Gospel Story Finder

“You think you’re better than everyone else because you don’t swear,” Jared said at recess.
“That’s not true,” said Brock.
“Then why won’t you say one swear word? Just one? It’s not going to kill you. Everybody else swears.”
Brock shrugged. “I just don’t want to.”
Brock knew swearing is wrong and makes the Holy Ghost leave. Brock wanted the Holy Ghost with him. So he didn’t swear.
Brock was new at school, and so far, Jared was the only one in his class who wanted to be his friend. But Jared bugged him about swearing every single day. And every day Brock got a little more tired of saying no. Besides, Brock was afraid that Jared would stop being his friend, and then he’d really be lonely.
“Just say one swear word,” Jared said after school. “Then I’ll leave you alone.”
Finally Brock was so tired of being bothered that he said one swear word—one that wasn’t too bad.
Jared nodded. “Good. Now you’re one of us.”
After that, Jared’s other friends talked to Brock too. They ate lunch with him and played football with him at recess. But being in Jared’s group of friends was like walking into quicksand. The more Brock hung out with them, the more he talked and acted like them. And they all swore. A lot. They laughed at and insulted each other. They said rude things about their teachers. They got mad and acted mean a lot. Slowly Brock started feeling angry more often and found more and more reasons to swear.
One night when Mom and Dad were gone, Brock and his sister Katie got into an argument about what show to watch. Before Brock even thought about it, a swear word jumped out of his mouth.
Katie looked shocked. “I’m telling Mom.”
Brock ran to his bedroom and slammed the door. What was wrong with everyone? Why were they making him mad all the time? When his parents came home, Brock cracked open his door and heard Katie say, “Mom, Brock swore at me.”
“What?” Mom sounded surprised. “Brock would never swear.”
Brock closed the door and slumped down on his bed. He thought about how different he’d become since he started swearing. It had been a long time since he had felt the Holy Ghost.
Brock knelt down by his bed and prayed. “Dear Heavenly Father, I’m so sorry I’ve been mean and angry. I’m sorry I started swearing. Please help me do better.”
As Brock prayed, a warm feeling filled his heart. For the first time since he started swearing, he felt really happy. He knew God loved him, and he could feel the Holy Ghost. He felt forgiven and knew he could change. Heavenly Father would help him.
After his prayer, he told Mom the truth and apologized to Katie. Brock felt better after that. It felt good to repent.
The next day at school, Brock didn’t eat lunch with Jared’s group. Instead he sat next to some kids he didn’t know. It would take time, but Brock knew he would find friends who were kind and happy and didn’t swear. Just like him.

Almost three years ago, one of our daughters got married and immediately left with her husband for medical school in a distant city. She was leaving the security of the nest to begin a family of her own. I wondered: “Did I teach her everything she needs to know? Does she know what is most important in this life? Is she prepared to build a happy home?”
As I watched her drive away, I remembered a little journal I gave her on her 17th birthday. It was entitled “Did I Tell You … ?” In it, I recorded counsel I had often given her in our late-night conversations. As she and her new husband headed for their life together, I thought of three additional entries I wanted to add to that little journal to help her make a transition more important and challenging than that of crossing the country: the transition to starting her own home and family. Let me share these entries to her and to all young people in the Church, to teach and testify of the importance of family.

Several years ago I was visiting a friend. In the morning, she was trying to get her baby’s food ready. I watched the baby cry, oblivious to the fact that her mom was getting her exactly what she wanted and needed. Certainly, this is what a baby should be doing—crying to communicate her needs. However, I have thought of that moment several times since when I have been impatiently waiting. How often when I am waiting do I recognize or look for the pieces that are falling into place exactly as I need them to? Or how often am I unaware of others or my Heavenly Parents working on my behalf?

Like Ammon, eleven-year-old Katrina Dalton of Allen, Texas, has learned how to be a good example to those around her. One day while playing basketball at school, Katrina noticed that some of the kids in her class were saying mean things to a boy who is partially deaf. Katrina made sure that she was kind to him, and she became so concerned about him that she talked privately to the teacher to make her aware of the problem. The teacher was able to stop the bad behavior and later thanked Katrina.

