Gospel Story Finder

At the birth of each of my children, during those precious, solemn moments when I held them for the first time, I felt the whisperings of the Spirit teaching me of their unique qualities. When these impressions first came, I doubted. But as my children grew, the truths suggested at their births were verified. I feel wonder for a God who would thus offer counsel to me as he, our Heavenly Father, transferred his precious children to a new father’s earthly care.

Mountain Born The newborn black lamb was still, stiff, and cold, but with the old shepherd’s special touch and Mother’s loving care, Biddy was soon a spirited pet for Peter. But she was more than that. One time, for example, Biddy appeared at the farmhouse door, her side dripping blood. She led Peter, his father, and the old shepherd back to the flock in the mountains so that they could save it from the wolves that had attacked her.Elizabeth Yates8–11 years

“When the missionaries were teaching me, I knew right away that it was true. I didn’t have any doubt. My dad got baptized; then I got baptized the next Saturday,” said Stephanie Rawlins. “I enjoy being in the church I know is true. Friends I have who aren’t members can’t talk the same way. They don’t understand. With my friends in the Church I can open up; I can talk about things that are really important.”

At work, Francisco Lopes (who has since married) was subjected to frequent spiritual tremors. “Some of the people I worked with were skeptical of my beliefs and criticized me for what I believed in,” he says. “They often questioned me, using science that seemed to conflict with our faith.”

Brother Lopes recalls discussions about evolution, DNA, and more. “They did their best to convince me the Church is false,” he says of the questions for which he had few answers. “I had to rely upon my testimony of God and His gospel. I am grateful for that foundation.”

Sometimes, as with Brother Lopes, members are faced with questions to which they don’t have answers. But he didn’t let something he didn’t know shake his faith in something he did know.
“There are things that I don’t know yet. But I don’t question those things because I know that in time God will reveal what I need to know,” Brother Lopes says, “not in my time or when I want it, but when He thinks that it needs to be revealed.”

What does one do when faced with tough questions that don’t seem to have answers?
“Most of our answers are in the scriptures,” says Brother Lopes, who has faced questions not only from friends and co-workers but from his parents, who questioned his decision to join the Church at age 14. “But finding and understanding those answers depends on personal revelation. I can also go to my Church leaders or ask God directly. I’m grateful for the Holy Ghost and a caring Father in Heaven.”

She thinks all children should remember that when you have problems, you can always turn to your Heavenly Father in prayer. Sometimes it takes patience. Her brother Jérôme had worked very hard and saved money to buy a bicycle. When it was stolen out of the Roth’s garage, he prayed every day that he would get his bike back. After three months of praying every day, he felt impressed to go play in an area where he’d never gone before. He found his bike there. Samantha knows that Heavenly Father helped her brother find his bike. She knows He helped her find her brother Semjon. And she knows that although He doesn’t always answer prayers the way we want Him to, He does listen and answer everyone’s prayers.

A few years ago a family in search of work arrived from nearby Portugal. Poor but proud, they searched and searched but could find no work. Since Santiago de Compostela lies in the region of Galicia, most people there speak Galician as well as Spanish. Galician is very close to Portuguese, so the family was able to communicate, but it became increasingly difficult to get enough to eat. Finally, utterly destitute, they found themselves one day with neither food nor shelter. Seeing his children hungry, the father of the family choked down his fierce Portuguese pride and took his family onto the street to beg.

Two Mormon missionaries walked past, and with one look they knew that these were no professional beggars. They read the anguish and integrity and pride in the eyes of these people. They told the branch members. One brother offered the family an apartment rent free for as long as they needed it. The young people gathered food for them from members of the Church. Someone went out and found a job for the father. The members provided for them the things they needed to get started in a new city and country. Before long the family was able to pay its own way as well as pay back the assistance they had received and begin to help others in need.

The members put no pressure on this family to investigate the Church, but the family had felt the compelling power of Christlike love. They investigated the Church and requested baptism. There was one more family of pilgrims in Santiago.

One of the residents, Roy, was 46 when Sophia was age two. Because Roy’s mental age was the same as Sophia’s, they became best friends. Brother Ralph describes how they played together and followed each other around. “Now Sophia is eight, and Roy looks up to her as his big sister. Mentally he’s still a two-year-old.” It’s touching to watch them walk hand in hand down the lane to the lambing fields. When it’s spring, Sophia takes Roy to see the newborn lambs, an outing they both cherish.

