Gospel Story Finder

As Brother Nakamura gained experience in the Church, the idea of being sealed in the temple and of serving the Lord in that sacred building grew in his heart. Then, in 1973 (about seven years before the Tokyo Temple was dedicated), the Nakamura family had the opportunity to travel to California to be sealed in the Los Angeles Temple.

While traveling to the temple, they almost missed some airline flights and even wondered whether their airplane would arrive safely. But their prayers for a safe journey were answered. Brother Nakamura says he realizes now how important that trip was. “My main goal after that was to spend time in the temple, especially serving with my wife.”

Romans 8:16 says, “The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God.” The first time I remember feeling with all certainty that Heavenly Father knew me, loved me, and cared for me was when I entered the waters of baptism at age 15. Before then, I knew God existed and Jesus Christ was the Savior of the world. I believed in Them and loved Them, but I had never felt Their love and care for me, individually, until that day as I rejoiced in my opportunity to make baptismal covenants.
I realized what a great miracle it had been to have been found and taught by the missionaries, especially with only a handful of missionaries amongst two million people! I knew then that Heavenly Father knew me and loved me in such a special way that He guided the missionaries to my home.

My former neighbor Elder Neal A. Maxwell described what feasting on the scriptures ought to entail: "For me," he said, "the Book of Mormon is like a vast mansion with gardens, towers, courtyards, and wings. My tour of it has never been completed. Some rooms I have yet to enter, and there are more flaming fireplaces waiting to warm me. . .There are also sumptuous banquet tables painstakingly prepared. . . which await all of us. Yet, we as Church members sometimes behave like hurried tourists, scarcely venturing beyond the entry hall to the mansion."

In his last General Conference Elder Maxwell shared this humorous true story suggesting that even his young grandchildren knew him for his love of the scriptures. He told about the time he visited his grandchildren late one evening. His grandson Robbie had already gone to bed when he arrived. Robbie's mother called to her son: "Robbie, Grandpa Neal is here!" Elder Maxwell heard a tired little voice coming from the bedroom asking, "Shall I bring my scriptures?"

“We didn’t have a lot of material things, but we were rich in the things that mattered. We didn’t have much land, but we squeezed everything onto it. We had chickens and cows and pigs. Raising pigs taught me how to work, and I learned about the law of the harvest. I also discovered that farmers have to work very hard to make money. After our pigs were sold and the cost of raising them was calculated, the profit on them was very little—sometimes nothing.”
Elder Maxwell won so many award ribbons for his prize pigs that when they were pinned to a blanket, they filled its entire surface. “I was proud of those ribbons,” he said. “And I still have that blanket.
“The part I didn’t like about farm work was that you were never through with it. If you milked cows or fed the animals in the morning, you knew that you had to do it again at night. Our turn to use the irrigation water for our crops would often come in the middle of the night. It was hard work, but it was good discipline.”

As I ponder this admonition of the Lord, I am reminded of a special friend. As I have worked with her, I have been inspired by her devotion to her family and church. A large family and an invalid husband didn’t keep her from accepting a leadership responsibility in Relief Society. I asked her how she managed so well. She answered, “My Relief Society sisters help me. Their love lifts my spirit when I feel down; the lessons give me strength and direction. My problems don’t seem so big when they are shared.”

She set a pattern for her day, starting with an early morning prayer while the rest of her family slept. She organized in her mind the duties to be performed that day and asked her Heavenly Father for his help in accomplishing them. Each day ended with a grateful report as she expressed her appreciation and love to her Father in Heaven for his help and the help of kind friends. She felt she could not have accomplished the day’s tasks alone.

What an example this mother has been to her family! She has taught them the power of prayer, the value of being organized, and the joy that comes from serving others and the Lord.