The first part of August 2002 I reached a major milestone in my life. I was passing from middle age to old age with my 80th birthday. To celebrate it I decided to take my children and grandchildren on a tour of Logan, Utah, my hometown, to share with them the impact this city has had on my life.
I designated nine stops in Logan that I wanted my family to see. With each stop I selected a scripture to teach a lesson on the importance that particular location had in my life.
We ended the tour later in the evening at the old Logan Ninth Ward building. We had arranged for a room there in which the family could gather. There was a presentation on my life, including pictures starting with my grandparents, parents, and on through my early life. Then there were pictures of my marriage and of the blessings of children, followed by a collage of pictures of the events we have enjoyed together as a family.
On Sunday morning we attended church in the Ninth Ward chapel. This building was constructed under the supervision of my father while he served as bishop. He was the bishop for 18 years. I had the opportunity that morning to bear my testimony of the blessings of the gospel in my life.
We then drove to our home in Salt Lake City. However, before letting the family enjoy a delicious birthday dinner prepared by my wife, I quizzed them on what they had learned. I again bore witness to the divinity of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Photographs courtesy of the author except where noted
There is peace in Christ
When we learn of Him.
Feel the love He felt for us
When He bore our sins.1
Those are a few of the lyrics from the song “Peace in Christ,” which I played consistently in my home for a full year after my divorce.
My kids may have tired of me playing the same song over and over, but it helped bring me peace through the trials that the four of them and I have endured recently.
“Divorced single mother” is a title I never wished to receive. But life doesn’t always turn out the way you expect, even when you are trying to keep the commandments.
After 16 years of marriage, my husband and I got divorced. I was completely distraught and had to push away thoughts of devastation and worthlessness every morning as I awoke to my new reality. I often wondered if I could have done something differently to avoid this overwhelming course my life had taken.
Because we had moved from Arizona to Idaho several years ago, I had no family nearby to love and support us. I often felt completely and utterly alone in my sorrow.
But I wasn’t alone. The Savior Jesus Christ was with me, even in my darkest days and nights. His face showed through the faces of my ward family. My bishop and his sweet wife met with me and were there the night I realized my husband and I would be getting divorced. They were heartbroken for me and for my children.
My bishop continued to call and check on me in the difficult months that followed that night.
Brother and Sister John ministered to me and my children in so many ways. They have been an example of Christlike love.
My ministering brother had been with us since we first moved to Idaho. He made many efforts to befriend my then-husband. Not only did this good brother visit us monthly, but he also called or texted to offer his assistance when I stubbornly told him I didn’t need anything.
After my separation, he and his wife became ministering partners, and they lovingly, and without judgment, met with me often. They invited us to sit with them at the local Independence Day parade and to join their extended family at a barbecue.
Our ministering brother found out my children’s favorite characters and carved them into plastic pumpkins for Halloween. They have helped us string Christmas lights, prepare our home for winter, spray our weeds, answer the children’s questions about electronics, and dig my van out of the snow. They brought me the softest blanket as a Christmas gift, which has comforted me many nights when I’ve been lonely and uncertain of what life would bring.
But the most important act of service was the many priesthood blessings this kind brother bestowed upon me and my children. He truly was an example of the scripture, “They did watch over their people, and did nourish them with things pertaining to righteousness” (Mosiah 23:18). So many times, when my anxiety felt like it had reached its peak, he and his wife would come over to talk with me, and the conversation would end with my receiving a priesthood blessing.
He gave my children priesthood blessings before the school year started. He participated in my daughter’s confirmation. This loving couple’s generosity has been an example of Christ’s love for me and my kids.
My friendship with my Relief Society president (second from right) and other sisters in Relief Society has become one of the most amazing blessings in my life.
I also saw Christ in the face of my angelic Relief Society president. As soon as she heard I was struggling, she took me to lunch and let me spill my emotions and found ways to relate to me with her own life experiences. She texts me often to make sure my children and I are OK. She and two other women in my ward began inviting me to dinner, to go on walks, and to attend the temple with them. They’ve helped steam-clean my carpets and paint rooms. One of them taught me to dye and cut my own hair so that I could be more self-sufficient. The four of us have created a bond and friendship I never knew was possible during such a difficult trial. Their friendship has become one of the most amazing blessings in my life.
As Sister Elaine S. Dalton, former Young Women General President, said, “Your righteous influence and friendship can have an eternal effect not only on the lives of your associates but also on generations to come.”2 These ladies have made a profound impact not only on my life but on the lives of my children as well; they buoy me up and give me the strength to remain the mother my children need me to be.
Our bishop regularly checked on me and my children.
Though the bishop, ministering couple, and Relief Society president were called to serve our family, it never felt like we were an assignment. And so many others, who had no obligation whatsoever, have shown love to our family.
Two anonymous parties delivered gifts to my children at Christmas. The young men have done yard work, a ward member changed the locks on my doors, and a few others helped with my computer. We’ve received coupons to the pool, been treated to fun at a local water park, and been invited to numerous dinners and movie nights where we could relax with friends and be ourselves.
One sister, while babysitting my children, took them to the store to choose birthday presents to give to me. Another sister did the same with my children at Christmastime.
We’ve also received flowers or treats from people even when there hasn’t been a special occasion; they just wanted me to know I’m loved, thought about, and cared for.
I can testify that what President Jean Bingham, Relief Society General President, says is true: “Sometimes we think we have to do something grand and heroic to ‘count’ as serving our neighbors. Yet simple acts of service can have profound effects on others.”3
Even a small gesture helps me know that Christ hasn’t left me alone to deal with the unpredictability my life has become.
Photograph of simulated Bible scene by Welden C. Andersen
There is peace in Christ. When we sincerely and selflessly care for those around us who are struggling with major life challenges, we really can help them feel the unwavering love and peace of our Savior, Jesus Christ.
I know my Heavenly Father has blessed me and my little family as we made the trek away from family in Arizona to live among strangers in Idaho. Those strangers have become like family. Their Christlike love and examples have helped to keep us strong and where we need to be.
My children and I are eager to serve after seeing how much service impacted our lives. We are living testimonies of what can happen when disciples of Christ follow the pattern of ministering taught in Moroni 6:4: “Their names were taken, that they might be remembered and nourished by the good word of God, to keep them in the right way, to keep them continually watchful unto prayer, relying alone upon the merits of Christ, who was the author and the finisher of their faith.”
I am grateful for my ward family, who remembered and nourished us so that we could keep our hearts turned to the Savior.

