Gospel Story Finder

We had barely arrived in our motel room when the phone rang. I knew it would be bad news about Jodi, my nine-month-old sister. She had been in a coma since birth and required round-the-clock monitoring and special tubal feedings. We had left Jodi temporarily at a care center so our family could take a much-needed vacation.
I answered the phone. My grandpa was on the line. His voice was firm: “Get your dad.”
Their conversation ended quickly. My fears were confirmed. Jodi had died.
The next day, after we had arrived home, I breathed a sigh of relief. The school bus was at the top of the street. My friends would be coming. At last I would have somebody my own age to share my pain.
However, as I stood in my driveway waiting for my friends, something strange happened. It was almost as if I had become invisible. I watched as my friends crossed to the other side of the street and continued talking with one another. They didn’t even look at me.
The next morning my friends didn’t pick me up as they usually did. “That’s understandable,” I thought. They probably knew I wasn’t going to school because of funeral planning. But they didn’t come the next day or the next or the next. They didn’t wait for me after school either.
During this time my family received lots of support from the Relief Society and other ward members. However, chicken casserole did little to soothe my 13-year-old aching heart. When I returned to Mutual, my adviser gave a lesson on life after death. I started crying. My adviser looked down and continued reading. My classmates stared ahead. I sobbed. How I wished somebody would have cried with me or put her arms around me.
Looking back on these events, I realize that my friends were not cruel and uncaring. They just didn’t know how to respond to my pain. They assumed that I wanted to be left alone to grieve and, since I was in mourning, I would not want to do anything fun.

Moses Mahlangu, of Soweto, South Africa, patiently but persistently waited sixteen years for baptism. When he speaks of his long wait, Brother Mahlangu compares himself to Cornelius, who he says was “very good in waiting to receive the word of God or to be a member of the Church until the angels came and told him what to do.” (See Acts 10:1–7.) Today, at age sixty-seven, Moses is a groundskeeper at the Johannesburg South Africa Temple, which he regularly attends.

Many years ago, as a bishop in a large and diverse ward of over a thousand members located in downtown Salt Lake City, I faced numerous challenges.

One Sunday afternoon I received a phone call from the proprietor of a drugstore located within our ward boundaries. He indicated that earlier that morning, a young boy had come into his store and had purchased an ice-cream sundae from the soda fountain. He had paid for the purchase with money he took from an envelope, and then when he left, he had forgotten the envelope. When the proprietor had a chance to examine it, he found that it was a fast-offering envelope with the name and telephone number of our ward printed on it. As he described to me the boy who had been in his store, I immediately identified the individual—a young deacon from our ward who came from a less-active family.

My first reaction was one of shock and disappointment to think that any of our deacons would take fast-offering funds intended for those in need and would go to a store on a Sunday and buy a treat with the money. I determined to visit the boy that afternoon in order to teach him about the sacred funds of the Church and his duty as a deacon to gather and to protect those funds.

As I drove to the home, I offered a silent prayer for direction in what I should say to compose the situation. I arrived and knocked on the door. It was opened by the boy’s mother, and I was invited into the living room. Although the room was barely lighted, I could see how small and run-down it was. The few pieces of furniture were threadbare. The mother herself looked worn out.

My indignation at her son’s actions that morning disappeared from my thoughts as I realized that here was a family in real need. I felt impressed to ask the mother if there was any food in the house. Tearfully she admitted that there was none. She told me that her husband had been out of work for some time and that they were in desperate need not only of food but also of money with which to pay the rent so that they wouldn’t be evicted from the tiny house.

I never did bring up the matter of the fast-offering donations, for I realized that the boy had most likely been desperately hungry when he stopped at the drugstore. Rather, I immediately arranged for assistance for the family, that they might have food to eat and a roof over their heads. In addition, with the help of the priesthood leaders in the ward, we were able to arrange employment for the husband so that he could provide for his family in the future.