I might mention here an experience of a young couple. This young lady and her husband (they had two children, a tiny girl and a baby two weeks old) graduated from college, and he had a business opportunity in Salt Lake City. So they moved to Salt Lake City.
They, of course, were active in the Church, and Bishop Bowles—it was in the Belvedere Ward—called them in the first week they were there. The bishop said, “We’re building a new building, and we need all the help we can get. Are you willing to serve?” They both said they were. And he said, “Would you like to suggest where you’d like to serve?”
That’s a little unusual in the Church, but she was happy for that. She was a teacher. She said she’d like to teach in the Sunday School or in the Young Women. So the following Sunday she was sustained as second counselor in the presidency of the Relief Society! Now, she protested and used the word shocked, and this is a quote: “That organization is for my mother, not for me.” She said she had no experience, and, I quote again, “I have no desire to learn.”
Well, the bishop prevailed, as bishops will, and she answered the call. They held Relief Society in a dismal room in the basement of the chapel because of remodeling and construction. It was in the furnace room. While the furnace was on, it was terrible, and when the furnace was off, it was intolerable. Her children caught cold. On at least two occasions she went to the bishop and asked to be released. On both occasions the bishop said he’d think about it.
Finally, she was in a very serious automobile accident. After some period of treatment, she was recovering at home. Part of the injury was a terrible laceration of her face. This became infected, and they called a doctor one Sunday night. He made preparation for some further attention, but he said, “I think we can’t touch this surgically; it’s too close to the nerve in your face.” He gave her what attention he could and explained how grave the situation was.
It was as the doctor was leaving that Sunday night when the bishop appeared at the door, after a long, busy day, as Sundays will be for a bishop. He said, “I was just on my way home from some interviews and saw the light on and wondered if there was trouble here.” This woman was in agony. When the bishop said, “Is there anything we can do for you?” she answered from her pain and with tears, “Yes, bishop. Now will you release me from the Relief Society?” He said he would pray about it. And when the answer came back, it was, “Sister Spafford, I still don’t get the feeling that you should be released from the Relief Society.”
This great and lovely woman, who for many years presided over our Relief Society in the Church, was tested in those early days of her life. I think that something like that may come to many of us, most of us, when we’re being tested, as it were.

My military experience came after I had returned from a mission. My companions knew that I had been a missionary, which meant, to them, a minister. I remember lying in my tent, bunked next to a young fellow from Tennessee who would often look at me with a wondering expression. When I would ask him what was troubling him, he would say: “I can’t believe it. As I grew up through my childhood, ministers were people so highly respected that we hardly dared speak to them, and here I find myself sleeping next to one in this tent.”

As some of my companions engaged in practices that Latter-day Saints don’t think highly of, such as smoking or drinking, profanity or immorality, it was evident that they didn’t concern themselves about what the Lord would like them to do. When moments of stress came, however, their attitudes changed. I remember when one of these boys, who was not particularly impressed with the life of a former missionary, was scheduled for what was called an elimination flight, and he knew that if he failed the test that day, he would be eliminated from flying in the United States Air Force. He came to me in a very solemn mood and quietly said with tears in his eyes, “Bill, please pray for me. I need it.”

One day my instructor was giving an explanation to five of us in the ready room. In order to explain a certain maneuver, he went to the blackboard. Inasmuch as he was smoking a cigarette, he handed it to me to hold while he made the demonstration, and by this means I had the “privilege” of holding my first cigarette. After he had finished his demonstration at the blackboard, he took his cigarette back, and then he said, “Mr. Bangerter, I apologize for handing you my cigarette. I know you don’t smoke, do you?”

I said, “No, sir, I don’t.”

He said, “You don’t drink either, do you?”

I said, “No, sir.”

He asked, “Do you drink tea?”

“No, sir.”

“Do you drink coffee?”

“No, sir.” He turned to the other four students standing together and said, “Now, men, that’s the Word of Wisdom. We would all be much better off if we lived that way.” You can appreciate that I felt uplifted by that experience.

Another day I was riding in the airplane with my squadron commander. I was about 23 years old, and he was about 40. He was a man of fine manners and polite expression. After we had finished our flight and had landed the airplane, we were taxiing back to the parking area when another airplane came driving past in a way that my squadron commander did not appreciate. He looked over at the other pilot and said to me in a disgusted voice, “Where does that so-and-so think he is going!” And he uttered an oath. We parked the airplane and shut off the engine. As I climbed out, he turned to me and said, “Mr. Bangerter, I am sorry I spoke the way I did back there. I forgot for a moment it was you who was riding with me in the airplane.”

