Gospel Story Finder

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is relatively young in New Caledonia. Unlike French Polynesia, which was reached by LDS missionaries in 1844, New Caledonia’s introduction to the Church came only a few decades ago when Polynesian members came to Nouméa to work. Among them was a young Tahitian named Teahumanu Manoï. His story, and how he came to be New Caledonia’s first district president, is also the story of the Church’s beginnings there. His successors—first Ricardo Gaya, a European, and now Abel Seiko, a Melanesian—represent the next chapters.
Teahumanu Manoï joined the Church in Tahiti on 24 May 1954. It was no coincidence that he was married the same day. Térotí would not have married him otherwise. Her parents were members of the Church, and she was baptized at age eight. Determined not to marry unless it was to another Church member, Térotí worked hard to convince Teahumanu to investigate the Church.
Brother Manoï resisted at first because his father was president of the Protestant church in Tahiti, but he loved Térotí and began reading some material she gave him. His conversion came when he read in the Doctrine and Covenants about tithing. An unpaid clergy leading a congregation that supported their church through the payment of tithes seemed to Teahumanu much more Christlike than what he saw in other churches. “Christ’s service was free,” he observes. “So why shouldn’t the service of His servants also be free?”

She bustled ‘round the kitchen
like the very best of wives,
and with love she set the table—
two spoons, two forks, two knives.
She now remembers smiling
at the one she loves that day,
two actors waiting in the wings
for cues to start the play.
So life keeps going onward,
time flies, new ones arrive,
and she found she kept on adding
one more spoon, one fork, one knife
until her table glistened
with the silverware she set.
She hoped that it would always be
that way for them, and yet,
the time that kept on adding
soon began to take away—
a knife, a fork, a spoon again
until, finally, one day
with love she set the table
with two of each again,
smiling at the one she had
when all of it began.
But, oh, I hope that never
in their simple play of life
will she set the table, slowly—
one spoon, one fork, one knife.

This historic point contains the ruins of a fortress apparently built by ancient Britons. It was to this spot in 1840 that Brigham Young, Wilford Woodruff, and Willard Richards came, following the work of Brother Woodruff at Benbow’s Farm, where many were baptised. On top of the Beacon, prayers were given, and they discussed publishing the first 5,000 copies of the Book of Mormon and 3,000 copies of the hymnbook for British Saints.

President Otay, who was Brother Yefi’s branch president at that time, challenged him to pay tithing and prepare himself to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood. A few months after the interview, on a rainy, wet day, Brother Yefi appeared and asked to speak with the president about paying his first tithing donation. President Otay invited him to come in, but Brother Yefi said that he had his tithing outside—three sacks of potatoes.
Imagine this brother’s faithfulness in keeping the Lord’s commandments! He had transported three sacks of potatoes by horseback, boat, bus, and then wagon to the church.
Listening to Brother Yefi testify of the law of tithing is a special experience. “Before leaving home to bring our tithing to the bishop,” he said, “I pray to Heavenly Father to bless me that I might be honest. I would not like to have the feeling that I have stolen what really belongs to Him.”
Brother Yefi testified that the Lord has greatly blessed his family for obeying the law of tithing. At the time he was baptized, he said, he had only the minimum of necessities to sustain his family—a team of oxen which he used to plow the earth, a horse, and a few goats and sheep. But, he said with great reverence, since learning the gospel and paying his tithing, “We have been greatly blessed. I have horses, goats, sheep, and nine milking cows that give us enough milk to feed our children and to make cheese to sell. And we sow and harvest our own wheat. We are very blessed!”

Today in Primary we talked about how Travis and Luke will become deacons next year. They’ll be able to pass the sacrament then. But it made me wonder … why don’t I get the priesthood too?
We went to a corn maze for FHE and got SO LOST! While we were walking around, I asked Dad about the priesthood. He said boys and girls have different responsibilities. He also said that whenever someone serves in a Church calling, they’re using priesthood power. Both women and men. I didn’t know that.

We’ve all had experiences where we’ve had to demonstrate our determination to serve others and our willingness to press forward in faith. When my husband telephoned to tell me that our mission call had been changed to a challenging assignment in Africa, I responded, “I can do that. I think I can do that.” I demonstrated by my words my commitment to move forward in faith—trusting once again that the Lord would help me. I was showing my willingness “to grow up unto the Lord.”

