Gospel Story Finder

It was autumn of 1997 and Gabin Mendene had just passed the baccalaureate examinations at his high school in Libreville, the capital city of Gabon. This was a great personal achievement, and he looked forward to a continuation of his studies at the university level. He was hoping to take advantage of a scholarship program that years before had been created by the government of this French-speaking African country. The program sponsored college-eligible students who were accepted at a public or private university anywhere in the world.
Gabin had applied to, and had been accepted at, L’institut Supérieur Industriel à Mons, a technical university in the southern Belgian city of Mons. The government’s scholarship would provide tuition, supplies, housing, and food assistance. He also received a one-way airline ticket for the 8,000-mile journey from Libreville to Brussels. The return ticket would be sent to him after graduation.
For the next four years he studied in an electrical engineering program and upon his graduation in 2002, Gabin prepared to return to Libreville. His program of study was finished, and he had received the last of his scholarship funds. He communicated with the program office in Gabon about his return airline ticket and was surprised to learn that due to bureaucratic complications, funding for his return airfare would be delayed. Gabin was crushed and felt completely stranded in a very difficult situation. He had no money, no place to live, and no prospect of finding even a temporary job since he was living in Belgium with a student visa.
It was during this period of struggle that he met two young men, Elder Roueché and Elder Marin, in Charleroi, Belgium. They taught him about the Book of Mormon and about the gospel of Jesus Christ. “These were some of the craziest ideas I had ever heard—angels, gold plates, and prophets living in our modern times,” Gabin recalls. After a few lessons, the missionaries invited him to go to the Charleroi Ward with them. Gabin protested, “I did not want to go to church with them.” But he finally told the missionaries that he would go to church once, and then he wanted them to leave him alone.
The following Sunday, they met on the sidewalk in front of the Charleroi chapel and walked through the front door. To this day, Gabin remembers the moment when his feet touched the carpeting inside the building. He heard a voice—more of an electrified feeling, really—telling him that this was a place where he belonged. After church services were over, he told the elders that he wanted to be baptized. This happened not long afterward.
Meanwhile, Gabin’s return ticket to Libreville remained undetermined. Fortunately, the kind-hearted Havrenne family, members of the Charleroi Ward, invited Gabin to live at their home in Erquelines, a small town near Charleroi, while his situation in Gabon was being resolved. After several weeks, his hosts insisted that he stay and proposed to have him help with the gardening around the house. “It was a difficult time in my life,” Gabin recalls. “Here I was, a trained electronics engineer with no money and no job—stranded in Belgium, pruning bushes and pulling weeds. But through it all I learned humility and this experience was one of the best lessons in my life.”
By 2005, Gabin still worked for his room and board as a gardener—and he was still struggling with the government of Gabon to organize his return. His Belgian student visa had long-since expired. In limited correspondence with his older brother in Libreville, Gabin learned that his family was very discouraged by the situation and desperately wanted him to return home.
By this time, he had received the Melchizedek Priesthood and had been ordained an elder. He also received his patriarchal blessing. In separate interviews, his bishop and stake president asked if he might be interested in serving a full-time mission. Gabin responded, “Yes, I would.” A missionary application was completed and submitted—and a few weeks later Gabin received his mission call from Salt Lake City. He was instructed to enter the missionary training centre on 20 June 2006—and then report to the Brussels Belgium Mission—a mere 60 kilometers from where he was then living.
Missionary preparation began in earnest and Gabin went to The Hague Netherlands Temple where he received his endowment. He was anxious to serve the next two years as a full-time missionary, but after having informed his family in Libreville of his plans, they became angry with him. They could not understand why he was interested in running off on a mission. “You must return home”, he was told. “After all, we supported you and it is selfish not to return home to help out the family.” Gabin became conflicted and during this personal struggle, he met with President Kevin S. Hamilton, who at the time was President of the Brussels Belgium Mission and who was to become his mission president. He asked for advice and counsel. President Hamilton, told him, “Trust in God—things happen for a reason. Everything will turn out all right, but in unexpected ways”.
A few days before his departure—and in a twist of fate that can only be understood by going forward in time to several years later—Gabin received two official letters in the mail. One, from the government of Belgium, indicated it had recently discovered that he was living in Belgium on an expired student visa and ordered him to be immediately deported back to Gabon. The second letter was from Libreville—and included his return airline ticket.
The stake president recommended that Gabin fly home and then he would work with the missionary department in Salt Lake City to get things sorted out. So, in the spring of 2006—nine years after first having left his family in Libreville—Gabin was finally going home. He packed a suitcase, and among his personal possessions were two copies of the Book of Mormon, his mission call, DVDs of both 2004 general conferences, his patriarchal blessing, a few tithing slips, and some temple garments.
Over the next few weeks, the stake president in Charleroi worked with the missionary department in Salt Lake City to resolve this unusual situation. Things became even more complicated because in 2006 the Church was not officially recognized by the government of Gabon and no ward or stake was organized in the country. Gabin, now living in Gabon, had no local priesthood leader. The Belgian government was not prepared to issue a missionary visa due to the expiration of the student visa. Finally, a decision was made to cancel his mission call. Gabin was home to stay.
He moved in with his older brother, and during that year, found a job as an electronics technician in a local business. The dreams of his higher education were beginning to come true.
With no organized Church unit in Libreville, Gabin held unofficial meetings on Sundays and family home evenings on Mondays at his home. Some friends and a few family members attended with interest. Gabin would teach from the Book of Mormon and they would watch 2004 general conference sessions.
Throughout this time, Internet services inside Gabon were unreliable and costly—and accessing websites outside the country was almost impossible. From time to time, Gabin was able to access Church websites and download a general conference talk or two. These he would print out and add to his Sunday “lesson plans”.
In 2008, he met Fleur and fell deeply in love. Gabin remembers, “I found a girl!” Fleur had a daughter, Eve, and he fell in love with her, too. Fleur and Eve usually attended a local Protestant congregation, but throughout their courtship, he taught them missionary lessons. They started attending his Sunday meetings and family home evenings on Mondays. Gabin and Fleur were married in 2013 in a civil ceremony.
At the beginning of 2014, Gabin found an article online reporting that Elder David A. Bednar, of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, had a few months earlier been in Libreville. It was just after the Gabonese government had officially recognized the Church and had permitted the beginning of missionary activities. Elder Bednar had dedicated the country of Gabon for the preaching of the gospel and he had organized the Libreville Branch. Gabin was stunned. For more than eight years he had likely been the only endowed member of the Church living in Gabon and suddenly there was a branch organized in his home city.
Using an email address found in the article, Gabin wrote to the Africa Southeast Area office, asking questions about the Church situation in Libreville. Elie Monga, president of the Brazzaville mission in the Republic of Congo, was informed and a few days later, while at work, Gabin received a visit from Elder Michael Moody, the first senior missionary to serve in Gabon.
After their initial greeting, Gabin said to Elder Moody, “I have a few questions. First, where can I pay my tithing?” For more than eight years, Gabin had carefully kept his tithing money in a small box.
“Second,” he asked, “Where can I buy new temple garments? Eight years ago, I brought a few to Libreville, and every night since I have been carefully hand washing them.” Elder Moody went to the car, opened his suitcase, and gave Gabin a brand-new pair of garments that he had been prompted to pack in his travel case that morning.
The next Sunday, Gabin, Fleur, Eve, Gabin’s nephew Yann, plus Annaïck and Pauline, Fleur’s nieces were six of the ten people sitting in the Libreville Branch sacrament meeting. Fleur was taught the missionary lessons and shortly afterward was baptized and confirmed a member of the Church. And so were Eve, Yann, Annaïck, and Pauline.
In 2015, Gabin adopted Eve. And later that year the three of them—Gabin, Fleur, and Eve—flew to Johannesburg, South Africa, where this unlikely story concludes with significant eternal consequences. Fleur received her endowment, she and Gabin were sealed together, and Eve was sealed to them both in the Johannesburg South Africa Temple.
In 2016, Elie Monga, president of the Republic of Congo Brazzaville Mission, travelled to Libreville to preside over a division of the Libreville Branch. Gabin Mendene was called to serve as president of the Libreville 2nd Branch. Shortly afterward, while attending district conference, Elder Kevin S. Hamilton—former Brussels Belgium mission president and now a General Authority Seventy and president of the Africa Southeast Area—looked out from his seat on the rostrum. And sitting there in the middle of the congregation was someone he had not seen in ten years—a patient man with an extraordinary conversion story and a church pioneer in Africa—Gabin from Gabon.