Of course, I realized throughout those years that I was considered different. Some people may have thought me strange. Those with whom I associated, however, frequently expressed admiration for the way I lived. I never found it necessary to break my standards, to remove my garments, or to apologize for being a Latter-day Saint. On more than one occasion during our training, my classmates gathered together for a farewell party or some other special event and had a dinner that, of course, was liberally supplied with liquor. Several of my companions would come to me before the dinner and ask me if I would please be so kind as to drive their car home for them because they would not be able to trust themselves at the conclusion of the party.

I can honestly say that no nonmember of the Church has ever tried to induce me to discard my standards. The only people I remember trying to coerce me to abandon my principles or who ridiculed me for my standards have been non-practicing members of the Church.

I know it is a blessing to stand up for the principles of truth and righteousness. People who value their character and their reputation will be honored to be of the chosen generation and to stand out as representatives of a peculiar and a noble people. I hope I may always find young people who are square. They are the solid kind, and their foundations are secure.

Several years ago a young man was caught in a serious act of theft. He was taken to jail. His parents were shocked and embarassed. They assured him that he didn’t need to worry because they had “influence” with people in high positions and were sure they could get him released. Their bishop, though well-meaning, told the boy that he would do all in his power to see that a good boy like him did not have to pay for his crime. The boy finally got angry and said: “Can’t you see what you are doing to me? I am guilty. If you get me released without punishment, you will force me to carry the burden of guilt all the days of my life. Please let me pay for my wrongdoing so that I might eventually be set free from guilt.”
Few gifts are more desirable than a clear conscience—a soul at peace with itself. Only the power of our Savior Jesus Christ can heal a troubled soul. But if we want him to heal us, we must follow the procedure he has given to us.

As a boy I enjoyed working with my Uncle Lyman and Aunt Dorothy on their farm. Uncle Lyman usually led our projects, and Aunt Dorothy often assisted and drove the old Dodge truck. I remember the rush of adrenaline when we got bogged down in the mud or tried to climb a steep hill: Uncle Lyman would yell, “Put ’er in compound, Dorothy!” That’s when I started to pray. Somehow, with the Lord’s help and after some grinding of gears, Aunt Dorothy found compound. With all wheels locked in and churning, the truck lunged forward and our work continued.

My eyes filled with tears as I drove to the hospital for more testing. I had been diagnosed with cancer after the birth of my daughter two years earlier. I had undergone surgery and received treatment, and I was about to find out if the treatments had worked. “Heavenly Father, I have learned a lot from this experience. Please take this trial from me. I want to raise my daughter and one day serve a mission with my husband. Please heal me.”
The tears rolled down my face. Suddenly my prayer changed to the words of the song “A Child’s Prayer.” Something compelled me to speak out loud.
Pray, he is there;
Speak, he is list’ning.
You are his child;
His love now surrounds you.
He hears your prayer.
An overwhelming feeling of love came over me. I felt that Heavenly Father knew me and was concerned about me and was listening to me. I felt that everything would be OK.
I received the results the next day. The tests showed no signs of cancer. I felt a huge burden lifted from me. The following day, however, my doctor called and explained that although the earlier results were clean, the blood test showed I still had significant cancer activity. “How could that be?” I questioned. If this was really what was going on, why had I felt that Heavenly Father had answered my prayer?
I tried to put my doubts aside as I returned for more testing. These results showed not only that I still had cancer but also that the cancer had spread. I couldn’t help but wonder about my experience in the car. I couldn’t deny what I had felt, yet I started to doubt my interpretation.
The new information was overwhelming and caused serious reflection. I felt that I still needed to learn something from this trial. As I pondered, I realized that I had been going through all the motions of an active Latter-day Saint, yet I often did things out of habit rather than sincerity. I was not at the spiritual level where I wanted to be. I needed to return to the basics, so I began focusing on areas that would bring me closer to Jesus Christ. I needed His strength to make it through my trials.
As I put more effort into spiritual matters, my faith in Jesus Christ and His plan for me increased. I realized that my experience while driving to the hospital really was an answer to prayer. As I acknowledge and accept that answer (that everything will be fine), I recognize that Heavenly Father does not always specify when everything will be taken care of. I may never be completely healed physically, but I am learning to accept His will. My life is truly in His hands.
Seven years have passed since I was diagnosed with cancer. I have had numerous surgeries and treatments, yet I still have cancer. Life, however, goes on, and I’m grateful for that. With my trials have come blessings, including a second daughter. Most important, the Lord’s answer that “everything will be fine” still comforts me.
Update: Sister Coston’s latest checkup, at eight years since diagnosis, showed no signs of cancer.

