Gospel Story Finder

Let me tell you a bit about the Guayaquil Temple. At the end of October 1991, President Hinckley came to a regional conference in Quito, Ecuador. Prior to the trip he expressed a desire to locate a property for the Guayaquil temple. He expressed sincere regret that in spite of being announced almost ten years earlier in April General Conference 1982, the temple was not yet built. The Area Real Estate office in Quito was charged with finding 5 or 6 properties for potential temple sites. I was charged with doing a preliminary title investigation to make certain the properties were of reasonably clear title. Together we narrowed it down to 6 well-located properties with reasonably clear titles that would be suitable temple sites.

On the day President Hinckley went to Guayaquil to view the properties, I was not invited. Philippe Kradolfer, our Director of Temporal Affairs, later related the following story: President Hinckley didn't like any of the properties; he said they were "too flat." At the last piece of property President Hinckley asked what lay beyond a line of trees that bordered the property. Brother Kradolfer told him it was "swampland." (Now, if you know anything about Guayaquil, half the city is built on reclaimed swampland, and actually beyond the trees was a tidal waterway known in Guayaquil as an estero.) At this point President Hinckley started giving directions to the driver of the vehicle, telling him where to turn and when. They somehow got to the other side of the estero and came to a rough unpaved road leading up a steep slope. The road leads to the top of a hill which overlooks a huge section of the city of Guayaquil. President Hinckley walked around the hill in silence and then walking back to the car, he said, "This feels like a temple site. See if it can be purchased!"

President Hinckley left directly from Guayaquil to return to the U.S. When Brother Kradolfer and the others returned to Quito, they were all very emotional in telling the story of having observed a prophet of God locate a temple site under inspiration from heaven. I had no doubt that the prophet had been guided by the Lord in finding that property. But when they described the property, I knew exactly which property it was. I groaned because I had already looked at the title and had rejected the property because its legal situation was a terrible mess, it would take years to clear it up.

But what do you do when a prophet says, "this feels like a temple property?" Obviously you charge full speed ahead and do your best and pray for heaven's help. The property was identified on about November 1, 1991. The temple was dedicated in 1999, almost 8 years later. Most of that delay was due to the legal entanglements involved in purchasing the property, including subdivision approval, obtaining religious use, and building permit.

The process was complicated by the fact that the Guayaquil city government for some twenty years previous had been in control of the Bucaram family, Ecuadorians of Lebanese descent. Guayaquil was a mess. The government was extremely corrupt. The city was filthy and public services were a disaster. In 1994, the people rebelled and a new political movement elected as mayor a former president of the country, Leon Febres Cordero. He was known as an honest man who didn't tolerate any nonsense. He completely shut down the city hall for a month and hired a city manager, an experienced youthful Harvard-educated businessman to put order in the chaos that had been city government. During that month he had people working night and day to clean it up and put in all new office systems.

Little by little the new city government put order in the city and its services. Eventually, we were able to obtain all the approvals necessary to build the temple. The temple was dedicated on 1 August 1999. I have been back to Guayaquil many times since the dedication of the temple and Guayaquil is truly a different city. The traffic is more orderly, the city is cleaner, the parks are well maintained, and people are even more polite. The transformation from the city I knew in the 80s to what it is today is actually unbelievable. I have commented on that transformation to Guayaquil members of the Church. The universal response has been: it's the temple. The presence of the temple has changed the city. I cannot ever argue with that. Like those faithful saints of Guayaquil, I truly believe that the Lord was involved in improving their beautiful city.

When I reached the eligible age, I decided to serve a mission and was called to the Korea Seoul Mission. It was the best decision I’d ever made for my life. I now had the opportunity to help others find the same spiritual support I had discovered.