After my first year of university studies, I began a project to better understand the Bible. I decided to study the teachings of a few religious groups I had heard were not Christian and then compare them to the teachings of the Bible.
As the next semester began, I started studying The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. One of my classes required laboratory work with a partner, and I prayed for someone with whom I could learn what I needed to learn.
I chose a lab bench, and soon a student approached and asked if I had a partner. He introduced himself as Lincoln. I didn’t remember seeing him at school the year before and asked if he had transferred.
“Actually,” he said, “I just returned from serving as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
I told Lincoln I had begun studying his church and had some questions. He happily agreed to answer them.
During the next three months, I asked questions about the Book of Mormon, temples, latter-day prophets, and modern revelation. Although I learned a great deal during this time, I still thought that Mormons weren’t Christians.
One weekend our school lost a big game. Some teachers in the lab vigorously discussed the loss, repeatedly using the Lord’s name in vain. Lincoln approached the teachers and asked them if they would please stop speaking about Jesus Christ that way.
“Does that really bother you?” they asked with some doubt.
“Yes,” Lincoln replied. “Jesus Christ is my best friend.”
At that moment, my investigation of the Church changed from an intellectual exercise to a question of faith. If this religion produced men like this, it was Christian in every way that mattered.
As Lincoln and I left that night, I asked if I could attend church with him sometime. After going to church, I asked him if I could have a copy of the Book of Mormon and if I could meet with the missionaries.
For two years I investigated the Church and spent time with its members. I saw a consistent pattern of sincere men and women diligently striving to be disciples of the Master. On numerous occasions the Holy Ghost confirmed to me that Jesus Christ, whom I had always tried my best to serve, really had restored His Church in our day. It was overseen by prophets and apostles and led directly by Him.
I was baptized and have now enjoyed more than a dozen years of blessings from the restored gospel and its teachings. How grateful I am that Heavenly Father answered my prayer to find a lab partner who would help me learn what I needed to learn.

A true story from the USA.
Rowan watched as Miss Brody invited a new student to stand at the front of the classroom.
“This is Ernest,” Miss Brody said. “He just arrived in Hawaii from a country called Ukraine. He doesn’t speak any English. Will you all be kind and make friends with him?”
Rowan and his classmates nodded.
Ernest was looking down and frowning. He was the only person wearing long pants and a long-sleeved shirt.
Rowan wondered what it would be like to move to a new country and not speak the language. It sounded scary!
At recess, Rowan saw Ernest walk to a spot by himself while the other kids ran off to play together. He was still frowning.
Rowan wanted to be friends with him, but he didn’t know what to say. How could they be friends if they didn’t speak the same language?
After school, Rowan went home and asked Dad for help. “Can you help me look up how to say things in Ukrainian?” Rowan asked. “There’s a new boy in our class who doesn’t speak English.”
Dad nodded. “Of course.”
First, they looked up how to say, “It’s lunchtime.” Rowan listened to the answer. “Nastav obidniy chas.” Rowan tried saying it a few times. It was hard! So he looked up how to say “hello.”
“Pryvit,” the voice on the computer told him. That was easier. Rowan replayed the word over and over and practiced saying it.
The next day during recess, Rowan found Ernest sitting alone on the grass again. Rowan stood next to him and smiled. “Pryvit!” he said in a loud voice. He hoped he said it right.
Ernest smiled and handed Rowan a gummy bear.
Rowan sat next to Ernest and said pryvit again. Then he said, “Hello.”
“Hello,” Ernest said slowly. He gave Rowan another gummy bear. It smelled like oranges, and it was delicious and chewy.
Rowan drew four lines in the dirt next to them to make a tic-tac-toe grid. He taught Ernest how to play. It was hard to explain since they didn’t speak the same language. Sometimes Ernest drew X’s when it wasn’t his turn. But Rowan didn’t mind. He just wanted to make a new friend.
Every day that week, Rowan played with Ernest at recess. They shared gummy bears and played games together.
One day at home, Dad asked, “How’s the new boy in your class? Did you practice the words you learned?”
“Yes! His name is Ernest,” Rowan said. “We play games at recess, and he gives me gummy bears.”
Dad smiled. “That’s awesome.” He sat next to Rowan on the couch. “Ernest and his family are refugees. They come from a country far away. Elder Kearon said that Jesus Christ was a refugee as a boy and asked us to be friends when we meet people from other countries. What do you think it takes to be a good friend?”
Rowan thought for a second. “It takes some love and finding a game to play together,” he said. “Then, others can join in and play the game too and get to know each other.”
Dad pulled Rowan in for a hug. “You are following Jesus and doing what the prophets ask us to do,” he said. “And now you have a new friend.”
“The Savior knows how it feels to be a refugee—He was one. … He repeatedly taught us to love one another, to love as He loves, to love our neighbor as ourselves.”
Elder Patrick Kearon, “Refuge from the Storm,” Liahona, May 2016, 111–12.
Illustrations by Josh Talbot