“While of these emblems we partake,”1 we began to sing. I wished we were singing a little faster, but I focused on the ordinance.
A calm came over me, settling my soul. The tone and meter of the organ were exactly appropriate to prepare us for the sacrament.
I looked with gratitude at our organist as he reverently swayed with the music. I thought back to our first meeting eight years earlier. Just a few months before we met, wildfires had destroyed Ed Bravenec’s home, along with most of his family’s possessions. As the missionaries and I shared a gospel discussion in his new mobile home, Brother Bravenec told us he played the organ.
“I play to express my testimony and love of God,” he said. Then we talked about whether he might play for our ward should he join the Church.
I looked at the ends of his fingers. A couple of them had been amputated. I was inspired by his faith, but I wondered about his capacity to play.
“I know that the Church would be grateful for you to share your gifts,” I said.
Brother Bravenec was satisfied with my response, and we went on to enjoy a good lesson and the beginning of a firm friendship. He was soon baptized and, as he had desired, became our ward organist.
Over the years since his baptism, I have watched as his health challenges led to the amputation of one of his toes. Not long after that, Sister Bravenec, who returned to Church activity when her husband became a member, was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. Then Brother Bravenec lost another toe.
We missed him for a few weeks as he cared for his wife and struggled through his ordeal. But soon he returned to church, sharing his testimony through the beautiful strains of the organ.
In 2019, Brother Bravenec learned that he would lose one of his legs. I was sad for him, thinking that his years at the organ had come to an end. But a few weeks after the surgery, Brother Bravenec hobbled into church on his new prosthetic leg.
Using canes to keep his balance, he slowly made his way to the organ. There, he sat on the organ bench, removed his prosthetic limb, and began playing the prelude music. A few minutes later, he played the opening hymn. Now it was time for the sacrament.
“In Jesus’ name and for his sake,” we sang—tone and meter perfect.

It is being able to talk in the language of music when other languages are not shared that intrigues these young people. Sarah said, “Last year I had a friend who was a piano major. We met some Africans who had come here, and they couldn’t speak English. We all went to a practice room and sort of talked by way of the music. They would just play pieces; then my friend would play something for them. Everyone could understand. It was like we were talking through music.”

I will never forget the family home evening lesson we had during a power outage. Without power we could not read anything, and I thought that family home evening was going to be a disaster.
“How will we have family home evening without being able to read a message from the Liahona, or how will we be able to sing from the hymnbooks without light?” I thought to myself.
Fortunately my sister came to the rescue. She had the great idea for us to sing the hymns we knew by heart and then share what we had learned the Sunday before. We all shared a principle and learned from one another. In my opinion, learning together is the purpose of family home evening. I am certain that the Lord was very pleased that we kept the commandment to have family home evening, even without lights.

Bob and Shauna were newlyweds who lived off campus in a humble ward in Provo. During his second year of graduate school and while Shauna was carrying their first child, Bob lost his part-time job. Shauna became very despondent, uncertain of how they would properly care for their expected baby. One evening while Bob was away at class, Shauna spent the evening on her knees, tearfully pleading for the Lord’s help. Her prayer was interrupted by a soft knock on the back door. She opened the door cautiously and peered out, encountering a large box of groceries neatly overlaid with used but clean and serviceable baby clothing. Bob and Shauna never found out who their thoughtful neighbors were. Several struggling young couples in the ward were preparing themselves to live the law of consecration by silently gathering and sharing part of their surplus, even though it was very meager, with those in need.