Because her husband was at an early morning priesthood leadership meeting, Mary struggled alone to get her family ready for church. The baby was fussing, little Rebekah could not find one of her shoes, and four-year-old David spilled food down the front of his clean Sunday shirt. Frustrated, Mary felt like giving up and staying at home. Arriving late for church, she was still angry with Rebekah and David, and it was hard for her to feel a spirit of reverence.
Most of us sometimes feel frustrated or impatient. But when we express those feelings by becoming angry with someone, we offend the Spirit. As we try to come unto Christ and perfect ourselves, we should ask ourselves not “What is fair?” but, “What would Jesus have me do?”
Jesus endured great persecution. (See 1 Ne. 19:9.) He even asked forgiveness for those who crucified him. (See Luke 23:34.) Although most of us don’t have to deal with great persecution, we are often “provoked” by small things. Rudeness, disobedience, waiting, disagreements, disappointment, and unfulfilled expectations can irritate us, especially if we are tired, sick, or in a hurry.
At such times, our first feeling may be anger. But we can choose to react with charity instead and not be “easily provoked.” (Moro. 7:45.) We can turn the other cheek (see Matt. 5:38–39) and respond with patience and kindness.
There are things we can to do develop a spirit of charity. We can concentrate on ways to control our anger or impatience. Taking a deep breath and stopping to think for a moment before speaking sometimes helps. Getting in the habit of asking ourselves what Jesus would have us do in the same situation can also help. Prayer and repentance also heal our spirits and fill our hearts with love.
By learning to avoid contention and to control our anger, we stop evil from being passed on to others. We become more like Jesus, whose self-sacrifice made eternal life possible for all who come unto him and follow his example.

Earl was sitting with Mom in the front room. From the corner of his eye, he saw something move outside the window. Earl peeked through the curtains and couldn’t believe what he saw. A woman was picking vegetables out of their garden!
Earl and Mom loved their garden. Two years ago, Earl’s dad had died. One thing that helped Earl and Mom feel better was working in their vegetable garden together. It reminded them of how much Dad liked working in the garden, and how much he loved them. And now someone was taking the vegetables they’d worked so hard to grow!
“Mom! A lady is stealing our vegetables!” Earl shouted. “I’m going to stop her!”
He jumped up and ran for the door. He was going to chase that woman right out of the garden!
“Earl, wait!” Mom said. “I’ll go talk to her.”
Earl looked out the window as Mom and the woman talked. The woman had a sad look on her face. She put her head in her hands, and it looked like she was crying. Mom gave the woman a hug.
What’s going on? Earl wondered.
A few minutes later, Mom walked back into the house.
“What happened?” Earl asked.
“That woman needs our help,” Mom said. “Please go get a box and fill it up with the prettiest vegetables from our garden. Then load it in her car.”
“What?” Earl said. “But she’s stealing!”
“She needs our help, and we have enough vegetables to share. Do you remember what charity is?” Mom asked.
Earl remembered learning about charity in church. “It’s the pure love of Christ,” he said.
“That’s right. Do you think Jesus would share from His garden?”
Earl knew the answer, but he still felt upset as he got a box and walked outside. The woman looked surprised and then a little embarrassed to see Earl. He didn’t say anything. He just looked for the best vegetables he could find. He filled the box full of cucumbers, carrots, and tomatoes, then carried it to the woman’s car. When he turned to walk back inside, Earl saw that the woman’s eyes were filled with tears.
“Thank you,” she said. “I know I shouldn’t have gone into your garden without asking, but my family is hungry, and we don’t have food. Thank you for helping us.”
“You’re welcome,” Earl said. A small smile crossed his face.
Earl didn’t feel angry anymore. He was sad the lady’s family was hungry. And he was glad he could share his vegetables. He could feel the Holy Ghost tell him that Heavenly Father was happy Earl had been kind.