Leah dropped her schoolbag as soon as she walked into her room. She crawled onto her bed and squeezed her pillow to her stomach. She couldn’t believe what Ashley had said about her dad.
Leah’s dad had died by suicide a few months ago. She missed him a lot. She missed his famous meatballs. She missed how happy he made Mom. And she missed watching him play his guitar.
Sometimes when she was sad, Leah listened to his music. She also wrote him letters. She kept them in the memory box in her closet. It was the same box where she kept Dad’s glasses, his old baseball hat, and other things he liked. It was her way of remembering him.
But Leah didn’t feel like listening to music or writing letters now. She was sad, but also kind of angry. She squeezed the pillow tighter and started to cry.
Mom tapped gently on the door. “Are you OK?” Mom asked.
Leah sniffed and sat up. Mom sat down on the bed next to her.
“Ashley said something mean,” Leah said. “About Dad.” Tears kept falling from Leah’s eyes. “She said he can’t go to heaven because of how he died.”
“Oh, sweetie,” Mom said, pulling Leah into a hug. “That’s not true.” She wiped away some of Leah’s tears. “When your dad died, his brain was sick. Heavenly Father understands what Dad was feeling and why he was hurting.”
“He was a good man,” Leah said. “Heavenly Father loves him and is helping him, right?”
“Dad was a great man, Leah. He loved you so much.” Mom wiped away a tear of her own. “And Heavenly Father does love him. I know He does.”
“But how do you know?” Leah asked.
“Because I pray about it sometimes,” Mom said. “And even though I miss him so much it hurts, I also feel moments of peace.”
Leah nodded.
“I’m sorry Ashley said that to you,” Mom said. “I know Ashley is one of your best friends, and that was really hurtful for you.”
“Yeah.” Leah was quiet for a minute. Then she asked, “Can we say a prayer together?”
“Of course.”
Mom and Leah knelt down. Then Leah began to pray. “Heavenly Father, I really miss my dad. Is he OK? Please help me to feel better. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Leah unfolded her arms and gave Mom another hug. She felt a tiny bit better. She still felt really sad, but she didn’t feel worried about her dad anymore. She knew Heavenly Father loved him, and she knew that He loved her too.
“Thanks, Mom.” Leah took a deep breath. “Can you help me talk to Ashley?”
“That’s a great idea,” Mom said. “I don’t think she meant to hurt your feelings, but it would be good for her to know why what she said was hurtful. I’ll call her mom and see if we can have them come over tomorrow to talk.”
“OK,” said Leah. “I think I’m going to have some quiet time now.”
Mom nodded. “Let me know if you need anything.”
Leah turned on her dad’s music. She closed her eyes and listened to the strumming of his guitar. Then she pulled out a piece of paper and started writing him a letter.

My standards were first tested the week before Christmas when I attended the ski patrol party. I walked in the front door and was immediately greeted by seemingly happy and carefree co-workers. People who had never said a word to me before now seemed to think we were best friends. Their beer spilled on my clothes as they stretched their arms out for a hug. A fellow rookie approached me and unleashed his frustration at not having the personal strength that I exhibited in avoiding alcohol. I was surprised by his sincere concern as he continued to share his disappointment in his lack of conviction.
The beer sloshed out of his cup as he gestured with his hands, and I explained to him the Word of Wisdom and the personal choice I made long before not to drink. As I drove home that night, I felt peace that I had been an example to one person.