I recall my surprise when visiting ancient pagan temples and tombs to discover the main “blessings” for which the idol worshippers repeatedly asked their gods: immortality, reproduction of life, and fertility for flocks, herds, and farms. These blessings were asked for in carnal and sensual rituals which appealed to the Israelites’ natural appetites, in contrast to the austere, moral, and spiritually motivated codes of behavior asked by Israel’s God for the same blessings.

Susan Barstow, 74, of Minnesota, USA, sets an example of service by knitting mittens and socks and giving them away. “They give people warmth and comfort,” she says. She also serves as her ward’s Relief Society compassionate service leader. “It’s a great calling for me,” she says, “because I am able to serve people when they are in need and to help others to do the same.”

Marcelino Tossen believed in God, read the Bible, and enjoyed talking about religion, so when the full-time missionaries knocked on his apartment door one warm January day in 1992, he invited them in. That decision changed his life.
“Elder Zanni and Elder Halls worked under the impressions of the Spirit,” recalls Marcelino. Before that first discussion had even ended, the elders told him that he would be baptized into the Church, even telling him the exact day he would be baptized.
“I’m not going to get baptized,” Marcelino countered. “I want only to talk to you.”
The missionaries gave him a Book of Mormon and asked him to read several verses and pray that night about their message. He did so but felt nothing.
During a subsequent discussion, however, Elder Zanni asked him, “Would it be all right if we prayed so you can ask Heavenly Father if what we have been teaching you is true?”
As he prayed, Marcelino says, “my heart began to burn fervently within me. Nothing like that had ever happened to me before. I couldn’t even finish my prayer, and I arose from my knees.”
Elder Zanni asked Marcelino if he had felt anything during his prayer. When Marcelino told him no, the missionary said, “I felt the Spirit very strong. It’s strange that you didn’t feel anything.”
When he admitted what he had felt, Marcelino says, “the elders read from the Doctrine and Covenants, telling me that when the Lord wants us to know if something is right, He will send His peace or make our heart burn within us [see D&C 6:23; 9:8]. That day was a turning point for me.”
From then on, the Spirit labored with him and testified of the truth through numerous spiritual experiences. “I’d feel the burning again while I was alone in my apartment,” Marcelino says. “When I would open the window, I’d see the elders nearby on a corner teaching people about the Church. I could feel when they were close, and I began to take seriously what they were teaching me.”
Marcelino received a warm welcome when he began attending church. He was baptized a short while later on April 22—the exact day the missionaries had named three months earlier. Today, after serving nine years as president of the Ushuaia district, he serves as the second counselor in the presidency of the Buenos Aires north mission.
“When we read that the Lord will ‘send forth [His] word unto the ends of the earth’ [D&C 112:4], that’s Ushuaia,” says President Tossen. “Ushuaia is the end of the earth. But for those like me who found the gospel here, it’s the beginning of everything. Here you’ll find the lighthouse at the end of the world. But here is where I found faith and the lighthouse of the Lord.”

Her dad is the bishop of the Arue Ward in the Pirae Tahiti Stake, is a sealer in the Papeete Tahiti Temple, and is a trusted employee of the Bank of Tahiti, so he is a very busy man. Yet he remembers 26 years ago, when he was a young father and the sister missionaries came to teach him the gospel. He refused to take the missionary discussions but agreed to let the sisters come and hold family home evenings. They came, and along with the prayers, the songs, the fun, and the refreshments, they taught him the gospel. Family home evening has held a special place in his heart ever since. From the time he was baptized in 1968, he has not let a single week pass without holding a family home evening.

When I was a bishop a few years ago, I interviewed a young man about going on a mission. When he said he wanted to go, I was grateful, for I felt that he’d be an outstanding missionary. He was a student body leader, a ward youth leader, tall, athletic, and so handsome that girls everywhere were attracted to him. I’ve never known a finer, more wholesome young man. A week later, he and a friend from another area, were killed in a car accident by a drunken driver.
The youth of my ward and stake were stunned—they couldn’t understand how such a thing could happen. They wept, their faith wavered. For days, groups of young people came to my home to cry and talk and pray about the tragedy of this young man’s death.
His funeral drew so many people that the chapel, cultural hall, and foyers were filled. Throughout the funeral service, as we reviewed the young man’s life and aspirations, the youth wept openly, vented sorrow, confronted tragedy and loss, and had their faith restored or strengthened. For years afterward they told me that meeting had changed their lives forever—some went on missions who hadn’t planned to go, others set goals of temple marriage, others changed their life-styles to be in more complete harmony with gospel principles.