“Wake up, everyone!” Dad called from the hallway. “We’ve overslept!” Mom pulled her robe around her and shuffled into the kitchen to make breakfast. As she opened the curtains, she frowned. “That’s funny,” she said. “The sun is coming up later than usual this morning. But what a beautiful sunrise!” She called everyone into the kitchen to see the bright orange ball coming up through the pink clouds. In spite of their hurry, everyone paused in wonder.
“Gorgeous,” Dad said.
“Wow!” Karen said.
“Awesome,” Julie said.
“Can we have pancakes?” Aaron said.
Mother pulled her attention back from the window to look at Aaron. “I’m not sure we have time for pancakes, but I’ll see what I can do.” She put the frying pan on the stove to heat and started mixing up the batter.
“I wonder why Nicky hasn’t called yet,” Karen wondered aloud. “She usually calls by now to see if I can walk to school with her.”
Dad straightened his tie. “I don’t know, honey, but I’m wondering where the bus is. It’s never been this late before.”
“Those pancakes sure smell good,” Aaron said. “I’ll set the table.”
Mother smiled. “That would be great. But shouldn’t you get dressed first?”
Julie hurried into the kitchen carrying her backpack. “I can’t be late. I have a test today.”
“Then you need a good breakfast,” Aaron pointed out as he put the plates on the table. “And maybe a song or two. And a story.”
Julie stared at him. “What are you talking about? We don’t have time to do all those things.”
“We do today,” Aaron said mysteriously. And he began to hum as he put the forks beside the plates.
Mom and Dad exchanged a puzzled look. “Do you know something we don’t know?” Dad asked Aaron.
Aaron smiled. “Somebody needs to change the calendar,” he said.
“So?” Karen flipped up the next month’s page on the wall calendar. April it said in big letters.
Mom laughed. “It’s April Fools’ Day!”*
“What have you done?” Karen asked.
“I set everyone’s clock ahead an hour.” Aaron beamed. “Now we all have time for a nice big breakfast, a song or two, and a story. Isn’t that a great trick?”
“You mean I could have slept for another hour?” Julie asked. She looked at Aaron, who wasn’t smiling anymore. Now he looked worried.
“You could have. But you would have missed that awesome sunrise,” Mom said.
“And this delicious breakfast,” Karen added.
Julie put down her backpack. “All right, Aaron, you win. I’ll pick out a song to play on the piano.” She patted him on the head before going to the living room.
“And I’ll get my flute.” Karen hurried to her bedroom.
“And I’ll pick out a story,” Dad said, opening his scriptures.
“Mom,” Aaron said softly. “I know you sometimes don’t like it when people play April Fools’ tricks. Are you mad at me?”
“Of course not.” Mom gave Aaron a hug. “What I don’t like is when tricks make other people feel bad. Your trick is great because it’s making us feel good by giving us time to be together. And that’s a wonderful way to start any morning, especially April Fools’ Day!”

We see that power in Ephraim’s experience. Redemption and salvation did not begin for Ephraim in the meetinghouse. Years before that the Lord watched over him, protected him, and blessed him with courage, and resilience, and a talent for learning. After Ephraim was baptized he became a faithful, active member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He experienced many tender mercies, even miracles. For example, He found work at a car wash where he met a couple of taxi drivers. They saw potential in Ephraim and taught him how to drive. This enabled Ephraim to work as a taxi driver at night. That job gave him enough income to rent a place to live and pay for his education and graduate from high school. He still faced many challenges, but the Lord knew Ephraim’s sorrow and pain intimately because He had experienced it too. He also knew Ephraim’s potential and He knew how to strengthen Ephraim and heal his heart and soul perfectly. As a result, Ephraim had no bitterness or anger in his heart about the mistreatment by others in his past. In fact, one of his great desires was to make the restored gospel of Jesus Christ available to his ancestors, including his mother and father. Truly, the Lord Jesus Christ lifted Ephraim up and helped him become a mighty elder in Israel.