Let me share with you a pointed letter which came from a resident of Minnesota. It was addressed to Brigham Young University:
“Gentlemen:
“Beginning December 22, I made a bus trip from southern Minnesota to Florida via Des Moines and Chicago and points south.
“There was a large group of young men and women traveling the approximately same route from Des Moines. These fine young people were students from Brigham Young [University] going home for the holidays.
“They were all very polite, well-behaved, articulate young men and women. It was a pleasure to travel with them—to know them—and it gave me a new hope for the future.
“I realized that the university cannot do this. Young men and women of their caliber are the product of fine homes. The credit is due the parents. I cannot reach the parents, so my appreciation must go to the school.”

“What are you doing, Mommy?” Madolyn asked as she sat down in the kitchen.
Mom rummaged through a box and placed a pile of books on the table. “I’m going through all of these books so we can put them on the new bookshelves.”
Madolyn grabbed a book with a bright orange cover. “I remember this story,” she said. She thumbed through the pages of the picture book.
“I need to organize all of these magazines too,” Mom said as she set some magazines next to the books.
“Wow, look at all of these!” Madolyn picked up a pile of some Friend magazines. She held up one with a picture of Jesus and some children on the cover. “Can I read this one?” she asked.
Mom looked at the magazine. “This is from before you were even born.”
“Can I have it?” Madolyn asked.
“Sure!”
A few days later while Mom was making dinner, Madolyn said, “Mommy, I read a great story in this Friend.”* She held up the old magazine. “It’s about an experiment.”
“What kind of experiment?”
Madolyn opened the magazine and pointed to a picture. “This boy decided to try hard to be nice and not get angry easily. I think Logan, Savannah, and I should try something like that.” She tapped her finger on her forehead. “We’ll try hard to be like Jesus this week. We’ll try not to argue when we play together, and we’ll try to be better examples for each other. We won’t tell the older kids or Dad and see if they can guess what we’re doing.” Madolyn’s smile stretched across her face.
Mom gave Madolyn a squeeze, and said, “That’s a great idea!”
The next night at family scripture study, Clayton, the oldest brother, said, “Savannah, I noticed you’re being extra reverent tonight.” Savannah just smiled and looked over at Madolyn.
One evening after family prayer, Angela, the oldest sister, said, “You all listened to the prayer really well tonight.” Logan, Savannah, and Madolyn all grinned.
Saturday at dinner, Dad said to the younger children, “I’m glad that you all shared your toys today, and played together nicely.” The three children giggled.
When family home evening came, their sister, Rachel, asked, “What’s going on with the little ones?”
“What do you mean?” Mom asked.
“They’ve all been extra reverent and nice for the last few days,” Rachel said.
“I’ve noticed that too,” Dad said.
Madolyn covered her mouth but her big smile peeked out from behind her hand.
“Why don’t you tell the rest of the family, Madolyn,” Mom said.
“We decided to try to be like Jesus for a week, like a boy in a story I read in an old Friend magazine,” Madolyn said.
“We tried to not fight too much,” Logan said.
“And tried to be reverent during prayer and scripture study,” Savannah said.
“I think our experiment turned out very well!” declared Madolyn with a great big smile. And everyone agreed.

A milestone in the short history of the Church in Hungary was the youth conference held in Budapest during the summer of 1993. Nearly 200 Latter-day Saint young men and women came from all over Hungary. There were talent shows, sports activities, and workshops. But the highlight was the four-hour testimony meeting.
“It’s not possible to tell you how beautiful the testimonies were,” says Valkai Nikoletta, 18. “Everybody cried. The Holy Ghost was there. After that, nobody could sleep that evening. The next morning, we didn’t want to go home. We had a closing prayer to end the conference and left feeling very sad that it was over. But at the same time, we were happy. We felt so close to one another that we sang together on the bus all the way back to Dunaújváros. The Holy Ghost was there as we sang.”

While on an Explorer river running outing, 17-year-old Christopher Jacobs of Bountiful, Utah, saved the life of Steve Haslam, an adult leader. Steve Haslam lost control of his Sport Yak while running the rapids on the Colorado River. His life jacket became entangled in the oarlock, trapping him under water. Christopher saw the incident and dived into the water. While fighting stiff rapids, he was able to free Mr. Haslam.
Christopher was given the Honor Medal with crossed palms for heroism from the National Court of Honor of the Boy Scouts of America. His is only the sixth award given by the national court in two years. The award is given for demonstrating both unusual heroism and extraordinary resourcefulness in saving or attempting to save life at the extreme risk of self.
Christopher is a member of the Bountiful 46th Ward, Bountiful Utah Mueller Park Stake.