The Haiti temple groundbreaking was held Oct. 28, 2018, presided over by Elder Walter F. González, General Authority Seventy and president of the Church’s Caribbean Area. Counselors of the Caribbean Area presidency—Elder Claudio D. Zivic and Elder Jose L. Alonso—also participated.

“The temple groundbreaking ceremony was a wonderful spiritual experience,” said Elder Walter F. González in October 2018. “I can only think about everlasting joy and gratitude for all that the temple means in our lives. It is hard to express with words. This was a day of joy and gratitude when we start to build a portal to heaven as we come to better understand the importance of the covenants made in the temple and how they impact our daily lives, both in this time and eternity.”

I attended many general conference sessions in the Tabernacle, always being edified and inspired by the words of the Brethren. Then, in October of 1963, President David O. McKay invited me to his office and extended to me a call to serve as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. He asked that I keep this sacred call confidential, revealing it to no one except my wife, and that I be present for general conference in the Tabernacle the next day, when my name would be read aloud.
The following morning I came into the Tabernacle not knowing exactly where to sit. Being a member of the Priesthood Home Teaching Committee, I determined that I would be seated among the members of that committee. I noticed a friend of mine by the name of Hugh Smith, who was also a member of the Priesthood Home Teaching Committee. He motioned for me to sit by him. I couldn’t say a thing to him about my call, but I sat down.
During the session, the members of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles were sustained and, of course, my name was read. I believe the walk from the audience to the stand was the longest walk of my life.

Corey: Did you ever see it rain that hard before? I thought that I was going to have to start growing gills like a fish.
Dale: And it got dark so fast!
Morgan: Dad says that they often get sudden storms in these mountains.
Dale: We’re lucky that we were close to this cave when the rain started.
Corey: It’s not very much of a cave.
Dale: No, but at least we’re out of the rain.
Corey: Hey, what if … ? Nah.
Dale: What if what, Corey?
Corey: I was just wondering if any animals use this cave.
Dale: You mean like a mountain lion or a bear or something?
Morgan: Dad said that he didn’t think there were any mountain lions or bears still around here. But we have seen deer, and once we heard some coyotes.
Dale: Coyotes don’t attack people, do they?
Corey: If they’re trying to protect their babies, they might.
Morgan: Well, there aren’t any coyote pups or other animals here, or we’d hear them.
Corey: It’s awfully dark! Maybe some old mountain lion dragged its prey up here to eat, and these aren’t rocks we’re sitting on, but old bones.
Dale: Corey, stop imagining things! And why are you always thinking about food?
Morgan: I’m a little hungry myself. At least when we get back to the cabin, Mom will have dinner ready.
Corey: And we’ll have dry clothes to change into.
Morgan: And after dinner we can crawl into our sleeping bags and watch the fire in the fireplace.
Corey: And tell ghost stories!
Dale: Listen! The rain is letting up. [They pause to listen.]
Morgan: It is stopping.
Corey: I’m beginning to taste that stew already.
Morgan: And toasted marshmallows.
Corey: Let’s go!
Morgan: The ground will be slippery, so we’ll have to be careful.
[Dale bows his head, shakes it, then looks up again.]
Dale: I don’t think that we should go yet.
Morgan: But the rain’s stopped.
Corey: And I’m hungry.
Dale: No. We need to wait.
Corey: What’s the matter with you? Are you scared of the dark?
Dale: No, it isn’t that.
Morgan: It’s easy to find our way back. We just have to climb down the hill to the bottom of Anklebone Canyon. It’s so narrow that we can touch both canyon walls while we follow the riverbed to the trail that leads up to our cabin.
Corey: And the sooner we get started, the sooner we’ll get that hot stew.
Dale: I just have this feeling that we shouldn’t go yet.
Corey: Well, I have feelings, too—feelings of being hungry and cold and wet.
Dale: I feel all those things, too, Corey. But I have this stronger feeling that we shouldn’t go yet.
Corey: Think of Morgan’s parents. They’ll be worried about us.
Morgan: And what if this cave is the home of some kind of animal and it comes back now that the rain’s stopped?
Dale: All I know is that we ought to stay here.
[Corey and Morgan grumble a bit and try to push Dale out of the cave.]
Morgan: Wait a minute. Do you hear something?
Corey: Nothing but water dripping off the trees.
Dale: I hear it—a faint rumbling sound.
Corey: I hear it now. It’s probably just the storm off in the distance.
Morgan: We’d better hurry back.
Corey [To Dale]: Are you coming or not?
Dale: No, and you’d better stay too.
Morgan: This feeling of yours, Dale—is it like being scared that we’re in some kind of danger?
Dale: Sort of. But mostly it’s just a feeling that we should stay where we are.
Morgan: I’ve had that feeling before when I’ve prayed for Heavenly Father to help me. I’d get this strong feeling inside of me about what I should do, and I’d feel real calm and peaceful.
Corey: I’ve been baptized and received the gift of the Holy Ghost, and I don’t feel anything right now but my teeth chattering.
Morgan: Maybe you’re not really listening.
Dale: Just put everything else out of your mind and listen “inside.”
Corey: You two are making too much out of this. I’m not waiting around here to freeze to death when I can be eating hot stew at the cabin in less than half an hour.
[Corey starts to leave, but Dale grabs his arm.]
Dale: Wait a minute, Corey. Listen to that noise. It’s not the storm—it’s coming from below us!
Morgan: It sounds like a giant waterfall.
Corey: With rocks crashing against each other.
Dale: You know what that sound is? It’s a flash flood!
Morgan: You’re right!
Corey: Do you think that it will reach us up here?
Dale: No, we’ll be safe this high.
Morgan: And the cabin is high enough to be safe.
Corey: But if we had started back—
Morgan: We’d have been caught in the bottom of the canyon!
Corey: We could have been killed!
Dale: Well, we’re OK now.
Morgan: Thanks to you, Dale. You stuck up for what you felt was right, and because you did, you saved our lives!
Dale: I’m just thankful that the Holy Ghost guides us when we need help.
Morgan: But some of us need to listen a little better to the promptings of the Spirit.
Corey: That’s right—and to the promptings of good friends too!

