Gospel Story Finder

As I sat across from a member of the stake presidency, my heart started pounding. I had felt jumpy since the stake clerk had called to set an appointment. Would he know I was not worthy to serve?

I had decided that some sins would be easier to take to the judgment bar of God than to reveal here on earth, thinking it would be selfish to disclose things that would bring pain or embarrassment to my wife. Better to overcome them by myself and live with the burden. The only problem was that I couldn’t overcome them on my own.

I sat there as the counselor in the stake presidency extended a call to serve. He asked, “Brother, would you accept this calling?” How I wanted to shout, “Yes!” Instead, almost involuntarily, I heard myself say, “I cannot; I need to clear up some sins.”

Anxiety and relief poured into me simultaneously as I confessed the general nature of the sin. He asked if I had spoken with my bishop. “No.” My wife? “No.” He shook my hand, smiled, told me he was proud of me for confessing, and directed me to talk with the bishop and my wife.

I obeyed, telling my wife first—thereby eliminating my biggest fear. She still loved me! Yes, she was upset, and we would have to work out some things, but she loved me and encouraged me to visit the bishop.

When I went to see the bishop, he immediately welcomed me into his office. With difficulty, I tried to articulate why I was there. After hiding my sins so long, I hardly knew where to start. He lovingly encouraged me to come clean. I explained the general nature of my sins and asked for time to provide the full inventory of my misdeeds. He readily agreed.

I still had yet to fully confess, but I felt the weight of the world lifting from my shoulders. I also felt a renewed hope of freedom, finally, from this burden.

I spent the next weeks praying, reading the scriptures, and creating my inventory to present to both my bishop and my Heavenly Father. First I took my list to Heavenly Father, with a broken heart and a contrite spirit, to let Him know I was sorry and sincerely desired to change. I set another appointment with the bishop and shared my list in its entirety. He didn’t frown, yell, or chastise me; instead, he gave me a big hug. He let me know of his love and the Lord’s love, informing me that I was now on the path of true repentance. I knew it was true.

Confessing my sins, formerly my biggest fear, became one of the most beautiful experiences of my life. It was the first step for me to truly understand the gift and the healing power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ.

I was 21 years old and part owner of a beauty salon. I taught a Primary class at church. My life was good, but I felt restless. It seemed that there was something else that I needed to be doing—I just didn’t know what.
My bishop called me into his office one Sunday and asked me if I had considered serving a mission. I was totally caught off guard. I had been a member of the Church for only two years and had never thought of serving a mission.
I told the bishop that I didn’t think a mission was right for me. As I was leaving his office, he said, “Well, if you change your mind, let me know.” I thought the topic was closed, but the bishop’s words continued to echo in my mind.
I asked myself how I could possibly serve a mission. I was the only member of the Church in my family. How would my family feel? What would I do with my share of the beauty salon? Could I handle serving for a year and a half?
As I pondered these questions, I was prompted to read the Book of Mormon. I picked it up and turned to the eighth chapter of Alma. As I read about Alma and Amulek embarking on their mission, I knew that I also needed “to declare the words of God” (verse 30). The next Sunday I told my bishop that I had changed my mind and I wanted to serve a mission.
My family was supportive, and I was able to sell my share of the beauty salon. I served in Caracas, Venezuela, and I continue to reap the blessings of having honorably served the Lord.

“I prayed with such a tiny seed of faith, and still I felt Their love.”
Theo’s dad is diabetic and has relied on a dialysis machine (a machine that cleans blood for those who have damaged kidneys) for the past 18 years. Growing up, it was hard for Theo to think of what the future might hold for his dad.
“When I was just starting high school, his health declined to the point where losing him became a very real possibility,” Theo says. “There was no stopping the fear and sadness of knowing that could happen.”
On top of this trial, Theo didn’t feel worthy enough to pray. “Church just wasn’t as important to me as it should be,” he says. “I didn’t think I was in the right mind-set.”
But when the day came that Theo thought his dad was ready to go, Theo felt a clear prompting that he needed to turn to God.
On the day he thought his father would die, Theo decided to get on his knees and pray. “I began that prayer not expecting a response. But instantly I felt comfort and strength.”
Today, Theo’s dad is still alive and defying all medical odds. Theo recognizes how big of a miracle that is, especially since a lot of people don’t survive illnesses like these. Most of all, he’s grateful he felt God’s love. “Heavenly Father and the Savior are so generous. I prayed with such a tiny seed of faith, and still I felt Their love.”