I had an experience like yours. I wanted so much to be able to tell the bishop, but I thought he would have little respect for me as a member of his ward. I prayed about it for a long time. I was finally comforted enough by the Spirit to be able to tell the bishop about my problem. After I told him what I had done, he let me know that what I had done was wrong but that he still loved me and so does my Heavenly Father. He let me know that there is a way back and that is by repentance. Repentance is such a wonderful process. I beg you to give it a try. The Lord is waiting for you!

Name withheld

I was born in Weonju, South Korea, sometime in 1958 and was later adopted by an American family. When I was fourteen, I joined the Church. A year later, concerned about what to do after high school, I decided to obtain my patriarchal blessing. I first talked to the patriarch, who advised me to fast and pray about the things I wanted to know. I did, and later received my blessing with good feelings about the promises in it. But one section puzzled me:
“You will have the great privilege of performing work for and in behalf of your family, the parents you have not known. If you will search for your family records, help will come from on high; the heavens will respond to your prayers if you fast and pray and if you will be faithful in giving of your time and talents.”
I knew I needed to do my genealogy work, but I couldn’t understand the part about “the parents you have not known.” I had no idea who my natural parents were or how to find out. As far as I knew, I was an orphan when I was adopted.
During my last semester in college, after sincere prayer and soul searching, I felt strongly impressed to serve a mission. I completed my missionary application and sent in my papers, but worried that I would be called to go to Korea. I did not particularly want to go there. A few weeks passed, and the call came to the “Korea Seoul West Mission.”
I struggled with accepting my call, but as the time drew near, I thought of the promise in my patriarchal blessing. How else could I do my genealogy work? I had to go to Korea.
After arriving at the mission home in Korea, one of the first questions the mission president asked me was, “Do you plan to do some of your genealogy work while you’re here?” Surprised and encouraged by his question, I answered, “Yes, I want to.”