I was born on March 7, 1998, in Congo Town, near Monrovia. Growing up, I attended church regularly with my grandmother in another church. Unfortunately, when she died in 2009 from pressure (hypertension), my church attendance stopped because there was no one around to encourage me about going to church and how to gain salvation.
As I grew older, I became curious about spirituality—how to get salvation and one day go to heaven. That became my goal and wish because my grandmother always told me that heaven is way better than the great America that I wished to visit.
However, I did not attend church again. I later relocated to Brewerville with no involvement in church activities. A big tree had fallen from the family—there was no more support, and everyone had to fight for themselves. I started looking for opportunities to gain an education since my grandmother was no longer around.
My life took many turns, as it does for most people, and through all these experiences, I found myself at a crossroads—searching for something more meaningful.
Later, a young man moved into our community from Nigeria. I found out that he had recently completed his mission and relocated to my community. I enjoyed coming around him because of his strange accent and his stories about the development happening in Nigeria—the beautiful streets and cities.
One day, while we were arguing, one of my colleagues, Amos Bangura, made a statement: “Liberia is a hell, and if you are born and die in Liberia and go to hell, it is a double punishment. Then God is not fair because things are so tough in Liberia.”
The returned missionary, Brother James Kolue, quickly used that statement as an opportunity to teach us about Heavenly Father’s love for all His children—no matter their location, family background, or country. He taught us that God’s love extends beyond our imagination.
After his teaching, I quickly asked him: “Which church are you attending?”
He replied, “I attend The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Have you heard about this church before?”
I quickly said, “Yes, I sometimes see their missionaries passing by.”
He asked if I would like to learn from the missionaries, and I accepted the invitation. I started meeting with the missionaries. They were friendly and kind, and their message about Jesus Christ and the plan of salvation felt different from anything I had ever heard before.
I spent several weeks learning more about their beliefs and reading the Book of Mormon. There was something about the teachings that resonated deeply with me. I remember the day I prayed for the first time to know if the Church was true, and I felt an overwhelming peace—something I had never felt before.
That was when I knew I had to take the next step.
However, life became tough, and I moved to Logan Town in search of opportunities. There, I met different missionaries and stopped them to explain that I had been learning with missionaries in Brewerville. They contacted the other missionaries and continued my teaching.
The missionaries introduced me to the bishop, who was then Bishop Paul Wrotto. He guided and helped me as I took this new step. Soon after, I was baptized. The moment I emerged from the water, I felt like a new person. My heart was full, my mind clearer, and I was ready to follow the path that Heavenly Father had set for me.
The gospel changed everything in my life, and I felt a strong desire to share it with others—just as the missionaries had shared it with me.
I felt prompted to serve a full-time mission and discussed this with Bishop Wrotto. The decision wasn’t easy. I had doubts about leaving behind the life I knew, especially the part-time job that I struggled to get. But my bishop said two things that remained in my heart:
God knows you personally. “Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you” (Matthew 6:33).
You should create time for God. God should not create time for you.
These words kept playing in my mind. I knew it was what I was supposed to do.
I began preparing for my mission, and soon I was called to serve in the Ghana Accra Mission under President and Sister Young. I left my job to fully prepare, but then the unexpected happened: COVID-19.
The pandemic spread rapidly, buildings were shut down, churches were closed, and public gatherings were prohibited. The missionary training center (MTC) was closed, and I was stuck at home—no job, no mission, just frustration.
During this period, I began questioning my decision. But my bishop encouraged me to use the time as an opportunity to study the scriptures and follow the Come, Follow Me program.
Later, we were notified that we would begin online MTC training. Finally, I was blessed to serve in the Ghana Accra Mission.
My mission took me to places where I met incredible people and worked with companions who taught me to be bold in sharing the gospel and patience in helping others find the same joy I had found.
When I returned home, I felt the desire to share the gospel with my family—especially my brother. He had been skeptical when I first joined the Church. He didn’t understand why I was so passionate about it. But instead of forcing him, I decided to live by example.
One evening, I sat down with him and shared my testimony. I told him how the gospel had changed my life. To my surprise, he listened. We discussed the Book of Mormon, the teachings of Jesus Christ, and the Restoration of the gospel. It wasn’t a quick process, but over time he started reading and praying on his own.
Months later my brother made the decision to be baptized. I couldn’t have been happier. I saw him changing, growing, and the same light I once felt began to shine in him.
Eventually, he felt inspired to serve a full-time mission as well. He is currently serving in the DRC Kinshasa West Mission.
It brings me so much joy to see how far he has come. I know he will touch lives and help others find the same peace that comes from knowing Jesus Christ.
The gospel is meant to be shared, and I will continue to share it with those around me—just as I once shared it with my brother.
As I reflect on my journey—from meeting the missionaries, becoming a missionary myself, and helping my brother find his own path—I know that the Lord’s plan is much bigger than we can understand.
I call this story “a journey of faith.”