Carlos was just about your size when his parents sent him to Mexico to stay with his grandmother. Carlos’s family was moving to a different part of Colorado, and Carlos’s father told him that as soon as they had found a new house and moved into it, they would send for him.
Carlos’s Uncle Pablo drove him to Mexico. They traveled over hot, dusty roads and through deserts and mountains. Finally, in one little village next to the mountains, his uncle smiled at Carlos and said, “We’re here.”
As they pulled up in front of a tiny white adobe house, chickens scattered in every direction, flapping their wings and squawking at the car and its passengers.
An old lady came out of the house. She had dark brown skin and white hair. Carlos’s uncle threw his arms around her and kissed her cheek.
“Carlos,” his uncle said, “do you remember your grandmother?”
“Bienvenido (welcome), Carlos.” The woman smiled at him.
Carlos just stood there. He hadn’t been with his grandmother since he was a baby, and he didn’t remember her at all. Finally he looked up at his uncle. “Uncle Pablo, I don’t want to be here!” Carlos whispered, even though he knew his grandmother couldn’t understand English.
“Now, Carlos, remember that you agreed to give it a try here. It’s just for a little while,” Uncle Pablo said. “Here, see if you’re strong enough to carry this into the house.” Pablo took the old, battered suitcase out of the car and handed it to Carlos.
Carlos dropped the suitcase just inside the door. He walked through both rooms of the house. The wooden furniture looked strange to him, as did the pictures with beads hanging from them on the walls. In the middle of the larger room stood a tall, wooden machine with rows of yarn going up and down; on the floor around it lay several balls of colorful yarn.
Carlos walked out the back door and into the cooking shed, where black pots and pans hung on the wall and firewood was piled in the corner. He saw that his uncle and grandmother were still talking, and he decided that somehow he’d think of a way to get his uncle to take him back to Colorado.
Carlos went through the backyard to the other side of the house. He saw some boys playing in the street and walked closer to watch them. Suddenly a dog ran up and started barking at him. The boys stopped playing, and one of them called the dog. They all yelled a greeting to Carlos, but he couldn’t understand them. They called again, and when he still didn’t respond, they started to laugh.
Carlos turned and ran away from them. I can’t help it if I don’t understand Spanish! he thought.
Carlos ran through the village and didn’t stop until he’d climbed a small hill. From the top of the hill he could see his grandmother’s house. “Oh no!” he agonized. “Uncle Pablo’s car is gone!”
The sinking sun had turned the faraway clouds into a red, orange, and pink sunset before Carlos returned to his grandmother’s house. She was busy making dinner in the cooking shed. When she looked up and saw Carlos, she put down the bowl she was holding and grasped his shoulders. “Carlos!” she cried, then went on excitedly in Spanish. Carlos didn’t understand her words, but he understood that she had been worried about him and that he wasn’t to wander off again without telling her. Grown-ups are all alike in every language, Carlos decided.
During dinner Grandma tried teaching him the names of the things that she pointed to: mesa (table), plato (plate), tenedor (fork), pan (bread), frijoles (beans), arroz (rice), limonada (lemonade). Carlos just picked at his food. When his mother made Mexican food, it was always a treat, but now all he wanted was a hamburger with catsup and mustard and pickles.
After dinner Grandma worked at her loom by the dim light of a kerosene lamp, weaving fabric from the colorful yarns. As she worked, she sang softly and looked up every few minutes to smile at Carlos. Carlos sat on the floor watching his grandmother, wishing that she had a television set.
Grandma let Carlos sleep in the only bed in the house. She covered him with a sheet, let down the mosquito netting, then tucked its edges under the mattress. “Buenas noches (good night), Carlos.” She went into the other room and put out the lamp.
Darkness closed in on Carlos. Crickets chirped nearby. He turned over and looked out the window at a bright star and wondered if that same star was shining down on his parents. All day he had fought tears, but he couldn’t stop them anymore. Soon he was sobbing out of control.
Grandma lighted the kerosene lamp again and came into the room. Lifting the mosquito netting and sitting on the bed next to Carlos, she pulled him up into her arms. “Carlos, Carlos.” She put her soft cheek against his forehead and gently rocked back and forth, humming softly.
“I want my dad … and my mom,” Carlos sobbed.
Grandma got up, took his hand, and led him to a wooden chest in the other room. From the chest she took brightly colored fabric and soft-colored dresses and placed them aside. Then she took out what looked like a small, woven blanket with broad stripes of green, red, white, and orange. One of the corners was slightly burned. She held it out for Carlos to take. “Sarape (serape),” she said.
Then the old woman brought out something wrapped in white lace. She took off the lace, revealing a book. Smiling at Carlos, she opened the book so that he could see it. Black and white photographs filled each page. She turned the pages slowly, smiling at pictures of a bride and a groom and babies. Pointing to a picture of a young boy, she said, “Tu papi (your daddy).”
Carlos looked closely at the picture. It was like looking at himself. It was his father, standing with the same sarape over his shoulder. Also in the picture was a beautiful young woman with her arm around him.
Carlos ran his fingers over the coarse fabric of the sarape. His father’s fingers had probably felt this fabric the same way when they were the same size as Carlos’s were now.
He looked up from the picture at his grandmother. She wore her white hair pulled back in a bun—the same way it was in the picture—only then her hair had been black. She’s still pretty, Carlos decided.
As he looked at his grandmother, she smiled, but a tear ran down her cheek too. Suddenly Carlos understood that she loved his father as much as he did and that she was as lonely for him as he was.
“Grandma,” Carlos said simply, putting his arms around her.
Tears came to both their eyes, but this time they were tears of joy.
When Grandma had tucked Carlos back into bed, she placed the sarape on the end of the bed.
“Thank you, Grandma,” Carlos said, smiling up at her. “Everything is going to be good, I can tell.”
Grandma smiled at Carlos, then bent down and gently kissed him good night. “Te quiero mucho (I love you a lot), Carlos.”

Kevin sat on the kitchen floor trying to tie his shoelaces.
“Over and under and pull both ends,” he said to himself. Then, he carefully made a “bunny-ear” loop with one lace and wrapped the other lace around it. He tried to find the place to poke the other bunny ear through but it had disappeared.
Kevin felt as though he had too many fingers. “I can’t do it,” he said to Mother who was washing the breakfast dishes. “I’ll never be able to tie my shoelaces.” He yanked off his shoes and threw them angrily on the floor.
“I’m sure you can tie them,” Mother said smiling. “Just try and try again.”
“No, it’s too hard. I’m tired of trying.”
Kevin went to his closet and pulled on his cowboy boots. He put on his T-shirt with a picture of a smiley face on it to make him feel better. Then he went outside and sat on the front porch steps. He was still too upset to play.
Then Kevin thought of something. If he could learn to ride his tricycle, maybe he could learn to tie his shoelaces too.
He thought of the little gray spider trying over and over again to start its web. It didn’t give up, and now it was busy spinning itself a home.
He thought of the tiny ant struggling to carry a heavy bread crumb home to its family. And the ant finally made it! The ants were probably having a dinner of bread crumbs right now.
Kevin went back into the kitchen, sat down, and put on his shoes.
For a long time he fumbled with the laces on his left shoe. But he didn’t give up. At last, two loops stood out like perfect bunny ears on each side of the shoe.
“I did it! I did it!” Kevin shouted to Mother. She turned off the mixer that she was using to whip up a pudding for lunch.
“You did! You tied your shoe!” Mother said excitedly. “I knew that all you had to do was keep trying.”
“I just tied and tied again,” Kevin said with a big smile. And he and Mother both laughed as Kevin began tying his other shoe.