While serving in the Samoa Mission, Elders Brigham Smoot and Alva Butler were assigned to take the restored gospel to the islands of Tonga. Upon their arrival in 1891, they held an audience with King George Tupou I, who granted them permission to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ. With encouraging prospects, more missionaries were called to the islands and were anxiously engaged in spreading the gospel. Unfortunately, the growth of the Church was not as fruitful in Tonga as in the other Polynesian islands of Tahiti, Hawaii, New Zealand, and Samoa. In 1897 the missionaries were ordered to return to Samoa, and the few converts in Tonga were left without Church leadership for a time.
In 1891, Elders Brigham Smoot and Alva Butler met with King George Tupou I and received permission to preach the gospel among his people.
Meeting the king of Tonga by Clark Kelley Price © IRI
“Know ye not that I, the Lord your God, … remember those who are upon the isles of the sea?” (2 Nephi 29:7).
The Lord did not forget the Saints in the island kingdom of Tonga. In 1907, Elders Heber J. McKay and W. O. Facer arrived in Neiafu, Vava‘u, where they started a branch and a small school. Soon missionary work began to prosper, and several branches and Church schools were established throughout the islands over the next few years.
As in other parts of the world, the Church in Tonga had its share of opposition, but this time the gospel was here to stay. As missionary work flourished, Church leaders were called from among the local Tongan members so that when foreigners were evacuated, as during World War II, the Church could continue to thrive.
As the gospel spread throughout the islands, various Church schools were established. In 1947 the Church leased a large piece of land and began building a new school, Liahona College, now known as Liahona High School.
Dedicated in 1953 by Elder LeGrand Richards (1886–1983) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, it was to become a “guiding light” to all who would enter, and it was to prepare young people to become leaders and to influence others for good. Present also at the dedication was Queen Salote Tupou III, who endorsed the school as an instrument for building a “Christian civilization” that unites people of all walks of life. Since the school’s establishment, thousands of Liahona High School graduates have served as missionaries, Church leaders, and prominent community leaders.
Today there are two Church-sponsored high schools in Tonga: Liahona High School, on the main island of Tongatapu, and Saineha High School, on the island of Vava‘u. There are also five Church-sponsored middle schools: three in Tongatapu, one in ‘Eua, and one in Ha‘apai.
When President David O. McKay (1873–1970) and his wife, Emma Ray, visited Tonga in 1955, the Saints treated them like royalty. This was the first visit of a Church President to the islands. During their short visits to Tongatapu and Vava‘u, they held meetings with the members and felt of their love and devotion as Tongans performed music and dances and gave speeches and feasts. During President McKay’s visit to the Saints in Vava‘u, he was inspired to reveal that he had seen a vision of “a temple on one of these islands, where the members of the Church may go and receive the blessings of the temple of God.” One member recorded the Tongans’ response: “The entire congregation burst into tears.”1
Nearly 30 years later, in August 1983, the Nuku‘alofa Tonga Temple was dedicated by President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008), then a counselor in the First Presidency. I remember as a teenage girl how Latter-day Saints from the outer islands and Tongans from overseas came for the auspicious occasion. I was privileged to attend one of the dedicatory sessions and be part of the choir. I remember the warm feeling I felt when I heard President Hinckley speak, and I knew then that he was called of God. When we sang “Hosanna Anthem,” I understood too how much the Lord loves His children.