Some months into my mission, my companion and I met an American woman living in Seoul. We needed help teaching her in English, so we taught her with the help of a senior missionary couple, Elder Bill and Sister Renae White. This was hardly a coincidental meeting, as the Whites became my eternal friends. As I reached the end of my mission, they encouraged me to go to Ricks College and get an education. I had never thought of college before, let alone leaving Korea. After all, I was the first in my family to graduate from high school. But soon I was accepted to Ricks College. That missionary couple were my angels, parents, mentors, and sponsors until they recently passed away.

When I arrived in the United States, another life-altering experience came to me when Steven and Marjorie Bennion, president and First Lady of Ricks College at the time, invited me to stay with their lovely family. This was, without a doubt, a divine intervention and a tender mercy from the Lord. They took me in as a daughter, and I experienced life in a happy, loving family setting; I was able to see how to live the gospel in a family and as an individual under the direction of a loving father, who strived to lead his family righteously, and a saintly mother, who nurtured the family with her faith, wisdom, and grace. This experience became my guiding light throughout my adult life, and I am so grateful that they are here today.

There once was a man whose lifelong dream was to board a cruise ship and sail the Mediterranean Sea. He dreamed of walking the streets of Rome, Athens, and Istanbul. He saved every penny until he had enough for his passage. Since money was tight, he brought an extra suitcase filled with cans of beans, boxes of crackers, and bags of powdered lemonade, and that is what he lived on every day.
He would have loved to take part in the many activities offered on the ship—working out in the gym, playing miniature golf, and swimming in the pool. He envied those who went to movies, shows, and cultural presentations. And, oh, how he yearned for only a taste of the amazing food he saw on the ship—every meal appeared to be a feast! But the man wanted to spend so very little money that he didn’t participate in any of these. He was able to see the cities he had longed to visit, but for the most part of the journey, he stayed in his cabin and ate only his humble food.
On the last day of the cruise, a crew member asked him which of the farewell parties he would be attending. It was then that the man learned that not only the farewell party but almost everything on board the cruise ship—the food, the entertainment, all the activities—had been included in the price of his ticket. Too late the man realized that he had been living far beneath his privileges.

As an elder in Boise, one evening I was working on the stake farm with Brother Olsen from the bishopric. As I recollect, only the two of us were there. Brother Olsen worked for the Idaho Power Company. Again, he was a few years older than I, and he was directing the work. One of the jobs we had to do was to repair some power lines. Ever since my childhood I have feared electricity. Even now I turn off all the power in the house if I am going to repair some electrical equipment. That evening the last thing we had to do before it got dark was to climb a telephone pole and splice two wires together that furnished power for part of the farm.

Brother Olsen offered to go up the pole. But though I feared what had to be done, I was younger and knew that I should do it. I asked him what to do. He gave me clear and complete instructions. I was to climb up the pole, take one wire and strip off the insulation about six inches, then take the other wire and strip off the insulation about six inches, join the wires together, and then reinsulate.

I asked him if the power was off. He assured me it was. I climbed the pole and followed his instructions. No one will know how difficult it was for me to take a large, high-powered line in my hand, strip off the insulation, then hold that wire and the connecting wire in my hand, splice them together, and then reinsulate them. Merlin was right. There was no power in the lines. I was absolutely safe.

The thing that I remember about that experience is that I had some doubt as to whether the power was off or not. I was fearful that someone else on the farm might throw a breaker and turn on the electricity. Nevertheless, my faith in Merlin and the fact that I was doing what the Lord wanted me to do was enough to overcome my fear.

A few days before he passed away, President Kimball was in the temple on the fourth floor with his associates of the First Presidency and the members of the Twelve. He was so weak and frail that there was every good reason for him to not be there. Before our meeting started, members of the Twelve walked by where he sat to shake his hand and greet him. There was almost no response at all because of the physical drain over the last few months. There was almost no capacity to communicate or respond to the present situation. His hearing was very limited, his eyesight was failing, and his frail body was filled with aches. As I shook his hand privately and felt little or no response, I gave it an extra squeeze. I said, “President Kimball, I’m Marv Ashton.” How can I ever forget his last words to me when he looked up just a little and said very softly, “Marv Ashton, I love you.”