I visited this beautiful small country, also known as “the mountain kingdom,” to see a Church district preparing to become a stake. Following a Saturday of meetings, I attended Sunday services in one of their branches in a rented house. The sacramental room was overflowing, with people standing outside the door to participate. I told the branch president that he needed a bigger house. To my surprise, he informed me that this was only half of his membership. The other half would attend a second sacrament meeting after the second hour. Again, there were no complaints—only smiling faces and grateful hearts.

Joseph Smith and William W. Phelps, by Robert Anderson McKay
In the early years of the Church, William W. Phelps was a strong supporter of Joseph Smith. He was one of the first Latter-day Saints sent to Jackson County, Missouri, where the Lord called him as a counselor in the presidency there.
But as Brother Phelps began to stray, his behavior became so serious that the Lord revealed to Joseph Smith that if Brother Phelps did not repent, he would be “removed out of” his place.4 He did not repent and was excommunicated on March 10, 1838.
Although William was rebaptized, his difficulties with the Church and Church leaders continued. In October 1838, he testified against the Prophet and other leaders of the Church. This led to Joseph Smith’s incarceration in November 1838.
For the next five months, the Prophet was imprisoned in two Missouri jails, including Liberty Jail.
By 1840, William W. Phelps had experienced a profound change of heart and wrote to the Prophet pleading for forgiveness. The letter Joseph wrote in response concluded with the couplet:
“‘Come on, dear brother, since the war is past,
“‘For friends at first, are friends again at last.’”5
Joseph freely forgave Brother Phelps and welcomed him back into full fellowship.
Four years later, when Brother Phelps learned that Joseph and Hyrum had been killed by a mob, he was devastated. Joseph’s forgiveness of Brother Phelps may have inspired him as he penned the beautiful and moving words to the hymn “Praise to the Man.”6