The Savior has always remembered the people on the isles of the sea, and on that day President McKay’s prophecy was fulfilled.
Because of the increasing Church growth in Tonga, the temple was closed for about two years for renovation. Among other work, rooms were enlarged, a sealing room was added, and Polynesian motifs were added to walls and ceilings.
At the beginning of 2007, my husband and I were called to produce a cultural celebration for the rededication of the temple. The event was to be held on November 3, a day before the rededication sessions.
Our aim was to involve as many youth as possible from the stakes in Tongatapu and to come up with a presentation that would spiritually prepare the Saints for the temple dedication the next day. The event would be broadcast and televised live to the outer islands as well as to Tongan stakes around the globe, so this was a mighty task.
The production was titled “The Treasure That Lasts.” It consisted of cultural dances from Tonga, Hawaii, Tahiti, New Zealand, Fiji, and Samoa. The story line was that of a couple who, having lost their young child, searched the many Polynesian islands for a treasure that would appease their loss. Although they found gifts at each island, none could soothe their pain. When they returned to Tonga, they were introduced to the gospel by missionaries and learned of “the treasure that lasts”—eternal families and the blessing of someday being reunited with their child who had passed away.
During the week of the rededication, it rained heavily. At our final rehearsal, on November 2, the skies were overcast. I asked the youth to return to their homes and pray for good weather so they would be able to perform for Tonga and for those who would be watching via satellite, especially the prophet. That night it rained hard, and the next morning the weather was still foreboding.
On Saturday evening, 3,000 young people gathered at Teufaiva Stadium to hear from Elder Russell M. Nelson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, who had been sent to rededicate the temple due to President Hinckley’s frail health. I will never forget the performance. Everything fell into place. The weather was perfect, the sound system that had malfunctioned earlier was excellent, and those young men and young women danced their hearts out.
We had witnessed a miracle. Heavenly Father heard the prayers of His children and kept the rain away. At the same time, we were able to set the tone for the temple dedication the next day, reminding members that eternal families are the treasure that lasts and that temples are built to bring such blessings to pass.
Today the Church continues to grow in Tonga, and leadership positions are held by native members. Chapels dot the islands, and the increase of missionaries is hastening the work. The Church schools are firmly established and continue to prepare valiant missionaries, future leaders, and worthy mothers and fathers.
The Saints are no longer required to make that long journey by boat to the main island for general conference. Instead, technology has enabled members to remain within their stakes to watch general conference and the area conferences broadcast from New Zealand.
Amid the turmoil of changes arriving on Tonga’s shores, the Saints continue their legacy of faith. They are a people who were committed to God 175 years ago. They are a people who today continue to dedicate their lives and all that they have to the Lord.