I return now to Ephraim’s story. We have already seen in this story that Jesus Christ is a God of miracles. Sometimes, He works His miracles through angels. Ephraim was called as a missionary and assigned to labor in the South Africa Cape Town Mission. His third companion was from Bountiful, Utah. Every preparation day his companion wrote his parents an email. One preparation day he wrote to his parents, “Do you have time to write to my companion? He doesn’t have anyone to write to.” They did. In fact, they wrote to Ephraim every week through the rest of his mission.

When Ephraim completed his mission he went back to the streets of Accra, looked for work, and hoped to get more education. The angel parents of his missionary companion from Bountiful, Utah made arrangements for Ephraim to come to their son’s wedding, and then decided to sponsor him for a student visa that would allow him to study in the U.S. This was an important step in Ephraim’s dream to attend college. Eventually, Ephraim was admitted to Ensign College, and met and married his wife Alexis. In 2022 they welcomed a baby boy into their family, and Ephraim graduated as the Ensign College valedictorian with a bachelor’s degree in accounting. And then another dream came true: he was offered a scholarship to do a master’s degree in accounting at BYU. He completed that degree and graduated from BYU in 2023.

From the time he was a boy, through his teenage years, through his mission, and in his college years, the Holy Ghost ignited the Light of Christ in that young man. His understanding was quickened. His natural gifts and talents were magnified. His capacity to receive revelation increased.

Many years ago when I was practicing law, I organized a company for one of the new car dealers in my area. I served as his legal counsel and a corporate officer for many years; then one of my sons took over my responsibilities as legal counsel. Later we were both at the dealer’s place of business. I noticed the rows of beautiful, shiny, gleaming, expensive new cars. Out of concern I mentioned to the proprietor that if he didn’t get the cars sold, financing charges would be exorbitant and eat up the profits. My son said, “Dad, don’t look at it that way. Look at all the profit the cars will bring.”

While I think he was more accurate than I, it suddenly came to my mind that my son had never been through a depression. We looked at the rows of cars through different eyes because I am a child of the Great Depression. I cannot forget what a merciless taskmaster debt is.

A true story from Peru.
Spencer held Papá’s hand as they walked through the grass. His older sisters walked ahead, gathering rocks and twigs.
“Papá, why do we use things from outside for the Nativity?” Spencer asked.
Papá picked up a piece of moss. “This is something families have done here for a long time. We gather things Heavenly Father has given us in nature to make a place for baby Jesus. It helps us remember that He was born in a humble place.”
Spencer looked at the moss in Papá’s hand. It wasn’t fancy, but it was soft.
When they got home, they gathered around the wooden table in the living room. Papá placed a small clay Mary and Joseph on the table. Now they would use what they found outside to make the stable and the manger. Then, on Christmas Eve they’d add the baby Jesus to the Nativity scene.
Spencer watched as his sisters worked. They added colorful flowers and wove branches into a little fence. They made it look so nice.
Spencer carefully placed some moss on one side of the stable and added a few rocks. But when he looked at what he had made, it didn’t seem as good as what his sisters made. His path looked crooked. His moss wasn’t smooth.
He sighed. “My part doesn’t look very nice,” he said quietly.
Mamá put an arm around him. “Why do you think that?”
“It doesn’t look as good as theirs.”
Papá moved to sit beside him. “Spencer, do you know why we make this Nativity?”
Spencer shook his head.
“To help us feel close to Jesus,” Papá said. “The Savior is the most special part of Christmas. He doesn’t need fancy gifts—just our love and our best efforts.”
Spencer nodded. He looked at his little pile of rocks and moss again. Maybe it wasn’t perfect, but he had done his best.
Over the next few days, they gathered by the table to light a candle and sing Christmas songs. Spencer liked how the manger for baby Jesus stayed empty. It reminded him that they were waiting for something special—just like the shepherds and Wise Men did.
Finally, Christmas Eve came. Mom handed Spencer the tiny clay baby Jesus, and he placed it carefully in the manger.
As Spencer looked at the Nativity, he didn’t worry about how perfect it looked. He thought about Jesus Christ.
Spencer smiled. This year, he had given something to Jesus by doing his best, even when it wasn’t perfect. And he wanted to keep giving—by being kind, loving others, and trying to be more like Him.