I decided I needed to focus on what I could do rather than what I couldn’t do during this physical affliction. I began by compiling a gratitude list. At the top of my list, I wrote that I was grateful for being alive and knowing who I am. By knowing that I am a daughter of God and that my Savior loves me, I was able to “press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope” (2 Nephi 31:20).
I became determined to fill myself with a perfect brightness of hope, love, and gratitude by studying the life of Jesus Christ through reading the scriptures, receiving priesthood blessings, and serving others in small and grateful ways.
I was often filled with fear during this affliction. This fear would cause panic attacks and make me feel weary and unsure of my ability to ever recover and be whole. One day I received a card in the mail from my Relief Society president that included a scripture that became my peaceful prescription for overcoming the fear that was holding me back: “Perfect love casteth out all fear” (Moroni 8:16). Our Master Healer, Jesus Christ, would cast out my darkness, doubt, and despair and fill me with His light, love, and lift. My fear faded and my faith ignited.
After four years of chronic fatigue, I ran my first marathon in 2011 and have run 12 more since.
Photograph courtesy of the author
After four years, I knew I had been patient in affliction, and I felt physically able and prepared to move on. I wouldn’t be moving on alone. My husband and my children (the oldest of which was born two years into my illness) were my most enthusiastic cheerleaders.
So I began training for the marathon one step at a time. My husband decided to train with me and promised to run the race with me. During one of my training runs, I came upon a street sign that validated my healing. The street name at the top of a hill was Success. At that moment, I knew the Lord had kept His promise to me. I had been taught what I should do to endure this affliction: “Bear with patience thine afflictions, and I will give unto you success” (Alma 26:27).
The Lord gave me more success than I expected. He renewed my strength and healed my broken heart. I could run again, and after 16 years of not being able to have children, I was blessed to give birth to a son and a daughter (within 21 months of each other). I’m so grateful I held on to God’s guidance I had received in the scriptures.
I pressed forward through the illness with faith in Christ and with my husband and children as my cheerleaders. Now our children are old enough to run with us.
Photograph courtesy of the author
I know the words of Christ tell us all things that we should do (see 2 Nephi 32:3). I know that being patient helps the process of healing to happen. As Paul wrote, “Let us run with patience the race that is set before us” (Hebrews 12:1). Running the race of life requires us to overcome obstacles put on our path. By holding on to hope in Christ, pressing forward with a steadfastness in Christ, and moving on with His perfect love surrounding us, we will, in the Lord’s timing, be made free! (see John 8:36).
The author lives in Alaska.

Lucy T., 15, from Utah, USA, says, “In my Young Women class, we were challenged to write a note to one of the widows in our ward. I decided to drop a note off at a widow’s house that I pass on the way to piano lessons. This woman loved the note so much that I decided to leave her a note every week. I also started visiting her in person. She tells me hilarious and inspiring stories and sends me cards every holiday. I’ve made a fabulous new friend.”

A small note on the keyboard read, “This computer is reserved for Samuel at 5:00 a.m.” In response to his stake president’s challenge for the stake to index one million names, 14-year-old Samuel B. of Utah started getting up at 5:00 a.m. so that he could index before school. With one computer in the home and seven siblings with homework to do, Samuel had to sacrifice some sleep in order to get time on the computer.
But Samuel’s enthusiasm spread to the rest of his family. Soon his brother Nathan sacrificed basketball time and his sister Ivyllyn sacrificed reading time in order to index. “I’ve never been challenged as much by my children,” Samuel’s father says. “Until they got involved, I thought indexing was hard. They taught me that it could be easy and fun.” The following New Year’s Eve, the children were rushing to finish their yearly indexing goals before midnight.
Thousands of miles away, the Lanuza family in Guatemala caught the same enthusiasm. This family of nine—five children, Mom, Dad, Grandma, and Grandpa—share one computer. With the children using the computer for homework, Mom finishing her studies at the university, and Dad working, the computer is always in high demand, and each family member takes turns indexing. Together, the family indexed more than 37,000 records in 2011.