A true story from the USA.
Hi! I’m Bristol. Being a witness at my brother’s baptism was the BEST!
When I was baptized, I had two witnesses: my big sister and brother. A witness is someone who stands by the font to make sure the baptism is done the way Jesus Christ taught.
If you don’t go all the way under the water or the prayer is said wrong, the baptism has to be done again. At my baptism, my foot almost popped out of the water.
I was so nervous, but the witnesses were watching closely, and it turned out my foot didn’t come out of the water after all.
I was SO EXCITED when I found out I could be a witness too after I was baptized. My little brother Ryland got baptized a year after me. He asked me to be a witness!
I said yes (of course), but deep down, I was a little worried. I had so many questions! Where should I stand? What should I say?
You don’t have to worry, though! I asked all my questions, and I have advice for you:
There may be a mirror to help see inside the font. But you should watch the baptism, not the mirror. Stand close so you can see everything!
When the baptism is performed correctly, smile and nod your head. If you notice that the baptism needs to be done again, quietly tell the person performing the baptism.
Don’t be afraid to ask questions! When I was worried, I talked to my dad. He explained the whole thing to me.
I am so happy that I got to be a witness for my brother. Maybe one day you can be a witness too!

Amy and Becca lay wide awake in their beds. Amy counted stars out the window as they appeared one by one in the sky.
Becca sat up. “Amy,” she said, “I can’t sleep.”
“I know,” Amy said. “Me neither.”
“We forgot to say family prayer again tonight,” Becca whispered.
“I know,” Amy said. “Mommy forgot to tell us to brush our teeth too. I guess taking care of baby Eric makes Mommy forget things.”
“Yeah,” Becca agreed. “And Daddy is out of town, so he can’t remind us.”
“I have an idea,” Amy said. “Let’s look out for things that Mommy might forget.”
“OK,” Becca said. “Let’s call ourselves the Lookout Girls.”
“That’s a great name,” Amy said. “The Lookout Girls will start tomorrow!”
The next day the girls woke up early.
Amy jumped out of bed. “Don’t forget we need to make our beds before breakfast,” she said.
“OK,” Becca said.
The girls finished just in time to hear Mommy calling them to breakfast.
“Don’t forget, Becca. We need to wash our hands before we eat,” Amy said.
Amy and Becca washed up and started down the hallway. Amy noticed Becca’s skates on the floor.
“Don’t forget to pick up your skates before someone trips on them,” Amy reminded.
Becca picked up her skates and marched back to her room. “Amy sure is being bossy,” she mumbled.
After breakfast, Amy said, “Don’t forget to take your dishes to the sink, Becca.”
“OK,” Becca said, frowning.
“What’s the matter?” Amy asked. “I’m just trying to help you remember.”
“I know,” Becca said. “But you won’t let me remember anything!”
“I know you remember things,” Amy said. “I just think of them first. But don’t worry. You’ll get a turn.”
When it was time to go to the store, Amy and Becca climbed into the car and buckled their seat belts. Mommy buckled Eric into his car seat.
“Don’t forget to buckle your seat belt, Mommy,” Amy said.
Becca stared out the window.
When Mommy pulled into a parking spot, Amy jumped out of the car and started walking toward the store.
Becca called out, “Wait, Amy. Don’t forget to hold my hand and watch for cars.”
“Oops, I forgot,” Amy said, taking her sister’s hand. “Thanks, Becca. I’m glad you remembered.”
At bedtime, Becca said, “Don’t forget, Mommy. We need to say our family prayer.”
“And we need to brush our teeth,” Amy said.
“You girls haven’t let me forget a thing today,” Mommy said. “You sure have been helpful.”
The girls smiled at each other. “We did a good job,” Becca whispered.
“Yeah,” Amy said, putting her arm around her younger sister. “The Lookout Girls are a good team!”

Many households raised their own sheep, clipped the wool, prepared it for spinning, spun it, and then took it to a neighbor with a loom to weave it into linsey. The linsey was then cut and made into skirts, blouses, shirts, dresses, and men’s suits. Mary Julia Johnson stated that a young man who was leaving in one week on a mission had no suit to wear. When the women of the ward heard this, they went to work with the result that “one Sunday the wool was the sheep’s back, but by the next Sunday it had been clipped, cleansed, carded, spun, woven, and made into a splendid suit and was on the back of the missionary as he delivered his farewell address in our little church house.”

Just as God rejoices when we persevere, He is disappointed if we do not recognize that others are trying too. Our dear friend Thoba shared how she learned this lesson from her mother, Julia. Julia and Thoba were among the early black converts in South Africa. After the apartheid regime ended, black and white members of the Church were permitted to attend church together. For many, the equality of interaction between the races was new and challenging. One time, as Julia and Thoba attended church, they felt they were treated less than kindly by some white members. As they left, Thoba complained bitterly to her mother. Julia listened calmly until Thoba had vented her frustration. Then Julia said, “Oh, Thoba, the Church is like a big hospital, and we are all sick in our own way. We come to church to be helped.” Julia’s comment reflects a valuable insight. We must not only be tolerant while others work on their individual illnesses; we must also be kind, patient, supportive, and understanding. As God encourages us to keep on trying, He expects us to also allow others the space to do the same, at their own pace. The Atonement will come into our lives in even greater measure. We will then recognize that regardless of perceived differences, all of us are in need of the same infinite Atonement.