My poor bones! I had the bone marrow test yesterday. Pain! First they deadened my hip, and then they went in and deadened the membrane around the bone. After that they drilled into the bone by twisting a needle until it penetrated the inner membrane. That’s what hurt. I have to do it again Friday.
Something else happened yesterday, something nearly as bad as the bone marrow test. One of the interns came into my room while I was reading my Book of Mormon and asked me if I was a Mormon. When I told him I was, he tried to tell me how foolish I was. He was a little bitter toward the Church and told me something about a brother who had joined. I told him I knew the Church was true.
“Why don’t you call your missionaries then and have them come and give you a blessing?” he asked.
I told him the missionaries were on their way right then.
“And you really think that will help?”
I told him I knew that if my Father in Heaven wanted me to get well, I would.
“You don’t know what you have!” he shouted. He was angry. “You’ll be dead in six months no matter what you do!” When he realized what he had said, a shocked look came on his face. I asked him to leave.
When the missionaries came, they gave me a comfort blessing, but no promise. It helped, and I was able to sleep for a while, but when it came time for the operation, I was petrified. When they took me to the operating room, I walked down the hall like a zombie.

Houston Chinweoke Nmeribe and Raymond Idio Egbo have a lot in common. Although they did not meet and begin their friendship until they were serving missions, both converted to the Church in their homeland of Nigeria. Both were baptized in their youth, completed four years of seminary, and served full-time missions in the Nigeria Lagos Mission, where approximately 80 percent of the missionaries are native Nigerians. And while they both faced challenges and difficulties as they worked to serve the Lord full-time, both were blessed because they had prepared in advance and decided to choose the right.
Both Houston and Raymond credit attending seminary, which is held Tuesday through Friday evenings in Nigeria, with helping them make the right choices. “Seminary made me desire to go on a mission in the first place,” recalls Raymond.
“Seminary made it easy for me to understand the gospel principles and doctrines I would teach on my mission,” Houston says. “Seminary teaches principles in a way members can understand them. It convinced me of the truthfulness of the gospel and helped me to be able to teach others.”
Seminary also helped these young men learn to study and receive strength from the scriptures. “My strength is drawn from the Book of Mormon,” states Raymond. “The words of King Benjamin in Mosiah 2:41 gave me the zeal to continue even in the face of great opposition: ‘I would desire that ye should consider on the blessed and happy state of those that keep the commandments of God.’”
Houston’s strength comes from reading and pondering about the Savior. “As a missionary, I saw myself as one who was called not only to serve Christ but to follow His example,” he explains. “Whenever I had difficulties, I remembered that Jesus Christ suffered and overcame many difficulties. I draw my strength and resolve from Him, so that, like Him, I can also overcome.”
These two young men realized even before their missions the importance of obedience—especially obedience to mission rules. Houston explains, “I viewed obeying the rules as keeping God’s commandments. When I started my mission, I had a clear vision of what I wanted to accomplish. I would do everything in my power to succeed. I fasted and prayed often for strength to choose the right. I decided very early in my mission to work hard.”
Raymond continues, “I realized early on that ‘hard work is more important than intellect’ (James E. Faust, “What I Want My Son to Know before He Leaves on His Mission,” Ensign, May 1996, 40). I tried to develop spiritually by intensifying my study of the Book of Mormon. I resolved from the beginning to obey the mission rules and prepare myself by studying and working to the best of my ability.”
All of their preparation was put to use as soon as they arrived in the mission field. Their preparation did not, however, prevent them from suffering opposition. But it did give them strength to keep trying.
Houston reported to the Nigeria Lagos Mission in April 1994. His first proselyting area, Agege, covered an expansive territory. The closest branch was in Ogba, four kilometers away. Because of the distance between the two towns, it was difficult for investigators to attend the number of Church meetings required for baptism. Houston and his companion completed almost four months of persistent hard work without a single baptism. But after redoubling their efforts, they found and prepared a family of five for baptism.
“One Saturday afternoon, as my companion and I were waiting to board a vehicle to witness my first convert baptism,” Houston recalls, “the assistants to the mission president drove up and informed me that I was being transferred. A new companion replaced me immediately, and I proceeded to Benin. I initially felt quite unhappy that I didn’t see the baptism of my first converts, but I later realized that what mattered most was their conversion.”
It was Houston’s transfer to the Benin City stake that introduced him to Raymond. Raymond arrived in Benin a few days later directly from his missionary training in Lagos. Houston joined Raymond and his companion to proselyte on Raymond’s first day. When Raymond expressed his fear about teaching a discussion on his first day, he remembers Houston’s encouragement: “Elder, go ahead and do it. I had the same experience. If I did it, you can do it, too.”
Raymond recalls, “I was filled with strength and confidence. And when I finished the discussion, Houston tapped me on the knee and said, ‘Elder, you came out okay.’ This experience kindled a feeling of respect for him. And as our paths have crossed many times since our missions, that feeling has only increased.”
Four months later, Raymond was transferred to Lagos where he became a senior companion. “After three months in Lagos without a baptism, I felt inadequate as a leader,” he says. “We had to put forth extra effort. It came time to report to the mission president. He advised me to pray for our investigators.
“Seven of our 14 investigators decided to be baptized,” Raymond remembers. “Two weeks before the baptism, I received a note from the assistants to the president informing me to prepare for a transfer.” This time it was Raymond who was unable to be at the baptisms. “Within a month, all 14 were baptized. I felt bad that I missed those baptisms. However, I accepted the Lord’s will—some will plant, others will water, and yet others will harvest, but all are working for the Lord of the vineyard.”
Doing the Lord’s work also includes dealing with challenges. But as Raymond and Houston learned, the Lord does provide a way.
“When I became an assistant to the mission president, it was difficult initially,” recalls Houston. “I had to train missionaries, including some who had more education than I had. I felt inadequate until I prayed and received a testimony that ‘whom the Lord calls, the Lord qualifies’ (Thomas S. Monson quoting Harold B. Lee, “Who Honors God, God Honors,” Ensign, November 1995, 50). This knowledge helped me proceed.”
For Raymond, developing patience was difficult. “It was hard to see people who have been taught correct principles, who know their responsibilities but fail to do them,” he remembers. “I coped with this situation by reminding myself to make sure that the Lord can count on me to choose the right.”
For Houston Nmeribe and Raymond Egbo, the best mission moments were when they saw investigators come unto Christ through baptism and become members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. For both, the feeling that comes with these moments still lingers, even a few years after returning from their missions.
Their service in the kingdom, however, is far from over. They continue to be blessed for their choice to serve the Lord. Houston Chinweoke Nmeribe serves as elders quorum president in the Calabar Third Branch, Calabar Nigeria District. Raymond Idio Egbo serves as Calabar Second Branch mission leader and second counselor in the district mission presidency.

