people doing many different things to accomplish all we are meant to do. We all have a place and are loved by our Heavenly Father.”
“Do you think I’ll ever find my place?” I wondered. “Or will I always just see things from the top of a tree?”
“The Lord will lead you to your place, honey,” she said with a brilliant smile. “And I know you’ll be content there. Then you’ll do your best, and that’s the important thing, you know.”
“I ask too many questions, don’t I?”
“A question is the only way to an answer,” she replied. Then she touched my hair and smiled. “Now suppose we take the clothes indoors for your mother.”
I walked beside my aunt and watched her from the corner of my eye. She looked so like my mother that it was hard to believe they could be so different.
Then, as we entered the kitchen, I could smell the mouth-watering aroma of freshly baked pies, pies that only my mother could bake. With a smile, I knew my Aunt was right. The important thing—no matter what we do—is to do our best and find contentment in doing it. Since both my mother and my aunt do that, maybe they really aren’t so different after all.