My mother and my friend’s mother take turns driving us to school. One morning, my friend’s mother began asking questions about my religion and about our beliefs about the afterlife. I was surprised that she asked me, and I was a little scared because I hadn’t learned a lot about it.
As I began to talk, I remembered a seminary poster that was on the wall in my Primary room at church. It was about the veil between premortal life, mortality, and the spirit world. I told everything I could remember about the plan of salvation. My friend’s mother was impressed at the things I knew about my religion. I am grateful that the Lord gives me missionary moments.

Aaron’s experience at Sinai reminds me of a similar experience I had as the leader of a small group of men in my army platoon at Fort Ord, California.

Our platoon was preparing for a special inspection; after cleaning the barracks, the men went outside to clean their gear. The platoon sergeant called the four squad leaders into the barracks where he noted a few tasks that still needed to be completed. He told me to call some of my men in to do these jobs. So I opened a window and called out to three men in my squad, “Sergeant Carrington wants you to come in and do some more work!”

As I turned around, Sergeant Carrington asked, “What did you tell your men?”

“I told them you wanted them to come in and do some more work.”

“No,” he said, “I told you to call your men in to do the work. You know what to do.” In Sergeant Carrington’s language, “You know what to do” was an order to do one hundred pushups, right then.

I was frustrated and embarrassed at the time; but after a few hours, I began to appreciate what he was teaching me. I was the men’s squad leader, and I had the authority to order them into the barracks to do their jobs. Instead I had used Sergeant Carrington’s name and authority to try and impress the men to do their work.

My mom told my brother and me that if we would read two issues of the Friend from cover to cover she would let us pick something from our school book order. I read the November and December 2005 issues. When I was looking through the book order to choose a book, I saw some Christmas books that I knew my little sister Emmalie would like. Christmas was just a few weeks away. I asked my mom if I could choose those books and give them to my sister for Christmas. My mom said that would be very generous and something that Jesus would do. It felt good to see my sister’s face when she unwrapped her books on Christmas. I made someone else happy, and I think that’s what Jesus would do.

A true story from the Philippines.
Shia took a deep breath and tried to focus. She could do this. She let the shuttlecock drop from her hand, swung with her racket, and …
Plonk!
The shuttlecock hit the floor right in front of her toes.
Shia huffed and frowned. She missed. Again.
Dad jogged over from the side of the badminton court. “Good try! Maybe bend your wrist more next time you serve.”
“Serving is so hard!” Shia said. She looked over at the other court where her cousins, Analyn and Jovan, were playing. The shuttlecock flew over the net as they took turns hitting it with their rackets. They made it look easy!
Dad put a hand on her shoulder. “You’ll improve at badminton. It just takes some practice.”
“But I want to be good now,” Shia said.
Dad smiled. “Maybe your team practice tomorrow will go better.”
But the next day, team practice was not better. Shia missed the shuttlecock more times than she hit it. She couldn’t serve it over the net. And during break, she tripped and spilled water all over her uniform.
Layla, the team captain, pointed at her wet shirt and laughed. “You’re so clumsy, Shia!”
Shia felt her cheeks get hot. Then her coach called everyone over to the court.
“All right, everyone, the tournament is in just a few weeks. Everyone partner up!”
Analyn tapped Shia on the shoulder. “We can be partners. I’ll help you practice.”
Layla laughed. “Shia’s the weakest on the team! You’re never going to win if she’s your partner.”
Shia looked at her feet. Layla was right. She was the weakest on the team, and she wasn’t sure if she’d ever get better.
When Shia got home, Mom was making chicken adobo on the stove. Her baby brother, Tolome, was crying and holding Mom’s leg.
Mom looked relieved to see Shia. “Oh good, you’re home! Can you take Tolome and play with him while I finish dinner?”
Shia didn’t feel like playing right now. But Tolome looked so sad! Shia scooped him up. Tolome kept crying.
Shia set him on the floor and pulled out some craft paper from the cabinet. Quietly, she started folding an origami cat.
Tolome watched her, and slowly, he calmed down. Shia finished the cat and held it up. “Meow!”
Tolome giggled. Shia gave him the origami cat and started folding paper cranes, rabbits, and turtles for them to play with.
“What a good helper you are!”
Shia turned around and saw Mom smiling. “Thank you for helping me today. That was very Christlike of you,” Mom said.
“I’m glad I could help.” Shia looked at how happy Tolome was and felt warm inside. Even if she was terrible at serving the shuttlecock in badminton, maybe she could try really hard to be the best at serving her family.
Over the next few weeks, Shia tried to get better at serving—on the court and at home. She practiced every day after school on the badminton court. She helped Mom with Tolome after practice at home. And she prayed that Heavenly Father would help her prepare for her tournament.
When the day of the tournament came, Shia was so nervous! She and Analyn walked onto the court. Mom, Dad, and Tolome waved from the bleachers. When it was her turn to serve, Shia took a deep breath. She could do this.
Shia let the shuttlecock drop from her hand, swung with her racket, and …
Whack!
It went over the net! She heard Dad cheer. She did it!
Maybe serving wasn’t so hard after all.
Illustrations by Beatrice Costamagna. May be copied for Church use only.