Anna Matilda Anderson huddled with her mother and sister, Ida, under the black umbrella. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the train approach. She shivered. This train would take her from Sweden and begin her journey to America.
“Be good and listen to Elder Carlson,” Anna’s mother whispered in Swedish. She held the girls close. Elder Carlson was a missionary who had been serving in Sweden for three years, since Anna was eight. Now it was time for him to return to his family in Idaho, in the United States.
When Mamma had decided to send Anna and Ida to America to escape the persecution in Sweden, Elder Carlson had offered to watch over them. Now he stood by the train. He motioned for the two girls to join him. Ida hugged her mother tightly and moved forward, but Anna stayed behind.
“I love you,” Anna said. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too. Now listen closely. If you come to a place where you can’t understand what the people are saying, don’t forget to pray to your Father in Heaven because He can understand you.”
Still thinking of her mother’s words, Anna got on the train and settled next to Ida and Elder Carlson. She had been excited about her first ride on a train, but now she only wanted one last glimpse of her mother. The train was too tall for her to see people’s faces, but she smiled when she saw her mother’s black umbrella held high above the crowd. It reminded her that Mamma was watching.
With a great bellow of smoke, the train lurched forward. At first it moved so slowly that Mamma ran beside the train. The black umbrella waved at Anna. But soon the black umbrella disappeared from view. Anna leaned against the windowpane and wondered what lay in store.
Several weeks later, Anna leaned against the windowpane of another train. This one was taking her to Salt Lake City, Utah. “America looks different than Sweden, ja?” she said to Ida.
“Ja,” Ida whispered back in Swedish. “But America is home now, and if we work hard enough, we can bring Mamma here too.”
There had not been enough money for Mamma to buy her own ticket. A family in Ogden, Utah, had paid for Ida’s passage to America. Ida would stay with them on their farm and work to repay them. But Anna would be staying with her aunt in Salt Lake City. Anna’s aunt had come to Utah several years earlier, and Mamma had written to tell her that Anna was coming.
After the train, they had taken a boat over the North Sea to Denmark. Then they sailed to England and Ireland before crossing the Atlantic Ocean and landing in New York City. Anna had been seasick for most of the 15-day journey. She had been relieved to board a train in New York headed to Utah.
“Ogden, Utah!” the conductor called. Anna still knew no English, but she recognized the name of the city. Her heart sank. It sank even further when Elder Carlson stood and picked up his and Ida’s bags.
“Do you have to go?” she asked her sister.
“Yes,” Ida said gently. “Don’t worry, Auntie will be there when you get to Salt Lake City.”
Anna watched as Ida and Elder Carlson met his family at the station. They would take Ida in a covered wagon to her new home on the farm and then travel on to Idaho. Now Anna felt truly alone.
The train rumbled through the night until it shuddered to a halt at the station in Salt Lake City. It was nearly midnight. Anna grabbed her bag and leapt down onto the platform. Her tired eyes searched for her aunt.
But there was no one waiting for her.
Fear slid over Anna. She scanned the platform again, hoping she had missed something. Her eyes lingered on the shadows. She tried to make out people’s features in the flickering gaslights. But her aunt was not there.
Strangers walked up to her and asked her questions. Anna thought they wanted to help, but she could not understand what they were saying.
She had never felt so scared in her life. Not when her classmates in Sweden had mocked her new faith. Not when she had been sick on the boat to New York. And not even when she had said good-bye to Mamma.
Anna closed her eyes and thought back to her mother’s words: “Don’t forget to pray to your Father in Heaven because He can understand you.”
Anna knelt on the platform next to her suitcase and prayed harder than she had ever prayed in her life. She prayed that Heavenly Father would send her someone who spoke Swedish and could understand her.
When she finished the prayer, she looked up. There was still no one waiting for her. But then she saw a German family she recognized from the train ride. The mother motioned for her to follow them. Still crying, Anna grabbed her bag and shuffled after them.
She followed them to the south gate of the Temple Square block. She looked at the spot where the beautiful new temple had been built. Then suddenly Anna heard rapid footsteps nearby. A woman was hurrying toward them, looking closely at all the arriving immigrants. The woman’s gaze passed over the German family. Then she paused on Anna. When Anna looked up, the woman stopped and stared. Anna stared back, hope rising in her.
Anna knew her! It was her Sunday School teacher who had gone to Utah only a year before! She knew her!
The teacher pulled Anna tightly into her arms. She wiped away Anna’s tears and whispered in Swedish, “I was awakened over and over again. Images of the arriving immigrants raced through my mind. I could not go back to sleep. I was prompted to come to the temple to see if there was anyone I knew here.” She took Anna’s hand and led her down the street. “Now come with me.”
Later Anna learned that her aunt and uncle had moved from Salt Lake and had not received her mother’s letter. Her teacher sent word to them, and they came to pick up Anna four days later. Eventually Ida and Anna were able to bring Mamma to America too.
But for now, none of that mattered. As Anna walked to her teacher’s home, she thought, “Heavenly Father more than answered my prayer. I only asked for someone who could understand me, and He sent someone I knew.”