Senior Year, High School—While investigating several churches to learn more about Christianity, I have discovered that some churches do not require extremely long periods of schooling to qualify as a minister. I have just visited a Bible college and learned that I can be ordained a minister after four years. After two years I could be assigned as a minister to a church of my own. I decided that I will go to the Bible college next year when I graduate from high school even though it will mean giving up a scholarship to another college. The classes appear interesting, but I sense something is missing from the college. Something seems to be missing in my personal life, too. How long will it take to find peace of mind?
Approaching Graduation—Religion is becoming less important in my life. I’m no longer sure of what I want to do. Deep inside me I feel guilty about something. I get upset at myself when I do wrong. But I still take a drink or smoke a cigarette now and again. After my first drink, my friends in high school were more worried about how it would affect my football playing than how it would affect my religious goals.
Change of Plans—I just received a scholarship to play football at Dodge City College only a few kilometers from my home. I don’t want to go to a college so close to home, but the scholarship will help pay for my studies. I gave up a scholarship offer before when I was planning to become a minister. Those plans will wait.
Summer—I’m working at the Dodge City Recreation Center and playing on a local baseball team. It’s not unusual for me to work all day, travel with the baseball team for a game, return home at 2 A.M. and get up at 7 A.M. to go to work.
What’s Wrong—This summer has been unusual. I haven’t gone to church very much. I read a lot and write a great deal. But religion seems to lack something. But maybe I lack something, too.
The Bible—I still consider the idea of Bible college education because I can have a ministry of my own very quickly. I commented once in Sunday School that we need to return to preaching the Bible. But one man argued that ministers should turn to more modern concerns and use up-to-date interpretations of the Bible. His remarks add to my confusion—religious leaders I know have different opinions about the meaning of the Bible and its place in modern times.
College Begins—I still pray sometimes. A few times I have said, “Show me the way, Lord, if there is one for me.”
Semester Ends—I have to wait till my assigned baptismal date. My first semester of college has ended and I’m on the honor roll as a top student. Last night I lay in my bed thinking how little time I really devoted to my studies. I laughed to myself and thought, “I did this and all without God.”
A Mormon Girl—I met a Mormon girl, Janet, the other night. I thought to myself, “What’s a Mormon?” I’ve investigated many religions but have never heard of this one.
Book of Mormon—I spent the weekend with my family. I asked Mom if she knew anything about Mormons. She said she thought there was a pamphlet in the bookcase. She found it and an old hardback book. I’m reading it now—the Book of Mormon. Mother said it was a Mormon Bible.
After the Date—Janet is the first girl I’ve dated with any regularity in at least six months. Tonight, after our date, we were talking and the subject of religion came up. I told her about my indefinite plans for the ministry and added, “There’s something wrong with every church.”
With confidence she replied, “Not mine.”
“Oh, sure, you tell me about it,” I answered. She isn’t the first girl that has wanted me to be interested in a particular church. But she definitely has a sparkle of purity, a twinkle in her eye.
I told her that I had been studying the Book of Mormon, and she suggested that I talk to the elders. I told her I’d like to sometime.
Following Monday—The strangest thing happened this evening. I work every night at the recreation center, but today when I called in, Mr. Braddock told me they didn’t need me tonight. I didn’t feel like studying, so I telephoned Janet about a date and she told me to come over to her house. The elders were coming. The meeting was arranged before I telephoned her, but on any other Monday night I would definitely have had to work.
The Meeting—While waiting for the elders at Janet’s home, I expected two old men in gray beards and maybe black hats to knock at the door. I was surprised when the elders turned out to be two young men close to my own age. Learning from them was a spiritual experience for me.
My Interview—I was interviewed tonight for baptism. I brought a signed statement from my dad to the elders giving his approval for my baptism. He used to know some Latter-day Saints. He said you have to be a missionary if you join their church. I told the district leader that the discussions were like the lifting of a veil, like I had heard the story before. The gospel contains many teachings that I have come to believe over the years, such as a literal, tangible, Heavenly Father concerned about us. I took the missionary discussions so fast that I have to wait till my assigned baptismal date.
April 27—I was baptized tonight. My family attended the service, as did many of the branch members. This is the cleanest feeling I have known in my entire life. The warm, friendly attitude of the members here is still one of the amazing things about this church.
Few Will Listen—I thought of dozens of my friends who would surely join the Church now. They just needed to learn about it as I had. It’s not like that. I know that most of my friends respect me very much for my high standards, but with others I wonder, as did the Apostle Paul, “Am I therefore become your enemy, because I tell you the truth?” (Gal. 4:16).
Sacrament Meeting—My family attended the branch’s sacrament meeting today. After the meeting, I went with the elders to my parents’ home for a missionary lesson. After the first discussion Elder Johnson tried to make an appointment to come again and teach my family.
“How about right now?” Mom asked.
So the second lesson was given. Dad had to leave then to do the farm chores. Mom quickly prepared a meal, and about an hour later Dad came back in and ate, and the third lesson was given. Three in one night!
July 27—Tonight I baptized my family. It is three months to the day since I joined the Church. Our family is finally united. As I brought Mom up out of the water, she embraced me and shed tears of joy. We have received life’s greatest blessings.
A Mission Call—I’m so excited! I came home from classes today to find a letter from the First Presidency. Quickly opening it I discovered that I would be going to California. I wept joyously. Feeling so insignificant in the Lord’s sight, I asked, “Why me?” The blessings of God seem so unbelievable. Now, in a week, I will leave on a mission to serve the Lord. I will be a minister.
Temple Sealing—Today I was sealed for time and all eternity to my Mom and Dad.
Temple Marriage—Janet and I were married this morning in the Salt Lake Temple. I thank God that a young woman lived the gospel so completely that I found a noticeable, attracting difference between her and other young people, thus leading me to the gospel. I encouraged my other young brothers and sisters to do the same. The gospel works.