It was one year ago today, in a solemn assembly, that we had the privilege of raising our hands to sustain the authorities of the Church, much as we have done this morning. It was on that April morning that I heard my name read as one presented for your sustaining vote as a member of the Quorum of Twelve Apostles. It became my obligation to stand with those other living men who have been called as special witnesses of the Lord Jesus Christ upon the earth.
You must have wondered, as I did, why this call should come to me. It seemed accidental at times, that I was preserved in worthiness, yet there was always the constant, quiet, lingering feeling about being guided and being prepared.
It has been our privilege this morning to raise our hands to sustain the President of the Church. I count that a great privilege and special obligation, for I have a witness about him.
Some weeks before the meeting of last April, I left the office one Friday afternoon thinking of the weekend conference assignment. I waited for the elevator to come down from the fifth floor.
As the elevator doors quietly opened, there stood President Joseph Fielding Smith. There was a moment of surprise in seeing him, since his office is on a lower floor.
As I saw him framed in the doorway, there fell upon me a powerful witness—there stands the prophet of God. That sweet voice of Spirit that is akin to light, that has something to do with pure intelligence, affirmed to me that this was the prophet of God.
I need not try to define that experience to Latter-day Saints. That kind of witness is characteristic of this church. It is not something reserved to those in high office. It is a witness, not only available but vital, to every member.
As it is with the President, so it is with his counselors.
North of us in the Wasatch Range stand three mountain peaks. The poet would describe them as mighty pyramids of stone. The center one, the highest of the three, the map would tell you is Willard Peak. But the pioneers called them “The Presidency.” If you should go to Willard, look to the east, and up, way up, there stands “The Presidency.”
Thank God for the presidency. Like those peaks, they stand with nothing above them but the heavens. They need our sustaining vote. It is sometimes lonely in those lofty callings of leadership—for their calling is not to please man, but to please the Lord. God bless these three great and good men.
Occasionally during the past year I have been asked a question. Usually it comes as a curious, almost an idle, question about the qualifications to stand as a witness for Christ. The question they ask is, “Have you seen Him?”
That is a question that I have never asked of another. I have not asked that question of my brethren in the Quorum, thinking that it would be so sacred and so personal that one would have to have some special inspiration, indeed, some authorization, even to ask it.
There are some things just too sacred to discuss. We know that as it relates to the temples. In our temples, sacred ordinances are performed; sacred experiences are enjoyed. And yet we do not, because of the nature of them, discuss them outside those sacred walls.
It is not that they are secret, but they are sacred; not to be discussed, but to be harbored and to be protected and regarded with the deepest of reverence.
I have come to know what the prophet Alma meant:
“… It is given unto many to know the mysteries of God; nevertheless they are laid under a strict command that they shall not impart only according to the portion of his word which he doth grant unto the children of men, according to the heed and diligence which they give unto him.
“And therefore, he that will harden his heart, the same receiveth the lesser portion of the word; and he that will not harden his heart, to him is given the greater portion of the word, until it is given unto him to know the mysteries of God until he know them in full.” (Alma 12:9–10.)
There are those who hear testimonies borne in the Church, by those in high station and by members in the wards and branches, all using the same words—“I know that God lives; I know that Jesus is the Christ,” and come to question, “Why cannot it be said in plainer words? Why aren’t they more explicit and more descriptive? Cannot the apostles say more?”
How like the sacred experience in the temple becomes our personal testimony. It is sacred, and when we are wont to put it into words, we say it in the same way—all using the same words. The apostles declare it in the same phrases with the little Primary or Sunday School youngster. “I know that God lives and I know that Jesus is the Christ.”
We would do well not to disregard the testimonies of the prophets or of the children, for “he imparteth his words by angels unto men, yea, not only men but women also. Now this is not all; little children do have words given unto them many times which confound the wise and the learned.” (Alma 32:23.)
Some seek for a witness to be given in some new and dramatic and different way.
The bearing of a testimony is akin to a declaration of love. The romantics and poets and couples in love, from the beginning of time, have sought more impressive ways of saying it, or singing it, or writing it. They have used all of the adjectives, all of the superlatives, all manner of poetic expression. And when all is said and done, the declaration which is most powerful is the simple, three-word variety.
To one who is honestly seeking, the testimony borne in these simple phrases is enough, for it is the spirit that beareth record, not the words.
There is a power of communication as real and tangible as electricity. Man has devised the means to send images and sound through the air to be caught on an antenna and reproduced and heard and seen. This other communication may be likened to that, save it be a million times more powerful, and the witness it brings is always the truth.
There is a process by which pure intelligence can flow, by which we can come to know of a surety, nothing doubting.
I said there was a question that could not be taken lightly nor answered at all without the prompting of the Spirit. I have not asked that question of others, but I have heard them answer it—but not when they were asked. They have answered it under the prompting of the Spirit, on sacred occasions, when “the Spirit beareth record.” (D&C 1:39.)
I have heard one of my brethren declare: “I know from experiences, too sacred to relate, that Jesus is the Christ.”
I have heard another testify: “I know that God lives; I know that the Lord lives. And more than that, I know the Lord.”
It was not their words that held the meaning or the power. It was the Spirit. “… for when a man speaketh by the power of the Holy Ghost the power of the Holy Ghost carrieth it unto the hearts of the children of men.” (2 Ne. 33:1.)
I speak upon this subject in humility, with the constant feeling that I am the least in every way of those who are called to this holy office.
I have come to know that the witness does not come by seeking after signs. It comes through fasting and prayer, through activity and testing and obedience. It comes through sustaining the servants of the Lord and following them.
Karl G. Maeser was taking a group of missionaries across the Alps. As they reached a summit, he stopped. Gesturing back down the trail to some poles set in the snow to mark the way across the glacier, he said, “Brethren, there stands the Priesthood. They are just common sticks like the rest of us … but the position they hold makes them what they are to us. If we step aside from the path they mark, we are lost.”
The witness depends upon sustaining his servants as we have done here in sign and as we should do in action.
Now, I wonder with you why one such as I should be called to the holy apostleship. There are so many qualifications that I lack. There is so much in my effort to serve that is wanting. As I have pondered on it, I have come to only one single thing, one qualification in which there may be cause, and that is, I have that witness.
I declare to you that I know that Jesus is the Christ. I know that he lives. He was born in the meridian of time. He taught his gospel, was tried, was crucified. He rose on the third day. He was the first fruits of the resurrection. He has a body of flesh and bone. Of this I bear testimony. Of him I am a witness. In the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Outside it was foggy and drizzly. But Juliana J. of Hatchet Lake, Nova Scotia, Canada, didn’t mind. She was feeling very warm inside as she and her family walked around the Halifax Nova Scotia Temple. She had just finished doing baptisms for the dead for her first time.
Going to the temple was actually the main reason Juliana had been excited to turn 12. Her older sisters and brother had been telling her about it for a long time, and she couldn’t wait to feel the Spirit there for herself.
But when her 12th birthday came, Juliana and her family were on vacation. When they stopped to see the Salt Lake Temple, she didn’t have her recommend yet, so she couldn’t go inside. Big disappointment!
On her first Sunday back home, Juliana made sure she had her recommend interview with her bishop. Then she had to wait a few more weeks until it was her ward’s Mutual temple visit.
Finally, the special day came. Juliana got dressed in her Sunday clothes. Her oldest sister helped by braiding Juliana’s long hair. Juliana’s family went with her to the temple. “She was so excited, she was vibrating!” her mom said.
Afterward, Juliana and her family walked around the temple together taking pictures. That’s a family tradition, come rain or snow. It’s a tradition that Juliana looks forward to repeating many more times.