One day at school as I ate lunch and studied for my next class, I noticed a group sitting near me, talking and laughing. One young woman particularly caught my attention. She was tall, with beautiful black hair, dark skin, and high cheekbones. Her appearance was as unlike my pale, freckled face and red hair as anything I could imagine. She was one of the most beautiful people I had ever seen.
After a few minutes, the group rose to leave. But the young woman I had been watching stopped. I was somewhat embarrassed; I thought she must have seen me staring at them. Then something extraordinary happened.
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” she said, “but I want to tell you how beautiful you are.”
After a shocked pause, I started to laugh. “I was thinking the same thing about you!”
After she left, I continued to think about what had happened. We found our differences beautiful. At that moment I realized there is no single standard of beauty.

I moved to another village to live with a friend. As I was telling my story to my friend and some of her neighbors, one neighbor said, “Mariama, we don’t have anything to offer you except an invitation to church tomorrow. That’s where we find safety. That’s where we find hope.” I loved God already and needed comfort in my life, so I decided to go.
My first Sunday in that Latter-day Saint branch is a day I will never forget. I learned of hope. You could just see that there was hope in those people, and I was drawn to them. I was given the Book of Mormon and started reading right away. I remember hearing in church about how families could be together again after death and then reading in Alma 11 where Alma teaches about how our bodies will be made perfect again in the Resurrection. I felt the Spirit so strongly as I thought of my family. I knew that the Church was true and that we could be together forever—each of us well and whole.
There were no missionaries in Sierra Leone at that time, so I took the lessons from my branch president and was baptized and confirmed soon after. We were blessed in our town because the Church sent food and humanitarian kits for the members of the Church and others. The food kept us all alive. Everyone was so grateful even to receive a small bag of rice or beans. I received a blanket and a hygiene kit that included a toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo, soap, a comb, and a washcloth.

When I was called as elders quorum president in 2000, only seven elders were attending priesthood meeting. Also, we weren’t doing a good job of making our home teaching—now ministering—visits.
I knew we faced a great challenge to inspire the elders to step up. So, for starters, we decided to reorganize assignments and increase supervision.
And our elders quorum? The Lord blessed us as we moved ahead with a unified spirit. Our home teaching soon rose to 100 percent, and our priesthood attendance increased to 35 faithful elders.