I think of another. I knew him well. He joined the Church when long ago I was a missionary in the British Isles. He had a smoking habit. He prayed for strength in that springtime of his Church membership, and the Lord answered his prayer and gave him power to overcome his habit. He looked to God and lived with a joy he never had previously known. But something happened. Family and social pressures were brought against him. He lowered his vision and gave way to his appetite. The smell of burning tobacco seduced him. I saw him some years later. We talked together of the old and better days he had known. He wept bitterly. He blamed this and he blamed that, and as he did so, I was inclined to repeat the words of Cassius—
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
(William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar, act 1, scene 2, lines 140–41.)

Do you like to work? When I was a boy growing up in Sandy, Utah, my three brothers and I learned to work hard. My family had a big garden, and my father always planted much more than our family could ever eat. He gave corn, tomatoes, and other vegetables to our neighbors. When they offered to come pick the vegetables, my father said, “Oh, no. My boys will pick them and have them ready for you.” My brothers and I learned to get up at 4:30 or 5:00 in the morning to weed the garden and pick the vegetables while it was still cool. I still get up very early in the morning.

Illustration by Taylor Callery
Sister Vida Osei of Ghana wanted to learn to read and write English. She had tried community programs a number of times but had become discouraged and quit within weeks. Then one Sunday while attending meetings at the Second Branch, she learned that the Asamankese District was sponsoring an English literacy program. She decided to take a chance and enroll.
She soon found that this program was different. She would be able to attend with friends from church. Scriptures are used as study materials, so she would learn English and the gospel at the same time.
Two months after starting the class, Vida gave her first prayer in a class—ever. Three months after starting, she gave her first-ever talk in sacrament meeting, partially in Twi, a local African language, and partially in English. Four months after beginning, she began writing in a tattered notebook the orders, costs, and prices for her work as a self-employed seamstress. She made fewer mistakes with customers, got lower prices from vendors, and made more money than she had before in any previous month.
“I was too shy to attend a literacy class with just anyone,” she said. “But when the literacy class was held at the meetinghouse with members I knew, it gave me the courage to try again. And now I can read the scriptures and improve my business by reading and writing English.”
In sub-Saharan Africa, many people, especially women, do not know how to read and write. Illiteracy is so widespread that an old African proverb says, “If you want to hide something, write it in a book.” For Latter-day Saint women like Vida, however, literacy is on the rise.
Limited infrastructure and limited public education in most sub-Saharan countries means limited opportunities, especially for girls. Because of the high cost of schooling and girls’ restricted status in society, to many people reading seems an unattainable skill. In Ghana, for example, although English is the official language, estimates say that less than half of adult women speak English. In rural Ghana, two-thirds of adult women are illiterate.
“Most adult women in our towns and villages do not speak English,” says Seth Oppong, president of the Abomosu District in the Ghana Accra West Mission. “Our local language, Twi, has been a verbal language for centuries. Only recently has an alphabet for Twi been created, so few people read it, either.”
“Sisters must rely on others—mostly their husbands if they are married, or on word of mouth from friends if they are not married—to understand gospel principles and Church policies,” explains Georgina Amoaka, the district Relief Society president. “Many have great desires to serve, but they cannot read manuals or magazines so their opportunities to participate at church are limited.”
Since women do not speak English in their homes or at the market, Church participation provides their main incentive to learn the language. Yet both long-time members and new converts may encounter family resistance concerning literacy programs. The district council discussed this concern, and then President Oppong spoke to priesthood and auxiliary leaders in each branch about a district-wide approach to literacy training. While open to all women in the community, the program would focus on women in the Church. Rather than inviting individuals separately, invitations would be extended to attend in groups—for example, Relief Society and Primary presidencies would attend together so they could support each other.
Based on discussions with the branches, district leadership decided to hold literacy classes at each branch on Sundays as well as twice during the week. After a concentrated six-month effort, certificates of completion would be awarded to those who attended regularly and completed required homework.
“One of the challenges was to find a way to teach reading and writing to people who have only a spoken language,” explains Elder Jim Dalton, a senior missionary serving in the district. “Because of Twi’s long tradition as a spoken-but-not-written language, most people who speak it don’t know how to write it, so we had to start with learning to write.”
Ransford Darkwah of the Abomosu District high council worked with two returned missionaries, Francis Ansah and Cecelia Amankwah, to use a locally produced manual. Participants were shown pictures and asked to write about what they saw. This helped them develop basic writing skills while learning to think in English. Once some basic abilities were in place, more advanced learning resources could then be used.
Before the program began, literacy specialists trained instructors not only in learning methods but also in how to teach practical hygiene and family life skills. But even the best training couldn’t have foreseen some of challenges encountered once classes began: frequent power outages in the area made evening classes difficult to conduct, rumors that unruly gold miners were roaming the streets at night created anxiety, and occasionally those with keys were unable to arrive on time to open church buildings.
Once again, the district council discussed what needed to be done. In response to their counsel, groups of participants began coming to class together. They were given flashlights to help them safely walk along footpaths. Local leaders authorized use of generators to power lights at church buildings at night. Well-trusted members who lived near buildings were entrusted with keys so they could open buildings on time.
Sixty-one members and investigators began the program. Forty-three completed all of the sessions and homework. At graduation, they were invited to give short presentations.
“Before the literacy program began, I could not read at all,” said Sandra Obeng Amoh of the Sankubenase Branch. “When my husband traveled for work, I never had family home evening. Some weeks ago when he was gone, my oldest son helped me read the manual and I gave a lesson in English to my children. Since then I have done so every week that my husband is not at home.”
Prosper Gyekete, who despite limited English skills has remained a faithful member in the Abomosu Second Branch, read a three-sentence testimony he wrote himself. He said he could not read or write before the class but now he can help his young children with their homework. “Thanks to what I have learned,” he said, “I can be a better father.”
“Now I can read the scriptures by myself,” said Kwaku Sasu of the Kwabeng Branch. “Before, I knew the Book of Mormon was true even though I could not read it. Now I know it is true as I read it. My testimony is growing and growing.”
The members of the Asunafo Branch Relief Society presidency said they dedicated each Thursday to speaking to each other only in English. “It made some conversations longer that day because we could not think of the right words to say to each other,” said Evelyn Agyeiwaa, Relief Society president. “But we soon began translating for each other, finding the right words to say. Because we were learning together, none of us was embarrassed or afraid to say the wrong words. We simply helped each other.”
Women who completed the Abomosu District literacy program said they felt better about themselves and were more likely to participate in church. They became more willing to accept callings, read the scriptures, and teach both at church and at home. Some men also completed the program. Mostly subsistence farmers, they said they are now better able to calculate costs and sales of their produce, help children with their homework, and read the scriptures on their own and with their families.
Encouraged by the success in Abomosu, the neighboring Asamankese District has launched its own literacy program.
“Being able to read and write is changing our lives and the lives of our children,” said Gladis Aseidu of the Sankubenase Branch. “Words are changing our world, and we thank our Father in Heaven.”