The apple went spinning to the ground. Clint was getting pretty good with his homemade slingshot. He had made it from a strong Y-shaped stick and a thick rubber band and had been practicing with it all day. Now his aim was good enough to knock an apple right out of a tree.
He saw a car coming down the road and wondered if he could hit a moving target as small as a taillight on a car. He closed one eye, pulled the rock back to his ear, and let it go. Crack! The sound of breaking plastic and glass was followed by the tinkle of pieces of glass and plastic hitting the pavement. Clint gasped. He’d actually hit the taillight of that car!
In a panic, he dropped his slingshot and scooted up the apple tree, hiding among the leaves. The car screeched to a stop, and a man jumped out. He walked around to look at his broken light, then glared straight at Clint’s hiding place.
“I know you’re up there!” he bellowed. “I saw you. You’d better get down here before I call the police!”
Clint didn’t move. He recognized the man. It was Brother Ernest, who always complained about how noisy the kids were when he went to church. Clint did not want to talk to him.
After a few minutes, Brother Ernest got back into his car and drove away. Clint waited a long time. It was nearly dark when he finally climbed down. He picked up his slingshot, pulled off the rubber band, then flung the stick into the bushes and walked slowly down the road, feeling worse with every step. By the time he got home, he was miserable, and it showed.
“What’s wrong?” Clint’s mother asked when he came into the house. Feeling that he could carry the burden no further, he blurted out everything. His mother put a hand on his shoulder. “What do you think you should do now?” she asked softly.
“I know what I need to do,” Clint said. “I just don’t want to do it.”
She nodded. “It’s hard to make things right when you’ve done wrong. But if you do your part, the Lord will take care of the rest. And you’ll feel good again. I’ll drive you to Brother Ernest’s house, if that will make it any easier.”
Without a word, Clint went out to the car. When they arrived at Brother Ernest’s house, he saw the car with its broken taillight in the driveway. He was relieved that there were no police cars.
The house was dark, and he had a glimmer of hope that maybe Brother Ernest wasn’t home. Clint slowly climbed the front steps and rang the doorbell. A dog barked. The porch light suddenly came on, and the door was flung open.
There stood Brother Ernest. “Ah-ha! You’ve come to pay your dues!”
“S-sorry about your car light, B-brother Ernest,” Clint stammered. “I’ll pay you for it.”
“You bet you will! I’ll send the bill to your parents, and if you don’t pay, I’m calling the police.” He slammed the door and turned off the light, leaving Clint standing alone in the dark.
It took Clint more than three months to repay his parents. It took all his allowance, all his paper-route money, plus anything extra he earned doing chores. But at last the bill was paid in full. And Clint discovered that his mother had been right. He did feel good again. He was glad that he had done the right thing. He was particularly glad the next time he saw Brother Ernest. …
It was Clint’s first Sunday as a deacon, and he and another deacon, Dan, were assigned to collect fast offerings. He was surprised when the second house they visited was Brother Ernest’s. It was shabbier than Clint remembered. The front step was warped, and the porch light was broken. Seeing the porch light brought back all those memories about the broken car light. He wondered briefly if someone had broken the porch light with a slingshot and hadn’t repaired it. Suddenly he felt sorry for Brother Ernest.
“This one’s yours,” Dan whispered, handing Clint the fast-offering envelope. Clint took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and rang the doorbell.
There was a sound of movement within the house. Then the front door opened slowly and Brother Ernest peered out. “What do you want?” he asked gruffly.
Clint swallowed hard. “We’re from the Church, Brother Ernest. We’re collecting fast offerings.”
“Don’t you people ever give up?” Brother Ernest grumbled. “Go away and stop bothering me.”
Clint was turning away when the front door suddenly opened wide, and Brother Ernest stepped out onto the porch. He peered closely at Clint. “Don’t I know you, boy?”
Clint stood up straighter. “Yes, sir.”
“Weren’t you that boy who—”
“Who bought you a new taillight? Yes, sir, I am.”
Brother Ernest stared at him in surprise for a few moments and then did something Clint had never seen him do before. He smiled. “You’ve changed, boy,” he said.
Clint shrugged. “When we do our part, the Lord takes care of the rest.”
Brother Ernest seemed to ponder Clint’s words a moment. He nodded. “You keep your envelope. I’ll pay my offerings next week at church. And I expect to see you there, too, young man. I don’t want to find you hiding in some apple tree.”
Clint smiled. “I don’t need to hide anymore.”