My Uncle Jim was my favorite uncle. He was everyone’s friend. He hid pennies around his apartment for me to find. Every Sunday I would call him on the phone. He always had time to listen. I told him all about what I had learned in Primary, at school—just about anything. He sent me hand-knitted doll clothes his neighbor had made. I wanted to send him back something special. It took me a long time to figure out what, but then I knew exactly what to send—an invitation to my baptism with my CTR ring.
A few days before my baptism, my Uncle Jim died. I cried all night. I didn’t want to be baptized without Uncle Jim, but my mother told me he would want me to be baptized. She said that it would be the greatest gift I could ever give him. I was baptized the day before his funeral. At his funeral I wore my white baptism dress and decorated his grave with white roses. I cried a lot, but my mother reminded me that Jesus also cried. It says so in the scriptures. I guess if Jesus cries, too, He must really understand it when I cry.
The next day my mother went to Uncle Jim’s apartment to clear things out. Tacked to his wall was a picture of me with my CTR ring taped beside it.Kelly Hoag, age 9Portola, California

Another White House gift became a matter of life and death to young Tad Lincoln. A friend of President Lincoln’s, a successful turkey grower, sent one of his best gobblers to be served for a White House Christmas dinner. Tad quickly made friends with the handsome bird and named him Jack. The two of them spent many hours racing around the White House grounds. Finally, when it came time for the turkey to be readied for the holiday feast, Tad would not hear of such a thing.
“Father, you can’t let anyone kill Jack,” the boy pleaded. “He’s my friend!”
“But if we do not serve him for Christmas dinner, I might offend the man who gave us the turkey.”
“Then I’ll talk to him. I’ll tell him Jack is my friend and that I want him to live.”
President Lincoln nodded, gently resting a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Then Jack will be spared,” his father agreed. “A good friend is worth far more than a good dinner.”

Initially, I hesitated to re-engage with the Church, but I overcame my doubts with my ward’s genuine love and support. I especially appreciated my brothers and sisters in the gospel who ministered to me with love. Their teachings awakened a testimony within me that I now share with others. I have shared the knowledge of the gospel with my friends, and they have been baptized and now serve in the Church and the temple. I believe the greatest gift one can give another person is a testimony of Jesus Christ because it brings light into our lives.