When I came out as bisexual a few years ago, I felt like I was facing an ultimatum: stay “true” to my sexual orientation and leave the Church (according to the world’s view) or deny my experience and stay faithful.
I wanted to align with Heavenly Father’s will. However, as I grew up, I also heard LGBT issues in and out of the Church talked about with negative feelings and harsh judgments, so I felt conflicted. I always wondered: How could I be both a member of the Church of Jesus Christ and experience same-sex attraction?
After years of trying to ignore my feelings, I couldn’t deny my experiences. But I didn’t know where that left me as a disciple of Christ. I grappled with this question: If God exists and loves me and has a plan for me, and if His plan of happiness involves marriage between a man and a woman only, then why am I attracted to women and men?
I was so confused.
During this time of unanswered questions, friends outside of the Church told me I should abandon my faith to “follow my heart.” I considered this at times—I already felt like I didn’t belong at church with all my questions. My family and loved ones showed love and support when I told them about my experiences, but I still felt so much uncertainty about what to do.
There were moments throughout this challenging time when I wondered if I really was one of Heavenly Father’s children, if He loved me, and if I had a place in the gospel of Jesus Christ.
As I sought Him more diligently than ever, I eventually did feel His love for me. I looked back at spiritual times in life, like my baptism day, moments in the temple, and other spiritual experiences. I couldn’t deny Heavenly Father’s love for me. I could feel that He is fully aware of my circumstances and that no matter what I am experiencing in mortality, I have a divine nature.