When I was 18 I was the first in my family to find the restored gospel. After my baptism I began to really understand how the gospel could help my family.
As a result of these feelings, I started to do family history and my love for my ancestors grew as I worked and exercised my faith to find them. My desire to find them was so strong that on several occasions I traveled to my ancestors’ places of origin. Each trip brought new experiences, and my heart was turned to my ancestors (see Mal. 4:5–6).
Some time later I was called to serve as a family history consultant in my ward. My heart began to expand, and I began to love the ancestors of each person in my ward. As I searched parishes, archives, and libraries, I came to better understand the purpose of redeeming the dead.
Once I had my family history computer disk in my hands, I realized that the most important part of the work was still missing. I needed to go to the temple and provide my family beyond the veil with the ordinances that would enable them to be saved and join my family’s generations for eternity.
I was able to go to the temple when I went on my mission to Cochabamba, Bolivia. I began preaching the gospel in October 2000. A few months later my companion and I visited the temple with the youth from the ward where we were serving. I took my disk and was able to provide 599 names for ordinance work.
While I served as witness, my companion baptized the young people on behalf of my ancestors. What great joy I felt. The Spirit was with me, testifying of the truthfulness of what we were doing. I could feel my ancestors’ happiness and gratitude.
But there were other ordinances that still needed to be done. Because there were so many names, I turned them over to the temple. But I kept the names of my great-grandparents and their children, and later that month my companion and I, with the help of other missionaries, performed the work for them.
I am grateful to my Heavenly Father because, although I was far from my country and perhaps thought that I would baptize only the living, I was also able to participate in the work of redeeming the dead.
I am still trying to bring more souls to Christ and encouraging others to seek out their ancestors. I love this work, and I know that it is true and that Jesus Christ lives and loves us.

Some years ago one of the kindest and most loved men to live on the earth died. I speak of Louis C. Jacobsen. He ministered to those in need, he helped the immigrant to find employment, and he delivered more sermons at more funeral services than any other person I have known.
One day while in a reflective mood, Louis Jacobsen told me of his boyhood. He was the son of a poor Danish widow. He was small in stature, not particularly handsome—easily the object of his classmates’ thoughtless jokes. In Sunday School one Sabbath morning, the children made fun of his patched trousers and his worn shirt. Too proud to cry, tiny Louis ran from the chapel, stopping at last, out of breath, to sit and rest on the curb that ran along one of the main streets of Salt Lake City. Clear water flowed along the gutter next to the curb where Louis sat. From his pocket he took a piece of paper that contained the outlined Sunday School lesson and skillfully shaped a paper boat, which he launched on the flowing water. From his hurt boyish heart came the determined words, “I’ll never go back.”
Suddenly, through his tears Louis saw reflected in the water the image of a large and well-dressed man. Louis turned his face upward and recognized George Burbidge, the Sunday School superintendent. “May I sit down with you?” asked the kind leader. Louis nodded affirmatively. There on the curb sat a good Samaritan ministering to one who surely was in need. Several paper boats were made and launched while the conversation continued. At last the leader stood and, with a boy’s hand tightly clutching his, they returned to Sunday School. Later Louis himself presided over that same Sunday School. Throughout his long life of service, he never failed to acknowledge the traveler who rescued him along a Jericho Road.

Emily the story detective kept searching. She heard stories about her mom, who was born in a house instead of a hospital, and about Tony the pony that Uncle Josh used to ride—when he could stay on! Tony liked to scrape Josh off by running under a tree branch. She found out about the time when Great-Grandad Ernest went to the store to get fresh brown bread. The baker wrapped the bread in paper so that Grandad could carry it home. On the way, he got so hungry that he poked a little hole in the crust and ate the soft insides. “Mother was sure surprised to have hollow bread,” Grandad said, chuckling.

My next suggestion can be illustrated with an experience I had a few months ago when I stopped by to visit a dear friend. I could hear his wife in the background speaking with someone, so I quickly excused myself so he could get back to his family.
An hour or so later I received this text message from his sweet wife: “Brother Newman, thanks for coming over. We should have invited you in, but I want to share with you what we were doing. Since the pandemic we have been discussing Come, Follow Me with our adult children every Sunday over Zoom. It has literally been working miracles. I think it is the first time our daughter has read the Book of Mormon on her own. Today was the last lesson on the Book of Mormon, and we were just finishing when you came by. … I thought you would be interested to hear how Come, Follow Me, Zoom, and a pandemic have provided the opportunity at the right time to change a heart. … It makes me wonder how many little miracles have been taking place during this odd time.”