Mariela came home from school with a frown on her face. “What’s wrong?” Mom asked as she planted flowers in the garden.
“Sonia promised she would play with me, and then she didn’t,” Mariela said. She plopped down in the dirt next to Mom.
“I’m so sorry,” Mom said. “It’s important to keep promises. Next week when you are baptized and confirmed, you will make some very important promises called covenants.”
“Really?” Mariela asked. She was excited to be baptized.
Mom put some yellow flowers in the ground. “You promise to obey the commandments. You also promise to take the name of Jesus Christ upon you. What does Heavenly Father promise if you do these things?”
Mariela thought about what she was learning in Primary. “That I’ll have the Holy Ghost with me.”
“That’s right,” Mom said. “You’ll also become a member of Jesus’s Church. How can you keep your promise to obey the commandments?”
“I can be kind, and I can tell the truth,” Mariela said. “What does it mean to take Jesus’s name upon me?”
“It means that you try to be like Him and do what He would want you to do,” Mom said. “What can you do to be like Jesus?”
Mariela twirled a purple flower between her fingers. “I can sit with the new girl at school. And I can try to be nice to Sonia,” she said.
“Those are great ideas,” Mom said. “And when you take the sacrament, you can remember your promises.”
Mariela smiled. “I know another promise—to water the flowers so we can have a beautiful garden!”

Photographs by Christina Smith
I thought I was going for a short weekend trip to visit my family during a brother’s wedding. But when my wife, Etelani, dropped me off at the airport, handed me a packed suitcase, and told me to stay with my parents until I was ready to be a husband, I knew things had become serious. I would have to make drastic changes in my life.
As I watched her drive away, little did I know how much she hurt. She told me later that she then drove to a safe place to park along the road, where she sobbed. I hadn’t realized how much my behavior—drinking and doing drugs—was hurting her, and I didn’t realize how much it was hurting me.
We both grew up in Samoa, where we met. My family joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints when I was in high school. But the commandments got in the way of my lifestyle and the parties I liked to attend. By the time the other members of my family were sealed in the temple, I was not active in the Church and made every excuse to stay away from Church activities.
After Etelani and I got married, we moved to Seattle, Washington, where my family lived. Then we moved away from them to Utah. There, Etelani tried desperately to help me change my ways.
Often, I would be gone for a week or two at a time drinking and partying while she remained at home, not knowing where I was. She hurt deeply, realizing she could not change me. These were dark and painful days for her. She became despondent, riddled with pangs of insecurity. She wondered if my unruly actions stemmed from her inability to bear children.
“If we are meant to stay together,” she prayed to Heavenly Father, “then please help me know what to do.”
The Spirit prompted her to act when my parents called to announce that one of my brothers was getting married. The day Etelani dropped me off at the airport, she said, “I think this is a good time for us to be separated.” As it turned out, it was 10 months before we got back together.
My parents and siblings were active members of the Church. My mother was strong in her testimony and was aware of my situation. During the 10 months I lived with my parents, she gave me kind and gentle invitations to join the family at church and church activities, and she reminded me of the importance of being sealed to Etelani in the temple. Those simple invitations, and being surrounded by my family’s love, helped me return to church.
While Etelani was in Utah, working overtime hours to distract her from her sadness, I was undergoing a transformation brought about by my mother’s love and the Savior’s atoning grace.
I had tried many times over the years to kick my bad habits, but I never could. In the past, I had used every excuse to stay away from church, but now as I confronted the loss of my wife, I knew I had to change.
Change wasn’t easy. “Who am I to be saved?” I wondered. In the past, I had tried to change by myself. Alone, I couldn’t beat my habits, but with help from Heavenly Father and His Son, along with the scriptures, fasting and prayer, the sacrament, and repentance, I knew I could change. Becoming involved in the Church and exercising faith in Jesus Christ changed my heart and my way of thinking (see Mosiah 5:7; Alma 5:12–13). I soon found that I could do things I couldn’t do before.
With steadiness, over time I came to feel the Savior’s mercy. He was aware of Etelani and me. I felt that He loved us. His love changed my appetites. I no longer obsessed over past indulgences. When I finally had a testimony of the gospel, I wanted to be with Etelani again.
When she saw that I held a steady job and had saved money for a place to live, she joined me in Seattle. She still wanted us. After I had demonstrated that my devotion to her and the gospel was real, we adopted a daughter. Having a child helped me commit to the changes I had made. I knew I had to be a good father for her. I liked where I was heading, and I wanted to take my family with me. I was sealed to my parents. Etelani and I adopted a son. And we have been sealed in the temple as a family. God has been good to us.
Tony with his son, Tony Jr.
Having gone through the refiner’s fire, I know from firsthand experience that the Savior can change us. But first, we must get close to Him. You’ll be amazed at what He can do. Feeling His divine love can lead to sincere repentance, and that can change you—no matter how far you have fallen.
I’m grateful for a second chance. I’m grateful for the gospel. I’m grateful the Savior brought me back. And I’m grateful He helped me become a better husband to my wife and father to my children.
If we have faith in the Savior and trust in Him, we will be surprised at the changes He can make in us.
Tony remains grateful the Lord helped him become a better husband to his wife, Etelani, and father to his children, Tony Jr. and Prelain.