In July 2011, the Atiwa District in Ghana experienced an unusual amount of rain. After a day or two, and without warning, the local rivers overflowed their banks and flooded the countryside. This deluge of water turned the village of Abomosu into an island, as well as the adjacent villages of Asunafo and Sankubenase. The flood not only isolated these villages, but also flooded their farms and swept away most of their crops.
For the small branches of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, these were perilous times. Their main supply of food was gone, many homes were flooded, and some were cut off from their families and loved ones.
Seth Oppong, President of the Abomosu District, was in Abomosu when the river flooded, cutting him off from his village of Asunafo and his small family. As the extent of the danger began to dawn on him and other priesthood leaders in the town, they quickly gathered at the local branch building to counsel together and ask the Lord to help them.
Elder James Dalton, who along with his wife Pam, had just arrived in Abomosu six weeks earlier as MLS missionaries, were among the eight priesthood leaders who met in the local branch building to discuss the situation.
After pleading with the Lord to protect the people and to guide them in responding to the danger, they quickly developed their plan: first, they needed to account for all the members of the branch; second, they needed to take inventory of the food sources that were available to them; and third, they needed to distribute the food according to the needs of each family. As they discussed feeding the local members, they quickly realized they could not ignore their nonmember neighbors and friends, so they were added to the distribution list as well.
Their plan was quickly passed on by cell phone to the other branch presidents in surrounding villages. The goal was to locate every member and identify food sources and report back in two hours.
Within two hours, the priesthood leaders reported back. In Abomosu, all but three members of the branch had been accounted for (they were later found and rescued). The report was that there was not much food available. Some members had food storage and were willing to share.
Stephen Abu, the former district president and current stake patriarch, had a field of corn near Abomosu that was located high enough to avoid the flood waters. He told the district president that the corn was not ready for harvest, but they were welcome to take whatever they needed. Two young missionaries and several members were given the keys to Elder Dalton’s truck and told to fill the truck with corn. When the missionaries returned, the back of the truck and the back seat of the truck were completely filled with corn. They spent the rest of the day, driving through the village, handing out corn to members of the Church and their neighbors.
That night the priesthood leaders met again. They had enough corn to feed the village for a couple of days, but how would they be able to feed them after that? They knelt and prayed that the Lord would help them find a way to keep the people from starving.
The next morning, another member of the Church came forward and said that they had some corn that they were drying to be ground into meal. It was not completely dry, but they could have it to help feed the people. Those who had food storage continued to help those in need. Several days later, the two young missionaries and several local members went back to the small corn field of Stephen Abu to see if they could find any more corn that could be picked. Because the flood waters were so high, they needed rafts to get to the farm and bring the corn back. No one expected much, but when the missionaries returned, they had another load of corn. This little miracle continued four or five times until they were able to find additional sources of food, some of which came from friends and relatives and the Church in Accra.
In talking about the flood and the efforts made to take care of the people in Abomosu, Brother Abu said, “Isn’t the Lord wonderful! The more you give, the more he gives back.” Both Brother Abu and President Oppong referenced the Savior in feeding the 5,000 as they reflected on how the Lord had preserved them.
Elder Dalton reflected on the words of the Prophet Elijah to the widow of Zarephath, “make me thereof a little cake first, and bring it unto me, and after make for thee and for thy son.
“For thus saith the Lord God of Israel, The barrel of meal shall not waste, neither shall the cruse of oil fail . . .
“And she went and did according to the saying of Elijah: and she, and he, and her house, did eat many days.” (1 Kings 17:13–15)

I recall the example of a Catholic priest I came to know as we worked together in community service activities in Nashville, Tennessee. Father Charles Strobel developed a project to bring homeless men off the street a few at a time into a training program that provided life skills and vocational opportunities for them. He devoted untold hours to helping these men make permanent changes for the better and become self-reliant. I was surprised to learn that his mother had been killed by a homeless man not many years earlier. Father Strobel’s Christlike love extended even to men among whom was found one who had violently taken his precious mother’s life.