Quite recently I was privileged to observe this process in the life of a brother named Stan, who had been less active for some 45 years. He had lived a good life and supported both his wife and son in their activity as faithful members in the Church. Yet for personal reasons he chose to remain outside the fellowship of the Church. Even so, each month he welcomed the home teachers.

During February 2006, Stan received new home teachers. Their first visit was pleasant enough, although Stan showed no real interest in the gospel or in any matters remotely associated with spiritual things. Their next visit did little to alter their initial observations, even though Stan was a little warmer and friendlier. On their third visit, however, there was a visible change in Stan’s countenance and demeanor. To their utmost surprise and even before they were able to present their message, Stan interrupted them with a number of thoughtful questions. In the ensuing discussion he also recounted his experiences during the past month, in which he and his wife had commenced reading one chapter a day from the Book of Mormon.

Elder Bruce R. McConkie eloquently described the type of reawakening Stan experienced: “Here is a man who gains a copy of this blessed book, begins to read it, and continues … until, having read it all, his famished soul is filled with the bread of life. He cannot lay it aside or ignore its teachings. It is as though the waters of life are flowing into the barren deserts of his soul, quenching the arid, empty feeling that theretofore separated him from his God.”

The home teachers were reminded of the remarkable power of the Book of Mormon and how very real the influence of the Spirit of the Lord is when we turn to its sacred pages. They also more fully understood the Prophet Joseph Smith’s declaration “that the Book of Mormon [is] the most correct of any book on earth, … and a man would get nearer to God by abiding by its precepts, than by any other book.”

Stan’s thirst for learning and rediscovery of the restored gospel soon expanded his reading beyond one chapter a day, accompanied by deep soul-searching and fervent prayer. To those who sometimes are concerned whether the Lord will actually hear their prayers, the Savior reminds us:

“If a son shall ask bread of any of you that is a father, will he give him a stone? or if he ask a fish, will he for a fish give him a serpent? …

“If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children: how much more shall your heavenly Father give good gifts, through the Holy Spirit, to them that ask him?”

Our beloved prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley, also counseled: “You can’t do it alone. … You need the help of the Lord … and the marvelous thing is that you have the opportunity to pray, with the expectation that your prayers will be heard and answered. … He stands ready to help.”

During August of 2006, Stan ventured alongside his ever-faithful wife into his ward sacrament meeting—his first in 45 years. There, with a humble and prayerful heart, he listened to the simple sacramental prayers offered by the youthful priests. Feeling unworthy and sensing something of the depth and the meaning of this most holy ordinance, he reflected deeply and painfully without partaking of the bread or the water for a number of weeks.

President Joseph Fielding Smith, in a tender testimony many years ago, said: “In my judgment the sacrament meeting is the most sacred, the most holy, of all the meetings of the Church. When I reflect upon the gathering of the Savior and his apostles on that memorable night when he introduced the sacrament … my heart is filled with wonderment and my feelings are touched. I consider that gathering one of the most solemn and wonderful since the beginning of time.”

Stan continued studying, praying, attending church, and receiving appropriate counsel and encouragement from his home teachers. Then the day arrived when, joyfully, he felt he was ready to put forth his hand to partake of the precious sacrament. When we partake worthily, thoughtfully, and reverently of the holy sacrament, we are enabled to become “partakers of the divine nature” because of the Atonement of Christ and the power of the Holy Ghost.

As Stan returned to activity in the Church, he received a calling and, some months later, was ordained an elder.

In July 2007, Stan and his wife knelt across the altar in a house of the Lord and, by the authority and eternal law of God, were married for time and for all eternity.