In March of 2003, one of my good friends, Bret, invited me to help with his Eagle Scout project. After school the next day we drove in his truck with another friend of ours, Camden, to where the project would be. Inspired by the Spirit, Bret directed Camden to a Book of Mormon situated in a holder in the passenger-side door. He told him to open to a verse he had recently read in the Book of Alma. My interest was sparked, and for the first time, I saw the book I wanted so very badly. However, I was too scared to say anything right then. Upon returning that evening, I worked up the confidence to ask Bret for the book. He happily gave it to me and told me to read it. That night I read nine chapters. From the moment I picked up the book, I fell in love with its message.

It was a lazy day in August. The sun was hot, and Tommy and Elija were lying on the ground near the creek, enjoying the shade of a big cottonwood tree. They had been assigned to watch the thirty head of cattle, which were grazing a half mile upstream.
“Herding cattle might be important,” said Tommy, “but it isn’t very exciting.”
Just then the cattle started to low. The boys heard them moving around as if they were frightened. “Something is bothering them,” said Elija. “Let’s see what it is.”
In a moment the two boys were running toward the cattle, but they stopped short when they saw a small band of Indians coming toward them. They had no way of knowing whether or not they were friendly. But Tommy knew that the Omaha Indians had given the Mormon pioneers permission to camp on their land for the winter and to use their water and their timber.
When the boys came within talking distance, a young Indian stepped forward and spoke to them in halting English. “Last night our enemies, the Iowas, attacked our camp. All of our men except Chief Big Head and I were on a hunting trip. The Iowas took our horses and all of our food. They wounded many women and children. Chief Big Head they left for dead. He will die if he does not get help.”
Tommy looked down on the willow bed that the Indians had made for their chief. What he saw made him want to close his eyes.
“I’ll go for help,” he said.
“I’ll go with you,” said Elija.
The young Indian put his arm across Elija’s chest to keep him from going. “You stay here till boy gets back.”
Tommy knew that Elija’s safety depended on his speedy return, so he ran almost all of the two miles to Winter Quarters.
He went at once to the home of his bishop and told him what had happened. “The Indians really need help,” he concluded, “and they’re keeping Elija with them to make sure I bring some back.”
Bishop Morley listened quietly; then he put his arm around the boy to comfort him while he thought about what to do. “We must find Brigham Young,” he decided. “He might be down at the ferry. You take my horse and ride down there as fast as you can. In the meantime I will look around here.”
The ferry was twelve miles away, and it took Tommy an hour to get there. When he arrived, he found Brigham Young and told him his story.
“We will help the Indians, of course,” Brigham Young said, “but our first concern is for Elija. You must get back to him as soon as possible. Take your wagon and ask Bishop Morley to take his. These two wagons should be enough to bring the badly wounded to Winter Quarters. I’ll meet you at my house.”
Bishop Morley was waiting for Tommy. They took the two wagons and went to get Elija and the Indians.
When they came to the small sad camp, Elija ran up and began talking to Tommy. “At first they were afraid I would run away,” said Elija, “but when I took off my shirt and wet it in the creek so I could cool the forehead of Chief Big Head, they knew I could be trusted.”
“I’m so glad you are all right,” Tommy said.
Bishop Morley and the young Indian helped Chief Big Head into Tommy’s wagon, and the boys started back to Winter Quarters. The other Indians who were badly wounded were put into the Morley wagon. The rest of the Indians walked beside it.
The sun was almost setting when the wagons arrived at the home of Brigham Young. He soon determined that the Indian chief would need special care. He turned to Tommy and said, “Please go and ask your mother if she could take Chief Big Head into her home and nurse him back to health.”
Tommy was off in a flash. He returned in a few minutes with his mother, who said, “Of course, I’ll take care of him.”
Brigham Young smiled and said, “You won’t be sorry. An Indian never forgets a kindness.”
The weeks that followed were anxious ones for Tommy and his mother. Chief Big Head was very sick and needed constant care. Either Tommy or his mother stayed day and night by his side. Then one day, without any warning, the Indian got out of bed. “Chief Big Head well,” he declared. “I must go to my people.”
That night he left Winter Quarters and took with him all of the Indians who had been staying there.
Sometime after this, Tommy was so sick with black canker that his mother was afraid he was not going to get well. Unexpectedly, Chief Big Head came to their door and handed Tommy’s mother some horseradish. “Grind this,” he said, “and make tea for boy. Tea will make him well.” Without even waiting to be thanked, the Indian turned and was soon out of sight.
The horseradish did help Tommy. Afterwards, many who had black canker, a form of scurvy, were given horseradish tea as medicine, and it helped to save their lives too.
“Chief Big Head didn’t forget, did he, Mother,” Tommy asked one day.
And his mother answered, “No, Tommy, and neither will we.”