Your teacher assigns you to write a paper, due in two weeks, on a book your class just read. What do you do?
Option 1
Day 1—Get the assignment, go home, review the book, think about your impressions of it, and take notes. (30 minutes)
Day 2
Day 3
Day 4—Look up passages in the book that support your ideas about it. Add them to your notes. (45 minutes)
Day 5
Day 6—Review notes and organize your thoughts. (15 minutes)
Day 7
Day 8—Write an outline from your notes. (30 minutes)
Day 9—Write a rough draft based on your outline. (90 minutes)
Day 10
Day 11—Read your rough draft. Revise and cut it down because it’s unnecessarily wordy. (20 minutes)
Day 12—Give your draft to someone to read, get feedback, and revise it again. (30 minutes)
Day 13—Do a final revision, checking for spelling and other errors, and print out the paper. (15 minutes)
Get a good night’s sleep.
Day 14—Go to class and hand in your paper calmly and confidently.
Later—Get your paper back and see that you got a good grade. Best of all, you feel that you actually learned something from the assignment.

Chantal has had similar experiences. “A boy in my school I didn’t even know came up to me and asked my name and asked if I was active in a certain church he named. I said, ‘No, I’m a Mormon.’ He told me that he could see from my eyes that I was different, that I had principles.”

It’s what’s inside that counts, at least that’s what Mom always said. And while Joshua didn’t understand everything that that meant, he was sure that his mom knew what she was talking about when it came to chocolate-covered cherries. They were one of his dad’s favorite treats at Christmastime, and they had become one of Josh’s also.
This wonderful candy was shaped like a little pitcher’s mound with a swirl of chocolate on top. And while the chocolate outside was good, it was the inside that Joshua really loved: a gooey, sticky, sweet, white cream and liquid surrounding a delicious maraschino cherry. The liquid center sometimes made it a little difficult to eat without making a mess, but that challenge was all part of the fun.
Sometimes he bit right into the top and looked down as if looking into a volcano with a red-hot-lava cherry. Sometimes this caused the side to break, and the hot lava came gushing out onto his hand, making him slurp and lick as quickly as he could to keep from getting sticky all over. Sometimes he tried to eat one in one gigantic bite. Being only six, that was a lot of candy in his mouth and sometimes a little juice squirted out onto his chin.
But his favorite way to eat a chocolate-covered cherry was to turn it upside down and carefully nibble off the bottom piece of chocolate. That left him with a little cup full of delicious syrup with a cherry floating in it like ice cream in root beer floats. Then he would sip a little juice and nibble a little chocolate. He could eat the cherry inside whenever he wanted, but he usually saved it for his last bite!
One Saturday before Christmas, Dad asked that magic question, “Who wants a chocolate-covered cherry?” The family had just finished lunch, and Joshua thought that it was the perfect time for just such a treat.
Joshua and his brother, Jacob, both cried, “Me! Me!” Jaclyn, their older sister, would certainly want one, too, but she had finished lunch early and was in another room on the computer.
“Wait!” Dad said. He was standing in the kitchen, holding the box of cherries with a sad look on his face. “There are only two chocolate-covered cherries left. What should we do?”
Josh thought about it. They could cut one in half. They had done that before with other candy. But cutting a chocolate-covered cherry would only make a big mess and ruin the candy. They could just quietly eat them in the kitchen, and Jaclyn wouldn’t even know. But he knew that that wasn’t really fair.