I was in despair and needed strength beyond my own.
I had recently gotten divorced from my husband and still had an unhealthy relationship with him. I had also just given birth to a baby girl, but after praying and pondering about my unique circumstances, I made the difficult decision to put her up for adoption because I felt like I wouldn’t be able to raise and support her on my own.
My self-worth was at its lowest point.
Grieving the loss of my marriage and baby girl at the same time was almost unbearable. I believed in eternal families, but my divorce and adoption placements were final, and there was no hope of being a family with these two people in the eternities. The pain felt truly overwhelming.
Through all the pain, I stayed active in the Church, being the best disciple of Christ I knew how to be. Nevertheless, I could not seem to break my unhealthy relationship with my ex-husband, which often occurs in a cycle of emotional abuse (like the one I was in). I knew logically that I needed to set stricter boundaries for myself with him, but I could not make myself do it.
I talked to my bishop about my situation and how I felt like my ex-husband had an unseen hold on me. In his attempts to support me, my bishop asked questions like, “Are you going to church every week?” “Are you faithfully magnifying your callings?” “Are you saying your prayers daily?”
I was able to answer yes to all these questions.
But then he asked, “Are you reading the Book of Mormon regularly?”
I admitted I was not.
He challenged me to start reading it, and I did.
When I got to Jacob chapter 2, the messages really started to resonate with me.
Jacob’s soul was burdened because of the strict commandment he had received from God—to admonish his brethren according to their crimes. Jacob 2:7 says, “It grieveth me that I must use so much boldness of speech concerning you, before your wives and your children, many of whose feelings are exceedingly tender and chaste and delicate before God, which thing is pleasing unto God.”
Jacob 2:35 says, “Ye have broken the hearts of your tender wives, and lost the confidence of your children, because of your bad examples before them; and the sobbings of their hearts ascend up to God against you.”
As I read, the Spirit testified to me that God was aware of my situation. God knew I was one of the tender wives whose hearts were broken. I shed many tears over my situation.
I experienced increased hope and fortitude as I continued to study the Book of Mormon faithfully. I journaled my thoughts and the truths I learned as I read. Within just a few weeks, I felt stronger than I had ever felt in my life! I found the strength and power to see clearly and begin to let go of my grief, and I was able to start moving forward. I knew this power came from studying the Book of Mormon.
President Russell M. Nelson recently taught: “Few things build faith more than does regular immersion in the Book of Mormon. No other book testifies of Jesus Christ with such power and clarity. Its prophets, as inspired by the Lord, saw our day and selected the doctrine and truths that would help us most. The Book of Mormon is our latter-day survival guide.”1
When I heard our prophet say this, I realized we receive strength from reading the Book of Mormon because it testifies of Jesus Christ with more power than any other book. Jesus Christ is the source of strength! And regular immersion in the Book of Mormon builds our faith, which gives us the power to face and overcome challenges.
I am so grateful I was blessed with the strength to break the unhealthy cycle with my ex-husband. It took a while for me to forgive him, but as I continued to study the Book of Mormon, I learned it was possible for me to forgive through the power of Jesus Christ’s Atonement.