This story happened in the USA.
“Hey, come watch this,” Darren said to Henry. “It’s hilarious!”
Henry’s stomach sank. Not another video.
He sat next to Darren and Drake on the couch. They laughed at the video, but Henry wanted to shrink into the cushions so he couldn’t hear the bad words.
As soon as the video ended, Henry jumped up. “Let’s go outside and ride bikes.”
“Later,” Drake said. Darren kept scrolling on his phone.
Henry sighed and sat back down as Darren pushed play.
When Henry biked home later, he thought about all the other times he felt uncomfortable with Darren and Drake. Like when they told mean jokes at school. Or stole apples from Mr. Garcia’s tree.
Maybe I should talk to Mom, Henry thought. But what if she said he couldn’t hang out with Darren and Drake anymore? Then he’d be alone. Again.
Mom was setting the table when Henry walked inside. “Hey, how was your day?” she asked.
Henry shrugged. They sat down for dinner, and Mom said a prayer. Henry stirred his soup without eating a bite.
“Did something happen at Darren’s house today?” Mom asked.
Henry felt sick to his stomach. He didn’t want to tell her everything about Darren and Drake. But maybe he’d tell her a little. “All we do is watch videos. I want to ride bikes, but Darren and Drake always say no.”
“Is anything wrong with the videos?” she asked.
Henry’s heart raced. Should he tell her? He couldn’t say anything about the bad words. He couldn’t be alone again. “I don’t feel like talking right now.”
Mom took a deep breath. “I know that moving here has been hard. You were so happy when you became friends with Darren and Drake. But I hope they never pressure you to do or watch something bad. True friends help you do what’s right.”
Henry looked down. “Darren and Drake are my true friends.”
“Well, if they are, they’ll respect your decisions. Even when you say no.”
At Darren’s house the next day, the words “true friends” stuck in Henry’s mind.
“Check out this new video,” Darren said.
“No,” Henry said.
Darren and Drake stared at him.
“I’m not watching anymore,” he said, a little louder this time. “I don’t like how they make me feel.”
“Don’t be a baby,” Drake said.
Darren and Drake laughed. They started teasing Henry about how his face always got red when they showed him videos or when they told jokes at school.
Is this what true friends would do? Henry thought.
He stood up from the couch. “I’m riding my bike. You guys can come if you want.”
“Nope,” Darren said. “We’re staying here.”
Henry walked outside alone. As soon as the door shut behind him, he realized the sick feeling in his stomach was gone. He felt light and calm instead.
Then he realized something else. He wasn’t alone. The Holy Ghost was with him. Henry was still sad about Darren and Drake. But the Holy Ghost was telling him he made the right choice. Smiling, he got on his bike and rode for home.
Illustrations by Matt Smith

John and Tess found they enjoyed the extra effort they put into visiting their neighbors so much, they decided to expand the assignment into a week.
“As soon as we received the assignment from the bishop we came home and began talking about it. We planned. We prayed. And then we planned and prayed some more,” John reflected.
“From Sunday until Thursday I just kept thinking the day was coming closer and closer. I knew that I had enough time to prepare, and on Thursday I’d better live the best I could. I couldn’t really offer any excuses,” says Tess.
They decided to fill their day visiting their neighbors, taking some fruit or a gift to those who were ill, expressing their thanks to people who had helped them. “So many people are lonely and just want to talk,” says John who serves on the fellowshipping committee in the ward. “We wanted to just go and let them know we cared. And it was wonderful to see how they opened up to us. One sister asked us if the high priests could come and administer the sacrament in her home once in a while since she couldn’t go to the meetings. So I talked with the bishop about it, and the next week a couple of us administered the sacrament to her.”
Was their day a success? “Oh, yes! Most days we think about what we should do, but we just don’t make the effort to do it. And when you finally do it, you have such a good feeling,” Tess said.