Work was coming to an end for the day at Laidlaw Waste Management Systems in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, and Don Hughes, a high councilor in the Edmonton Alberta Millwoods Stake, was sitting at his desk thinking about leaving for home a little earlier than usual.
It was about 3:30 on the afternoon of 31 July 1987, during the hottest week many residents of Edmonton could remember for a long time. It had been unusually humid. The evening before, a strange cloud mass had moved across the city, looking almost like a special visual effect made for a movie.
Brother Hughes’ wife had visited him a little earlier in the day and had suggested that he leave the office then.
“I had this feeling that I wanted to go home, but I had a stronger feeling that said, ‘Stay. You have some things to do here,’” he recalls. “I didn’t know what I had left to finish, but I listened to the prompting and stayed. I told my wife I’d come home soon.”
Shortly afterward, the electricity went out in that part of the city. One of the seven people in the office, looking from the window, pointed out the funnel cloud of a tornado coming from the south. “As soon as I saw it,” Brother Hughes said, “it was as though the Spirit said to me, ‘That is going to come right through this place. You’ve got to get these people ready.’”
Brother Hughes told his co-workers to keep watching the approaching storm, then he went into the back area of the building. The twelve or more workers there were also watching the storm develop. It grew bigger by the second. The tornado was clearly moving toward them.
Brother Hughes remembered that a friend who used to live in the United States told him that if a tornado ever came his way, to get to a sturdy, protected spot. “I told the men to get to the spare parts room. It had concrete block walls and was in a central part of the building. But I could tell that no one was really listening to me, they were too busy watching the approaching tornado.”
He ran to the front office and saw the tornado ready to touch down to the ground. It made contact in a nearby lumberyard, which was rapidly sucked up into the cloud. By now the tornado filled the whole sky. Sounding like a huge freight train, it sucked piles of wood into its blackness, along with vehicles, sheds, and machinery.
“I told all the office staff to get to the lunchroom right away and stay there until the storm was over. I watched until everyone had gone, then went to check on the other employees at the rear of the building,” Brother Hughes says. “The building south of us was collapsing in the storm. One of our men was taking a photograph, but the rest of them looked nervous. They were wondering where they could go for safety.”
Again, Brother Hughes directed them to the spare parts room, but they still hesitated.
“Then I shouted instructions to them louder and stronger than I knew I could. I felt it was the Spirit working, telling them to ‘Move, now!’ It seemed to clear their minds.” They all quickly went to the spare parts room.
When he was sure his co-workers were safe, Brother Hughes started running to the front of the building. The tornado had already destroyed the trucking company across the highway and was gaining on Brother Hughes as he ran.
Windows started blowing out in the Laidlaw building. “The noise was like shotguns going off—BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM—as they shattered and exploded.”
Running into a small storage room for shelter, he slammed the door shut and braced himself against the wall, hoping everyone else in the building was protected.
“I felt more than heard the storm get louder outside. It roared like a train or a jet engine, a rumbling sound mixed with a high-pitched moan.
“I did a lot of praying quickly. I prayed for the people who were there with me. I prayed for my family and the families of those who were there, that they would be watched over and protected. I prayed and hoped it was the Lord’s will that I would survive, but said I was ready to come before him if that was his will.”
As Brother Hughes prayed, the building—sheets of steel on a steel framework—blew apart. Outside, semi-trailer tractors, steel storage vaults, massive air compressors, and industrial garbage containers were tossed around in the air like toys. A wall of the storage room fell in, pushing Brother Hughes to the floor, but sheltering him from other debris. When he opened his eyes and looked up where the ceiling had been, the roaring black cloud was over his head. He was terrified that it might touch down to earth again, but the tornado moved away from the building.
Brother Hughes crawled out of his shelter and forced the battered door open to escape from the storage room. “I expected to see part of the building damaged, but there was nothing left intact. It was as though someone had flattened things with a giant mallet.”
The husband of one of the women from the front office had arrived just before the tornado hit, and had found shelter nearby. He and Brother Hughes ran to where the lunchroom walls had caved in on top of each other, forming a mound of debris. Climbing to the top of the mound, the two men were relieved to find the office staff safely together in a corner where two walls had formed a rough shelter.
Brother Hughes and his companion then made their way to where the spare parts room had been. They found four or five of the men there already out from under the rubble. The group used their bare hands to pull twisted steel and concrete blocks off the debris that had sheltered the rest of their coworkers. Then the men pulled the front office staff out of the wreckage at the other end of the building. During the destruction, only one person had suffered any lasting damage—a back injury.
When an emergency rescue team arrived, they found the Laidlaw workers using one of the company’s large industrial garbage containers for protection from the baseball size hail that fell following the tornado.
The tornado caused more destruction than had ever been seen before in Edmonton. It did more than a quarter of a billion dollars’ worth of damage. Twenty-seven people throughout the city were killed.
Standing on a hill overlooking the destroyed Laidlaw buildings, Don Hughes reflected on what might have happened. “It’s a miracle that none of our workers were killed. Only the areas where we went for safety survived to provide any kind of protection. When I look at the total devastation, it’s almost as if the Lord put out his hands and made a protective shelter for us.”