After nearly two years in the refugee camp, her life took another turn. Muriel and the rest of her family moved to the United States to start a new chapter in a new land. For all she had seen and lived through, Muriel was still only eight years old.
That’s when her parents decided to find a new church to attend.
“I learned to care for young children when I was still a child myself. I had to! My parents needed my help.”
“My Mom and Dad always wanted to worship God and give thanks to Him,” Muriel says. “One Sunday, not long after we arrived in the United States, they said, ‘Let’s go look for a church.’”
They didn’t have to look far. While walking around town they came across two missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on the street.
Before long, Muriel was baptized along with her parents. Muriel’s younger siblings were baptized once they were old enough.
Muriel with her mother and youngest sibling.
A lot of what she learned at church was familiar to Muriel, who’d been taught about God and Jesus Christ her whole life. Other topics were new. “I’d never heard of Joseph Smith or Brigham Young or the Book of Mormon,” she said.
Those weren’t the only new things. There was a whole new culture to learn. Here, Church members made a big difference. They taught the family how to use some of the electronic devices and appliances that were different from back home. They helped with the language. And they helped most of all by simply being friends.
Muriel encourages youth today to do the same thing. “Refugees need friends too. Our family didn’t have any friends when we came to this country, but once we joined the Church, we had so many people visit us! Now we have many friends.”
Over the years, Muriel has been able to help serve those same friends who blessed her life early on.
After she entered Young Women, Muriel served in class presidencies and assisted with all kinds of youth activities. She served and taught and shared her testimony.
Through faith in the gospel, Muriel and her family continue to find hope even during life’s struggles.
But one of the best ways she continues to help her friends is by lending her strength in the gospel and her faith in God.
“Some of my friends are struggling to find hope right now,” she says. “But I always tell them, nothing bad lasts forever. For me, I feel like there’s nothing God can’t get you through.
“Sometimes all I can pray for is courage to hold on longer. To keep pushing on. God has always helped me find that courage. For the most part, the blessing of courage to keep pushing ahead is all you really need.”

There’s a roar of a small engine from Norma Bench’s Riverton, Utah, backyard. It means only one thing. Randy’s there. The noise is from the lawn mower.
It’s Tuesday, and Tuesday is the day Randy Johanson cuts Norma’s lawn. Well, Tuesdays and Saturdays. Why mow the grass just once a week when two cuts make it look so much better?
“I like to mulch her lawn so it doesn’t get too long and leave clumps on the grass. That doesn’t look good,” says Randy matter-of-factly.
No it doesn’t. But imagine what the lawn would look like if Randy wasn’t taking such immaculate care of it.
“He’s certainly been a lifesaver to me,” says Norma.
When it seemed as if Norma Bench’s world was falling apart, a 12-year-old deacon helped her realize things weren’t so bleak after all.
One week after Norma’s son, Brian, received his mission call to the Brazil Recife South Mission in August of 1994, her husband, Gail, died of cancer. So when Brian left for his mission, Norma was all alone.
Then another trial came her way. While helping her brother move some things, Norma fell and shattered her femur in six places. As accidents go, this one was a doozy. Doctors inserted 13 screws into her leg, and she was told she wouldn’t be up and at ’em any time soon.
Next, word came that Brian had to come home from his mission early because of medical problems that couldn’t be treated in Brazil. Norma had a lot on her mind.
During her ten-day hospital stay, she lay in bed, unable to move, pondering her situation. One of the things she worried about was who was going to take care of things around her house. She certainly couldn’t, and Brian’s condition would prevent him. But Randy had it figured out.
Randy, a member of the Riverton Fifth Ward, had been mowing the Benches’ lawn since he was ten. With Norma laid up, he just added the weeding, trimming, and general repair to his list of things to do.
“I’m happy about working for her because it’s nice to do a lot of things for neat people,” he says.
What Randy fails to mention is that he’s working for free—if you don’t count the occasional can of soda or ice cream bar that Norma gives him.
“I’ve tried to pay him,” Norma says. “I’ll hand him some money, and he says no. He’s such a good example for me. He sees things, and he knows what has to be done. He’s just a neat kid.”
Once, when Norma was still on crutches, she dropped a drinking straw to the floor. Unable to pick it up, she asked Randy if he would. The next thing Norma knew, Randy had the vacuum going through the house.
“That’s just the way he is,” says Randy’s mother, Debra. “He learned to work with his dad when he was two years old. I’ve got pictures of him helping his dad push the lawn mower.”
Norma Bench is doing much better now. It’s been more than a year since her fall, and she’s able to get around again. But Randy is still one of the constants in her life. When a tree needs to be trimmed, he’s there. When a winter storm rolls in, there’s Randy shoveling her driveway.
“I have a responsibility,” he adds. “I have the priesthood, and I’m learning more things about the Church all the time, and I feel that I can do a lot more things,” he says.
He’s right about that. But you’d have a hard time convincing Norma that Randy could do any more than he’s already doing.

The first missionaries sent to black Africa were Rendell and Rachel Mabey and Ted and Janath Cannon. They arrived in Nigeria just five months after the revelation. Their first baptism was Anthony Obinna, who had waited and pleaded for membership for thirteen years. In 1965 Brother Obinna had a dream that he did not understand but which impressed him deeply. He said: "One night I was sleeping and a tall man came to me and took me to one of the most beautiful buildings and showed me all the rooms. Then in 1970 I found [a] Reader's Digest article titled, "The March of the Mormons," with a picture of the Salt Lake Temple. It was exactly the same building that I had seen in my dreams." Immediately Brother Obinna wrote to Church headquarters requesting literature and baptism. He received literature, organized a congregation and continued writing letters requesting baptism. Finally, after years of pleading, he wrote directly to the Council of Twelve saying: "Your long silence about the establishment of the Church in Nigeria is very embarrassing. Did Christ not say, 'Go ye and teach all nations?" It is not often that the Brethren are chastised by nonmembers for not baptizing converts? However, when Brother Obinna learned that the revelation had been received he wrote the following to President Kimball: "We are happy for the many hours in the Upper Room of the Temple you spent supplicating the Lord to bring us into the fold. We thank our Heavenly Father for hearing your prayers and ours and by revelation has confirmed the long promised day to receive every blessing of the gospel." On the day Brother Obinna was baptized he was ordained to the Priesthood and set apart as the first black African branch president and Sister Obinna became the first Relief Society president. Soon after his baptism, Brother Obinna prophesied: "The seed of the gospel will grow into a giant tree. The Church in Nigeria will surprise the world in its growth."