In 1989 there was a terrible earthquake in Armenia that killed over 30,000 people in four minutes. A distraught father went in frantic search of his son. He reached his son’s school only to find that it had been reduced to a pile of rubble. But he was driven by his promise to his son, “No matter what, I’ll always be there for you!” He visualized the corner where his son’s classroom would be, rushed there, and started to dig through the debris, brick by brick.

Others came on the scene—the fire chief, then the police—warning him of fires and explosions, and urging him to leave the search to the emergency crews. But he tenaciously carried on digging. Night came and went, and then, in the 38th hour of digging, he thought he heard his son’s voice. “Armand!” he called out. Then he heard, “Dad!?! It’s me, Dad! I told the other kids not to worry. I told ’em that if you were alive, you’d save me and when you saved me, they’d be saved. …

“There are 14 of us left out of 33. … When the building collapsed, it made a wedge, like a triangle, and it saved us.”

“Come on out, boy!”

“No, Dad! Let the other kids out first, ’cause I know you’ll get me! No matter what, I know you’ll be there for me!”

The young single adults (YSA) of the Assin Foso Ghana South Stake recently demonstrated the spirit of Christian service by organizing a blood donation drive to support the Assin Polyclinic blood bank. More than 25 YSA—including both members of the Church and friends from the community—rolled up their sleeves as part of their Gathering Place activity. Their gift of life not only strengthened the hospital’s capacity to respond to emergencies but also highlighted the rising generation’s commitment to service and compassion.
Hospital management expressed deep appreciation for the contribution. “God will surely bless each one of you for this life-saving service,” they shared, noting the example the youth had set for others in the community.
Although the stake president, Ebenezer Quansah, was unable to attend in person, he called by phone to thank the YSA for their devotion and sacrifice. He praised them as living examples of Christlike service and encouraged them to continue lifting and blessing others through their talents, time, and willingness to serve.
This simple but powerful act stands as a testimony that faith in Christ inspires action—and that even one donation can help save many lives.

I did like seeing my friends at church. And every Sunday after church, my dad and I would talk about the gospel. One Sunday we talked about prayer. I said I felt like I was talking to the air. My dad helped me understand more about prayer. We talked about how I was afraid of being called a goody-goody or being known as too “churchy.” My dad helped me realize I didn’t have to let negative labels keep me from doing what’s right.

Brother McConkie tells the story of Reed Smoot, who was the first Latter-day Saint to represent Utah in the United States Senate. During his service he became highly respected by his colleagues and was one of the men selected to help decide who would be nominated as a candidate for president of the United States.
“His party had won the presidency the last several elections, and most observers thought the trend would continue. It was almost conceded that this convention would name the next president of the United States. … During this convention the leaders assembled there said to Senator Smoot, ‘Senator, you may have the nomination if you want it. There is one stipulation: You will have to soft-peddle the fact that you are a Mormon.’ Senator Smoot is reported to have replied, ‘I would rather be a deacon in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints than be president of the United States.’” (P. 33.)

I believe if we respond to our responsibilities, our rights will take care of themselves—for male or female. As I was supporting my husband through his studies for his degree at Yale University, our neighbor who was doing his residency in psychiatry commented one day that I was showing overt signs of weariness. Jeff was then not only a busy student trying to complete a four-year degree in three years but was in a stake presidency and, to help earn some extra money, taught two Institute classes at Yale and one at Amherst College, necessitating a 145 kilometers drive each way once a week. I was at home with two small babies trying to stretch the meager budget of young married students. I was also serving eagerly in the Church as a young Relief Society president. This particular neighbor, out of concern and intended helpfulness, said, “Pat, why don’t you demand your rights and forget about all this?” At that time I knew through prayer that my rights, whatever they were, had to be put in the perspective of my obligation to pursue long-range goals. I certainly never thought Jeff’s degree was only for his future. And he never thought the children belonged only to me. We were in all of this together and we didn’t waste any energy shouting about rights. That time was intense and difficult, but it lasted only three years. As a direct consequence of my supportive role then, I now have time, means, and wonderful opportunities to pursue many of my interests and talents in addition to being a wife and mother. Furthermore, I know—and love knowing—that my ultimate role and mission will always include the particular joys of providing loving and wise support to others as they fulfill their own assignments.