Jack McConnell grew up in the hills of southwest Virginia in the United States as one of seven children of a Methodist minister and a stay-at-home mother. Their circumstances were very humble. He recounted that during his childhood, every day as the family sat around the dinner table, his father would ask each one in turn, “And what did you do for someone today?”1 The children were determined to do a good turn every day so they could report to their father that they had helped someone. Dr. McConnell calls this exercise his father’s most valuable legacy, for that expectation and those words inspired him and his siblings to help others throughout their lives. As they grew and matured, their motivation for providing service changed to an inner desire to help others.
Besides Dr. McConnell’s distinguished medical career—where he directed the development of the tuberculosis tine test, participated in the early development of the polio vaccine, supervised the development of Tylenol, and was instrumental in developing the magnetic resonance imaging procedure, or MRI—he created an organization he calls Volunteers in Medicine, which gives retired medical personnel a chance to volunteer at free clinics serving the working uninsured. Dr. McConnell said his leisure time since he retired has “evaporated into 60-hour weeks of unpaid work, but [his] energy level has increased and there is a satisfaction in [his] life that wasn’t there before.” He made this statement: “In one of those paradoxes of life, I have benefited more from Volunteers in Medicine than my patients have.”2 There are now over 90 such clinics across the United States.

Three years ago I met a young man who had been severely injured in an accident. The medical forecast was grim. If he survived, he could spend the rest of his life completely paralyzed. Recently I met him again. Through the priesthood, he had been blessed to gain the mobility needed to do all the Lord intended he do in life. He moved his electric cart near, shook my hand, sat upright, and broke into a broad grin. The room was charged with his invincible spirit. His faith—and incredibly hard, painful effort, sustained and magnified by the blessing of the Lord—has begun a miracle. With periodic help from loving friends, he is succeeding in a university and striving to progress to qualify to be a missionary. I know his continued effort will yield far greater improvement.

Near the Gulf of Mexico, you can find seashells, alligators, seagulls, turtles, miles of beaches, and ten-year-old Travis Trahan. The young athlete wrestled his way to take second place in the Louisiana State Wrestling Tournament. He didn’t start out so successfully, though—the first year he wrestled, he didn’t win a single match! But he always wore a smile.
“Whether he was on the top or the bottom, he’d smile. He’d look over at the audience to see who was smiling back at him,” Sister Trahan says. “It hasn’t been until this year that he has gotten into the competitive nature of wrestling.” In the five years since he started wrestling, he has won 18 medals.

“When I was 18, as I was preparing to serve a mission, my bishop called me to teach the Sunbeams. I had never before learned to love others more than myself until I had served those children in such a simple assignment. …

“One day I invited Mike to come to church and sit in my class. Mike was my age but had stopped attending church completely by the time he was 12. … Once in a while Mike would accept my invitations to come to an activity. It always surprised me when he did, so I kept inviting him.

“At that time, Mike had long, black hair and a beard. His complexion was dark and pleasant. I don’t remember when I invited him to my Primary class, but one day he showed up.

“Class, I would like to introduce you to my friend Mike,” is how I began my lesson. “He is visiting us today.”
Read the rest of “The Visitor,” by Ken Merrell, in the May 2000 New Era.

I was not a very impressive teenager and spent little time serving others. During this time my mother invited me to come with her to visit my great-aunt at a nursing home.

My cousin and her daughter Stephanie accompanied us on this visit. Stephanie was seven or eight years old. As we walked into the nursing home, she waved at everyone she saw. They lit up as if she were handing out sunshine and rainbows. I, on the other hand, avoided eye contact.

When we entered the room that my great-aunt shared with another elderly woman, I did my best to disappear into the background. Stephanie, however, jumped onto my aunt’s bed and began to regale her with stories.

I noticed something about this room. On my aunt’s side were signs of love and family. Pictures and crayon drawings hung on the wall, and flowers adorned a nightstand. The other side of the room was sterile and bare. There were no signs of any visitors; no cards or pictures hung on the wall.

My aunt’s roommate sat alone in a wheelchair and did not acknowledge our presence. She was humming a tune and tapping the arms of her wheelchair, which made me uncomfortable.

Stephanie tugged on her mother’s arm and asked, “Mommy, what’s the matter with that lady?” Stephanie’s mother leaned down and whispered, “She needs love.” I was not prepared for what happened next.

Without hesitation, Stephanie ran over and jumped into the woman’s lap. She then began to tell her stories and ask all kinds of questions. The woman did not answer. Instead, tears ran down her face as she embraced Stephanie. For the next several minutes, Stephanie sat in her lap, stroking her hair and kissing her cheek.

I had never witnessed this type of unselfish love before, and I tried to hide my tears. Later, as we drove away from the nursing home, I marveled at how young Stephanie could be so selfless and so full of love and compassion for a complete stranger.