Years ago, as a young missionary, I was assigned to a group of 17 small islands in the South Pacific. One day a member told me that if I would be at a certain harbor on a particular island at sunset the next day, a family would meet me there and listen to the discussions.
What joy that news brought! I was working alone at the time but quickly found four members who were experienced sailors and who agreed to take me to this island.
Early the next morning the five of us started out. A nice breeze moved us swiftly along the coast, through the opening in the reef, and out into the wide expanse of the Pacific Ocean.
We made good progress for a few hours, but then the wind began to slow and soon quit, leaving us bobbing aimlessly on a smooth ocean. I suggested that we pray. We pleaded with the Lord three times to send some wind, but still the sails hung limp and listless.
I thought, All that stands between us and the family is a little wind. Why won’t the Lord send it? It’s a righteous desire.
A faithful older brother unlashed the tiny lifeboat and softly said, “Get in. I am going to row you to shore.”
I was astonished. It was miles to shore. The sun was hot, and this man was old. He said, “We have an assignment from the Lord. Before the sun sets this day, you will be teaching the gospel and bearing testimony to a family who wants to listen. Get in the boat.”
We got into the boat; the old man bent his back and began to row. He did not look up, rest, or talk. Hour after hour he rowed and rowed and rowed, fulfilling the calling he had from the Lord—to get a missionary to a family who wanted to hear the gospel. He was the Lord’s wind that day.
Just as the sun slipped below the horizon, the lifeboat touched shore. A family was waiting. I went to their home and taught them the gospel. The family believed and eventually was baptized.
How often do we quit because we pray for wind and none comes? Instead, we need to listen for the Lord’s answer when we pray and then act upon his answer. On the boat, five men prayed, but only one heard and acted. God gave him the strength to be His wind that day, and He will give us the strength to be His wind when we do what He asks.

I remember when, as a young deacon, I would cover a portion of the ward on fast Sunday morning, giving the small envelope to each family, waiting while a contribution was placed in the envelope and then returning it to the bishop. On one such occasion, an elderly member, Brother Wright, who lived alone, welcomed me at the door and, with aged hands, fumbled at the tie of the envelope and placed within it a small sum. His eyes fairly glistened as he made his contribution. He invited me to sit down and then told me of a time many years before when his cupboard had been empty of food. In his hunger, he had prayed to Heavenly Father for food to eat. Not long thereafter, he gazed out his front window and beheld someone approaching his door, pulling behind her a red-colored wagon. It was Sister Balmforth, the Relief Society president, who had pulled that wagon almost half a mile over the railroad tracks and to his door. The wagon overflowed with food collected from the sisters of the ward Relief Society, with which Sister Balmforth filled the empty shelves in Brother Wright’s kitchen. He described her to me as “an angel sent from heaven.”

One day when I was at the grocery store with my mom and my grandma, I found some money on the floor. I picked it up and showed it to my mom. She asked me what we are supposed to do when we find something that doesn’t belong to us. We went to the office, and I turned it in so the person who lost it could find it. The people in the office thanked me for being so honest, and they took my name and phone number. They said that if no one came for the money, they would call me and I could have it. I felt happy inside because I had done the right thing. I knew Heavenly Father and Jesus were proud of me.

Finally, I’ll always remember a man I met when I was driving a delivery van through downtown Seattle. I was earning money for my mission. I met a wide variety of people, but Larry was the most interesting by far. I had just run some boxes into a store and was hustling back to my van when he came up alongside and extended his hand.
“Hi, my name is Larry. Will you be my friend?”
“You bet,” I agreed with a smile. It was plain that Larry was mentally disabled. I’m sure some thought it was funny he would walk up to a total stranger asking for friendship. But I believe Larry was only innocently asking out loud the same question so many ask silently, Will you be my friend? If we would all just say, “Sure,” wouldn’t it be cool? Cool-aid.
We all know how it feels to be thirsty, so thirsty we can hardly stand it. I’m convinced that’s how many in the world feel right now, thirsty for attention, approval, acceptance, and love. We can do something about it! By giving cool-aid—the coolest aid of real selfless service—to those around us, we can quench the thirst that our brothers and sisters have and leave joy that will last longer than the purple mustaches on my upper lip ever did.