A true story from the USA.
Lucas and Lexi are brother and sister. They like to work and play together.
Lucas is blind. This means he can’t see well. Lexi has a clubfoot. This means her foot is twisted, and it’s hard to walk. Lucas helps Lexi walk when her legs get tired. Lexi reads to Lucas when his eyes get tired. They like to help each other.
Lucas and Lexi like playing on the playground. Lucas helps Lexi if she trips and falls. Lexi helps Lucas if he can’t find the monkey bars.
Lucas and Lexi like playing board games. Lexi reads the rules to Lucas. Lucas helps Lexi figure out her next move.
Lucas and Lexi like music. Lucas likes to play the piano. Lexi likes to sing. Sometimes Lucas plays the piano while Lexi sings.
Lucas and Lexi like helping each other. Lucas sometimes helps Lexi make her bed. Lexi sometimes helps Lucas pick up his toys.
Lucas and Lexi like reading scripture stories. They like learning about Jesus Christ and how He helped others. Jesus loved those He helped.
Lucas loves helping Lexi, and Lexi loves helping Lucas. They love Jesus Christ and want to be like Him. Jesus loves Lucas and Lexi. He loves that they help each other.
Watch a video about this story here!
Illustrations by Natalie Briscoe

Marta dug a hole in the dirt. She put a tomato plant in the hole and patted the dirt around it. Then she planted some round onions. Next, Marta carefully put watermelon seeds in the dirt.
Marta gave the garden water every day. Finally the garden was ready. Mom picked tomatoes. Marta pulled onions out of the ground. Dad carried a watermelon into the kitchen. Mom used the tomatoes and onions to make sauce for spaghetti. Dad cut the watermelon into sweet, juicy pieces. Marta said, “My favorite foods are the ones we grow!”

A pleasant young man in his early 20s sat across from me. He had an engaging smile, although he didn’t smile often during our talk. What drew me in was the pain in his eyes.
“I don’t know if I should remain a member of the Church,” he said. “I don’t think I’m worthy.”
“Why wouldn’t you be worthy?” I asked.
“I’m gay.”
I suppose he thought I would be startled. I wasn’t. “And … ?” I inquired.
A flicker of relief crossed his face as he sensed my continued interest. “I’m not attracted to women. I’m attracted to men. I’ve tried to ignore these feelings or change them, but …”
He sighed. “Why am I this way? The feelings are very real.”
I paused, then said, “I need a little more information before advising you. You see, same-gender attraction is not a sin, but acting on those feelings is—just as it would be with heterosexual feelings. Do you violate the law of chastity?”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t.”
This time I was relieved. “Thank you for wanting to deal with this,” I said. “It takes courage to talk about it, and I honor you for keeping yourself clean.
“As for why you feel as you do, I can’t answer that question. A number of factors may be involved, and they can be as different as people are different. Some things, including the cause of your feelings, we may never know in this life. But knowing why you feel as you do isn’t as important as knowing you have not transgressed. If your life is in harmony with the commandments, then you are worthy to serve in the Church, enjoy full fellowship with the members, attend the temple, and receive all the blessings of the Savior’s Atonement.”
He sat up a little straighter. I continued, “You serve yourself poorly when you identify yourself primarily by your sexual feelings. That isn’t your only characteristic, so don’t give it disproportionate attention. You are first and foremost a son of God, and He loves you.
“What’s more, I love you. My Brethren among the General Authorities love you. I’m reminded of a comment President Boyd K. Packer made in speaking to those with same-gender attraction. ‘We do not reject you,’ he said. ‘… We cannot reject you, for you are the sons and daughters of God. We will not reject you, because we love you.’”
We talked for another 30 minutes or so. Knowing I could not be a personal counselor to him, I directed him to his local priesthood leaders. Then we parted. I thought I detected a look of hope in his eyes that had not been there before. Although he yet faced challenges to work through—or simply endure—I had a feeling he would handle them well.

We need not worry about knowing the right thing to say or do when we get there. The love of God and the Holy Spirit may be enough. When I was a young man I feared that I would not know what to do or to say to people in great need.

Once I was at the hospital bedside of my father as he seemed near death. I heard a commotion among the nurses in the hallway. Suddenly, President Spencer W. Kimball walked into the room and sat in a chair on the opposite side of the bed from me. I thought to myself, “Now here is my chance to watch and listen to a master at going to those in pain and suffering.”

President Kimball said a few words of greeting, asked my father if he had received a priesthood blessing, and then, when Dad said that he had, the prophet sat back in his chair.

I waited for a demonstration of the comforting skills I felt I lacked and so much needed. After perhaps five minutes of watching the two of them simply smiling silently at each other, I saw President Kimball rise and say, “Henry, I think I’ll go before we tire you.”

I thought I had missed the lesson, but it came later. In a quiet moment with Dad after he recovered enough to go home, our conversation turned to the visit by President Kimball. Dad said quietly, “Of all the visits I had, that visit I had from him lifted my spirits the most.”

President Kimball didn’t speak many words of comfort, at least that I could hear, but he went with the Spirit of the Lord as his companion to give the comfort. I realize now that he was demonstrating the lesson President Monson taught: “How does one magnify a calling? Simply by performing the service that pertains to it.”