“Congratulations, José,” Bishop García said. He handed me my new temple recommend.
“Thank you!” I said. I shook his hand and walked out of the office, staring down at the white paper. I could go to the temple to do baptisms!
My abuelos (grandparents) were waiting in the hall. My parents didn’t come to church very often, so I usually went to church with Abuela and Abuelo. They both gave me a hug.
“Are you excited for your first temple trip next week?” Abuelo asked as we walked out of the building. “We’ll take a bus to the Santo Domingo Temple.”
“Yes!” I said. But I couldn’t help noticing a funny, fluttery feeling in my stomach.
“It will be so nice to go together as a family,” Abuela said with a big smile.
I smiled back, but the funny feeling didn’t go away.
As the day of the temple trip got closer, I got more nervous. I finally talked to Abuela about it.
She was chopping vegetables in the kitchen, but she stopped when I came in. “What’s wrong?” she asked, wiping her hands on a towel. “You look worried.”
I sighed and sat down at the table. “I’m really excited to go to the temple. But I’m also nervous.”
Abuela nodded, like she understood how I felt. “You don’t need to worry. People will be there to help you the whole time.”
As she spoke, I felt a warm, comforting feeling from my head to my toes. I knew the temple would be special.
Soon the day of our temple trip came. I put on my Sunday clothes and combed my hair. Abuela came into my room.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Excited! I can’t wait to go to the temple.”
Abuela sat on the end of my bed and pulled a piece of paper from her pocket.
“This is a temple ordinance card,” she said. “It’s for my brother. He was very special to me. He died before he could be baptized. Would you like to be baptized for him in the temple today?”
Abuela held out the paper to me. I read the name: Ramon Rodriguez. I could tell Abuela loved her brother, and I was glad she trusted me to get baptized for him.
“Of course, Abuela. Thanks!” I carefully put the card in my pocket.
While riding the bus to the temple, Abuela told about when she went to the temple for the first time with Abuelo. Back then, they had to go all the way to Peru because there wasn’t a temple in the Dominican Republic.
When we got to the temple, Bishop García was already there. My eyes widened as we walked up to the building. It was so beautiful! I paused to read the words above the doors: Holiness to the Lord: The House of the Lord.
As I walked through the doors, I knew I was entering a special space. All my worries seemed to melt away. Everything was quiet and calm. I felt peace.
After changing into white clothes, I stood in the baptismal font with Bishop García. I listened carefully as he said the words of the baptismal prayer. When he said Ramon’s name, a peaceful feeling filled me.
Bishop García lowered me into the water. When I came up, I was smiling. I couldn’t wait to come to the temple again!

Seemingly little lessons of love are observed by children as they silently absorb the examples of their parents. My own father, a printer, worked long and hard practically every day of his life. I’m certain that on the Sabbath he would have enjoyed just being at home. Rather, he visited elderly family members and brought cheer into their lives.

One was his uncle, who was crippled by arthritis so severe that he could not walk or care for himself. On a Sunday afternoon Dad would say to me, “Come along, Tommy; let’s take Uncle Elias for a short drive.” Boarding the old 1928 Oldsmobile, we would proceed to Eighth West, where, at the home of Uncle Elias, I would wait in the car while Dad went inside. Soon he would emerge from the house, carrying in his arms like a china doll his crippled uncle. I then would open the door and watch how tenderly and with such affection my father would place Uncle Elias in the front seat so he would have a fine view while I occupied the rear seat.

The drive was brief and the conversation limited, but oh, what a legacy of love! Father never read to me from the Bible about the good Samaritan. Rather, he took me with him and Uncle Elias in that old 1928 Oldsmobile along the road to Jericho.

Darren Wong, an elder from Winnipeg, Manitoba, didn’t expect to be able to use his musical talents much on his mission to Hong Kong. But to his surprise, Darren’s talent for playing the piano turned out to be an excellent way to help share the gospel.

In addition to playing the piano for baptisms, firesides, and other activities that missionaries often attend with investigators, Elder Wong was invited to play at a concert given in the Hong Kong Cultural Center. His performance at that concert, as well as other Church-sponsored functions, allowed him to make contacts and share the gospel with people who might otherwise not have listened.