In my training as a new General Authority, I found myself in Costa Rica with Elder F. Arthur Kay and others. In prayer and fasting, we visited families who were less active. The stake president and bishops had fasted and prayed that the Lord would indicate to them the choice families to be visited, and the families were then notified of the planned visits.

We first entered the home of a young, successful businessman with a lovely wife and children. A former leader, he had transgressed the laws of the Church. As the Spirit of the Lord spoke through his servants, tears came to all our eyes as the couple committed to prepare to go to the Lord’s house, the beautiful new temple in Guatemala, to be sealed for eternity.

There are many modern day Calebs and Joshuas. One such man was my wife’s grandfather John Hulme. One day in 1926, the bishop had a conversation with John. The bishop brought up the topic of a mission. This caught John off guard.

John had always wanted to serve a mission, but his life was complicated. Why? Because John was 42 years old. He was a married man with four children, ages 15, 12, 4, and 2. He was a self-employed rancher. He had land and cattle that would need supervision while he was away. He would have to find a way to make sure his family and property were taken care of while he was gone.

The bishop told John that this was not an official call, just a suggestion. John told the bishop he would think about it and let him know the next day.

John sought out the bishop early the next morning and said he would accept the call to serve. That morning, after what was probably a very sleepless night, John did not know how he would make arrangements to serve a mission. He only knew he would serve. Like Caleb and Joshua, he knew God would help him find a way. And God did. John was able to hire a neighbor to care for his land and his cattle, and the ward and community rallied to support his wife and children.

It must have been quite a culture shock when John, a rancher from a small town, arrived to serve his mission in New York City.

John came from a small country town with a population of about 500. He was accustomed to riding a horse and working the land. When he was called to serve in New York City, it must have been quite a culture shock. He probably felt like a grasshopper among giants. But John served a successful mission. His example has given his posterity the desire to place their trust in God regardless of the obstacles and unknowns. “With God nothing shall be impossible” (Luke 1:37).

If you were to ask me if I believed in honesty, I would be a little bit offended. I would feel that you ought to know I believed in honesty. But let me tell you what I did a little while ago.

As our family was driving from Arizona, we stopped at a service station, and while the car was being serviced one of the children said, “Could we have some soda pop?” So, I went over to the vending machine. I put in one dime and I got out one bottle. I put in another dime and I got out another bottle. I put in a third dime and I got a third bottle. But then the gadget didn’t lock, and I got the fourth bottle out free. In all, I got four bottles for thirty cents. And as I was going over to the car to make the delivery, I thought, “They charge too much for this stuff anyway.” However, I have a little mental night watchman on duty up here in my brain someplace who started to make a fuss, and he said, “Look, Sterling, if you’re going to be a crook, you had better get more than ten cents out of it.”

I don’t know just what I would have done if soda water had cost a quarter, but I went back and put the other dime into the machine. Now, how can anyone tell whether or not I believe in honesty? By what I say about it, or by what I do while I am over at the vending machine where no one can see me except myself? Or, how are you going to tell whether or not I believe the gospel is true? By what I say in testimony meeting, or by the way I carry out my church assignments?

I was blessed with that same feeling of fellowship by a priesthood leader when I was in the Aaronic Priesthood. He understood how to build priesthood fellowship that can last. He arranged with the owner of a woodlot for us to spend an afternoon chopping wood and putting it in bundles. The bundles were for widows so that they could have a fire in the cold of winter. I still remember the warmth of fellowship I felt with my priesthood brethren. But even more I remember feeling that I was doing what the Savior would do. And so I felt fellowship with Him. We can build that precious fellowship in our quorums in this life, and then we can have it forever, in glory and in families, if we live according to the covenants.

At times, when you are being led to the rescue, it may seem accidental.