And so it has.

The day I got sick and threw up at school was my worst day. It was also my best day. That’s the day Rosella became my best friend. I was feeling sick and stupid, and she just walked over, got some paper towels, and started helping me clean up the floor. When I told her she didn’t have to do that, she said, “Oh, I’m going to be a doctor when I grow up, and this doesn’t bother me at all.” When school was over, she walked home with me.
It seemed that Rosella wasn’t ever afraid of things. Once she rescued a nonpoisonous snake from some boys who were being mean to it. She carried the snake all the way home so it could live in some bushes in her backyard. I kept watching the snake and its beady, black eyes and wondering if it was going to reach around and bite her. But Rosella didn’t seem worried at all.
One day Rosella and I were sitting next to each other during music class. We were practicing songs for the spring program when the intercom crackled and the principal’s voice asked the music teacher to please come to the office. The teacher told everyone to behave. He said he would be back in a minute, but he was gone a long time.
Some of the boys in the class began throwing wads of paper at the trash can on the other side of the room. Soon the floor was littered with paper.
One of the boys who was throwing paper looked at a boy named Alan and said, “Alan, look at that mess you made. You’d better go pick up those papers.”
Alan hadn’t thrown any paper at all, but he didn’t argue. He just nodded, got up from his chair, and began picking up the paper. It took him a long time because he picked up one wad at a time. Alan had crooked glasses, and his hair stood up in tufts all over his head. Something happened when he was born, and he didn’t get enough oxygen. Because of that he had a hard time learning. Sometimes he tripped or made mistakes. But he wanted to be friends with everyone, and he smiled a lot.
After Alan had picked up all the paper, he walked back to his chair. The other boys were all grinning. When Alan turned to sit down, one of them reached over and yanked the chair out from under him. Alan sat down on the floor. Hard. You could see it hurt him because tears came to his eyes. But when the boys all started laughing, Alan tried to laugh too.
The next thing I knew, Rosella was standing up. She marched across the room and stood in front of those boys, glaring at them. Then she reached out her hand and helped Alan get into his chair. The whole class was silent. She asked Alan if he was hurt, and he shook his head. Then she put her hands on her hips. “Being mean to people is a really chicken way of trying to be funny,” she told the boys.
They just looked at her. She didn’t sound mean or angry, but everyone knew she meant it.
Then Rosella turned around and walked back to her chair. The class was dead quiet. I wondered what the boys would do. They usually didn’t like being told what to do, especially by a girl. I kept hoping the teacher would come back before anything else happened. Then one of the boys looked over at Alan. “Sorry we yanked your chair,” he said.
Alan folded his hands together and smiled big. “It’s OK. I have friends.” He looked over at Rosella.
Just then the teacher walked in. No one said anything about the paper, and class continued as usual. When Rosella picked up her music, I could see that her hands were shaking, but she had a quiet look on her face.
Our class began practicing. I could hear the piano playing and the class singing, but I was thinking about Rosella. I was thinking about how she stood up for Alan even though she was probably scared. I looked at Rosella singing the song and then over at Alan. Then I understood—being brave doesn’t mean you’re not scared. Being brave means doing the right thing even if you are scared.

One Sunday when I was a deacon, I was in the foyer with a tray of water passing the sacrament when a woman walked into the building. Dutifully, I approached and handed her the tray. She nodded, smiled, and took a cup of water. She had arrived too late to receive the bread. Shortly after this experience, my home teacher, Ned Brimley, taught me that many aspects and blessings of the gospel of Jesus Christ are given to us in sequential order.
Later that week, Ned and his companion came to our home with a memorable lesson. Ned reminded us that there was order to how God created the earth. The Lord took great care in explaining to Moses the order in which He created the earth. First, He started by dividing the light from the darkness, then water from dry land. He added plant life and animals before introducing to the newly formed planet His greatest creation: humankind, beginning with Adam and Eve.
“So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them. …
“And God saw every thing that he had made, and, behold, it was very good” (Genesis 1:27, 31).
The Lord was pleased. And He rested on the seventh day.
The sequential order in which the earth was created gives us a glimpse not only of what is most important to God but also why and for whom He created the earth.
Ned Brimley punctuated his inspired lesson with a simple statement: “Vai, God’s house is one of order. He expects you to live your life with order. In proper sequence. He wants you to serve a mission before you get married.” To this point, Church leaders currently teach that “the Lord expects each able young man to prepare to serve. … Young women … who desire to serve should also prepare” (General Handbook: Serving in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 24.0, ChurchofJesusChrist.org). Brother Brimley continued: “God wants you to get married before you have children. And He wants you to continually develop your talents as you earn an education.” If you choose to live your life out of sequence, you will find life more difficult and chaotic.
Brother Brimley also taught us that through His atoning sacrifice, the Savior helps us to restore order to our lives made chaotic or out of sequence by our own or others’ poor choices.