In January 2022, over 300 Saints gathered at the Umuahia Nigeria Stake centre for an award night organized in deep appreciation for the enormous contributions of the modern-day pioneers and Saints in the stake. As part of that celebration, plaques and letters were presented by the stake presidency after assigned young single adults read out short descriptions of the service lives of the awardees. The choir sang hymns of gratitude, pioneers shared their heartfelt testimonies and stories of consecrated efforts, the less active members and friends were invited and the history of the stake was presented. The level of socialization among Saints was on this great day very historic and all inclusive.
The then-stake president, Samuel Ekpolo, shared thoughts with us on what motivated his presidency to honor these Saints. He said, “The memories of the great sacrifices of the early Saints, the Nauvoo story, their efforts in establishing the kingdom, even the Nauvoo Temple, despite the many persecutions and attacks inspired deep thoughts of how the local Saints sacrifice their little possessions, abandon their personal and family pleasure to build, establish and restore Zion in Umuahia. Although we may not have their names in the worldwide history of the Church, they are indeed the Nauvoo people of our time whose selfless efforts in magnifying their callings and talents are yielding the unstoppable growth of the kingdom of God in Umuahia, a place where Zion hitherto fled but now restored to her beauty. It was only fair that the rising generation in the years to come may one day know by the records made of this celebration, how the Lord honors His faithful servants. Indeed, beyond appreciation for their labors and consecration, that they may be remembered as instruments in the hand of the Lord during our Nauvoo time in gathering Israel from both sides of the veil”.
There was an outpouring of powerful emotions when some awardees were asked how they felt receiving awards. Here are a few of them:
“As a pioneer, I was very excited that for 40 years of my membership, this is the first time I received an award. I found much evidence of the Lord’s blessings resting upon African Saints, many of whom had been so faithful and patient for so long. We are beginning to have a vision of the important role we need to fulfil in the Lord’s kingdom.” — Brother Kalu Ichie
“It was great and an honor receiving such award. It really motivates me to work in the vineyard of the Lord anytime, anyday.” — Brother Ukauwa Chimaobi
“I indeed was speechless, sufficiently humbled and indebtedly grateful that Elohim chose me to be used in promoting music in the Umuahia Nigeria Stake of Zion, the gathering place of the Saints, even Israel.” — Sister Linda Ajah
We are indeed so grateful for the example of the Umuahia Nigeria Stake in aligning its efforts to the Africa West Area goals by celebrating and honoring the Saints. That was a great and faith-promoting Church history activity in our area that blessed lives, reactivated many, provided missionary opportunities and inspired greater commitment among Saints, especially the rising generation who were also awardees.

Earlier this year I attended the funeral of an extraordinary ordinary man—my husband’s uncle Don. One of Uncle Don’s sons shared an experience he had as a small child, shortly after his parents had purchased their first home. Because there were five small children to feed and clothe, there was not enough money to fence the yard. Taking seriously one of his divine roles as the protector of his family, Uncle Don drove a few small wooden stakes into the ground, took some string, and tied the string from stake to stake all around the yard. He then called his children to him. He showed them the stakes and string and explained to them that if they would stay on the inside of that makeshift fence, they would be safe.

One day the visiting teachers watched in disbelief as they approached the house and saw five little children standing obediently at the edge of the string, looking longingly at a ball that had bounced beyond their boundaries and out into the street. One little child ran to get their daddy, who, in response, ran and retrieved the ball.

Later in the funeral, the oldest son tearfully expressed that all he had ever hoped in this life was to be like his beloved father.

In another instance, a Laurel class president determined that she was going to fulfill her responsibility to activate a girl even though her leaders felt the situation was almost hopeless. Her bishop told her that because of some problems in the home and for other reasons, there was very little chance this girl would ever come to church. The other class members laughed when they learned helping this girl come back to church was to be one of the goals of their class president.
Nevertheless, she was determined to become friends with this girl and asked for and got the help of a neighbor girl as well. They began by saying “Hi” whenever they saw her and always stopping to talk to her for a minute. Then they started finding reasons to visit her. She was selected to be a member of the Booster Club (an organization whose purpose is to boost the morale of the team) for her high school wrestling team. The Laurel class president took her a flower and a note expressing congratulations. This process went on for three or four months. Finally, one Sunday the girl accepted an invitation to come to Sunday School. The next week she was there again, and that week she also attended Mutual. Because of her courage and faith, a young Laurel influenced a girl of her own age to take the first step toward activity in the Church.