Once, I simply asked someone I met on a trip, “Would you tell me a little about your family?” The conversation led me to ask to see a picture of her adult daughter, who she said was struggling. I was struck with the goodness in the face of that girl in the picture. I felt impressed to ask if I could have her email address. The daughter was at that moment lost and wondering if God had any message for her. He did. It was this: “The Lord loves you. He always has. The Lord wants you to come back. Your promised blessings are still in place.”

I witnessed the righteousness and power of God in great glory, received through faithfulness to covenants and ordinances, in the life of a Church member who experienced the heartache of divorce. This sister’s spiritual and emotional distress was heightened by a sense of unfairness associated with her spouse’s violation of covenants and the breakup of their marriage. She wanted justice and accountability.

As this faithful woman was struggling with all that had happened to her, she studied and pondered the Savior’s Atonement more intently and intensely than ever before in her life. Gradually, a deeper understanding of Christ’s redemptive mission distilled upon her soul—His suffering for our sins and also for our pains, weaknesses, disappointments, and anguish. And she was inspired to ask herself a penetrating question: since the price already has been paid for those sins, would you demand that the price be paid twice? She realized that such a requirement would be neither just nor merciful.

This woman learned that binding herself to the Savior through covenants and ordinances can heal the wounds caused by another person’s unrighteous exercise of moral agency and enabled her to find the capacity to forgive and receive peace, mercy, and love.

At first, I was embarrassed and ashamed.
I mean, how would you like it if you were always the object of the ward service projects? I came from a single-parent home, and we were considered “underprivileged.” All that service was a little hard to accept.
But when I started noticing the joy in the faces of the kids in my ward, my feelings began to change. It wasn’t right for me to deny them the joy of service just because I was a little ashamed. They weren’t there to embarrass me and my family. They were there because they loved us and were aware of my mom’s struggles, and wanted to offer their time and labor.
And would you believe that participating in a ward service project at my own house made one of the best days of my life? The youth of the ward came to spend an entire Saturday sanding and painting our house. The brushes were set out; paint had been bought; razor blades, sandpaper, and ladders were all ready for action. Before we knew it, there was paint everywhere, with extra amounts splattered on the advisers.
By the end of the day, we were all tired and thirsty, but no one could wipe the smiles off our faces or wipe away the friendships we had just cemented. My heart filled with warmth and my eyes stung from the oncoming tears as I looked at the newly painted house that was our little home.
Now, every time I look at our house the memory of hitting the advisers with paint brings on a smile, but I also see something else. One of the deacons walked across the roof with paint on the bottom of his shoes. It was the funniest thing to look up and see white footprints across the roof.
With time, the footprints have faded, but what the youth and the ward have done will never fade. The love they extended to us through service means so much to me, and my mom said that she will always be grateful to those who have taken time out for us.
So my advice to you, if you ever get the chance to be charitable, is to enjoy it. The blessings will be great. But if you get the chance to receive, do it, knowing that people’s motives are pure. They love you and want to serve you.

I have seen this firsthand in our HTM students from Kiribati. They had a strong desire to help lift their country from poverty, but they saw no opportunities back home and didn’t know how or where to begin. But they did not let their lack of understanding stop them. They brainstormed simple ideas, reached out to local leaders, requested meetings with government officials when they came to Hawaii, and saved their own money to travel back home where they engaged with community members. Their willingness to serve was placed in the Savior’s hands, and he multiplied their efforts beyond anything they could have imagined.

Since then, they have presented to their national parliament, were invited to a private reception with the president of their country, spoke at the United Nations, helped establish the first national park in all of Micronesia, influenced changes in national laws and public policy, began training programs that gave their countrymen hope and a secondary source of income, and even presented to international organizations like the World Bank that agreed to help fund their projects. Several of those students and I just returned from Kiribati last Saturday where they are partnering with the World Bank, the Kiribati government, and other community leaders as part of a $700M development initiative. What began as humble, uncertain steps became a national movement that changed the direction of their entire country and gave hope to their citizens for a better future—proof that the Lord can amplify our small offerings into something far greater when we let Him.