He started to think about the family home evening lesson they’d had that week. They had learned that Christmas is the celebration of Christ’s birth and how He came to earth to give us all a very special gift that only He could give. The family had talked about how Christmas isn’t about all the things you get but about showing love to your family and friends.
Suddenly a wonderful and terrible thought entered his mind. It was terrible because it meant missing out on his favorite treat. It was wonderful because it was what Joshua knew that Jesus would want him to do.
“Dad,” he said, “you can give mine to Jaclyn.” He almost couldn’t believe his own mouth was saying those words. But as soon as he said them, he felt a wonderful, warm feeling inside. It was as if his whole insides had become like the inside of a chocolate-covered cherry—sweet and happy.
“Are you sure, Josh?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Josh said, this time with a smile on his face.
Dad gave the last piece to Jaclyn, and Josh couldn’t believe that he could be so happy about not getting a chocolate-covered cherry.
That night, after pajamas were put on, teeth were brushed, prayers were said, and Mom and Dad had kissed everyone and tucked them into bed, Joshua lay awake thinking about his day. As the glow from the Christmas lights on the house filtered into his room, he thought about his decision to give the last chocolate-covered cherry to Jaclyn and how happy she had been and how wonderful that had made him feel. And then he realized his mom was right—it is what’s on the inside that counts!

Recognizing their inadequacy, some of the girls went to heroic lengths to teach themselves. Mathilde Nielsen, born in Copenhagen, was brought to the United States when she was six, and her family settled in a Scandinavian village in Morgan County called Milton. The family was very poor. Mathilde had to milk ten cows and do the housework; card, spin, weave, and sew; and help tend her little brothers and sisters. Her mother died when she was 12; Mathilde had to “get out and rustle,” as she expressed it. By the time she was 16, she was working in a household in Ogden, making $3 per week. While there, she received a letter from her brother Waldemer, asking her to write home. But she had never written a letter! Let her tell the story:
“I will never forget my first letter [that] I ever tried to write. My brother insisted I write when he knew I had never had a pencil in my hand. But I was game. I got a book with the letters in and a lead pencil and paper, and started to write. It didn’t look so bad while I was writing, but when I got it finished I couldn’t read one word. I rolled it in a little ball and started to cry and was going to put it in the stove. I changed my mind. Instead, I sat down, smoothed it out, and sent it. I thought he would never ask me to write again. Just as quick as my brother could answer, a letter came back. He said he could read every word. If he hadn’t answered my questions, I would have thought he was fibbing. He begged me to write again. I did and kept on writing until it looked pretty fair.”
Mathilde continued to write the rest of her life, and because of that her grandchildren and great-grandchildren are able to know about her fascinating life. Her legacy was a marvelous, if brief, personal history.

My dear brothers and sisters, as I sit back to reflect upon the prophet’s invitation to give thanks. I learned to give thanks for those blessings we overlooked. This 2020 is a year to be remembered with all the challenges. The Lord is so merciful, caring, and loving to me and my family for the gift of life.
—Michael Ogbole Oboh from Ijoko Branch, Lagos Nigeria Agege Stake