Gospel Story Finder

Deep snowpack in European mountains and heavy spring rains earlier this year filled the Danube River to its highest level in 65 years, causing severe flooding along the southern border of Romania and down into the Danube Delta near the Black Sea. Runoff was strong and powerful, breaking dikes built several years ago to prevent such flooding.
Fertile farmland was flooded and hundreds of small farms and houses were crumbled in its wake, leaving thousands homeless. Many of the older houses were built with a chalk-like material that crumbles when wet.
Refugee camps were established near many villages. Those living near the Danube fled their homes with only the clothes they were wearing.
With funding approved by the Europe Central Area presidency, Church humanitarian resources, missionaries, and members in Romania provided immediate relief to flood victims. Members from 4 of the 22 branches in Romania, along with 18 full-time missionaries, lined up in a meetinghouse in Bucharest to assemble more than 3,000 hygiene kits and food packets. These packets, with blankets, bread, and bottled water, were delivered to the Spantov, Chiselet, and Manasterea villages along the Danube River.
This was believed to be the largest emergency relief project undertaken by the Church in Romania, said humanitarian country directors Steven and Kristine Johnston.
“I feel so good. I feel satisfied,” said one member from Bucharest as three large delivery trucks were in the final stages of loading. Vasile Andreea and her 15-year-old brother, Vasile Marius-Florin, and a newly baptized member, Cosma Adrian, spent much of the day helping create the kits and loading the trucks. They enjoyed it so much that they found their own transportation to the afflicted villages, located more than 100 kilometers to the southeast of Bucharest, where they helped with distribution.
Many of the more than 3,000 flood victims expressed gratitude for the Church’s humanitarian donation. One woman told missionaries, “Another church brought us little crosses, but the Mormons brought us food.”
Another flood victim told President John Ashby of the Romania Bucharest Mission, “I didn’t know what I was going to eat tonight. All I have are the clothes on my back.”
During a visit to the afflicted area prior to the distribution of the packets, Elder and Sister Johnston met a little boy named Cosmin. His house had been destroyed and he was living under a tarp.
When the Johnstons returned a while later with food, he and his family were nowhere to be found.
“We desperately wanted to find them,” said Elder Johnston. “We promised them we would return with help. We left the distribution to others and began scouring the faces in the crowd of refugees, hoping to find him and his father and mother.
“Near the end of the day, after most materials were distributed, we found them standing off a distance from everyone else, waiting patiently. They were a contrast to the majority who pushed and shoved their way to the front of the line. We were touched by their humility and gratitude. Little Cosmin soon brought us flowers and said, ‘Thank you.’”
“I think [members having the opportunity to serve] was the most gratifying aspect of this project. We hope all the members here know that their Church is truly concerned with the less fortunate and follows the Lord’s admonition to care for the poor and needy,” Elder Johnston said. “The comfort provided by Church members and missionaries made a big difference to many people, both to the recipients and to those providing the service.”

The youngest of 12 children, Karina likes being part of a big family. Since most of her brothers and sisters are much older than she is, Karina is especially close to her brother Germán, who is 12 years old. Germán says of Karina, “I like her because she is happy and fun.”
Germán always looks out for her. But Karina herself looks out for and takes special care of her two-year-old niece Ruth. She loves Ruth and lets her cling to her sweater sleeve when they are together. Karina walks slowly so Ruth can keep up with her, and she tries to make sure others notice and pay attention to Ruth.

I have been a member of the Church for more than ten years. As an officer in the Democratic Republic of the Congo military, I have experienced tremendous difficulty arranging to travel from my home to attend the Johannesburg South Africa Temple and to participate in sacred ordinances there. Over the years I made several requests to my superior officers for permission to travel to South Africa with my family, but still it was difficult to leave Kinshasa given the regime changes which had taken place in our country.
After several attempts to persuade through my chain of command—still without success—I made a decision to discuss the situation with our local priesthood leaders to seek their guidance and direction. Together we pleaded for divine help. Then one day, I was reading 1 Nephi 3:7, which says: “And it came to pass that I, Nephi, said unto my father: I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them.” I realized even more that by always obeying the commandments of the Lord, God provides the means for His children to accomplish the things which He has commanded them.
Then a few years later, at the October 2011 General Conference, then Church President Thomas S. Monson announced plans for the construction of the Kinshasa Temple. At that moment I was far away—more than 1700 km from my home, which is in Kinshasa. My wife Guylaine Kakudji Koyengule, filled with joy at hearing the announcement, phoned to tell me the news—and it was really a day of great joy for me and my family.
After this announcement we looked forward to the groundbreaking and construction. And now our Kinshasa Temple has just been dedicated!
Today I live about five to ten minutes away from the temple. Even without transportation means, I still am able to go there. I know that Heavenly Father truly listens to His children’s prayers and that He answers in due time. I also know that the temple is the House of the Lord and that through the covenants we make with our Heavenly Father in His house—the temple—we will be saved.
John Koyengule is a member of the Gombe GB Ward, Kinshasa Democratic Republic of the Congo Stake.

Three of her four children joined the Church with her, and all of them are still active Latter-day Saints. “When I was first being taught, the children would laugh behind the door. After I received my own testimony of the gospel, I got them to promise that they would listen to one discussion. I told the missionaries that they had better be good, because the children had promised to listen just this once. The elders prepared a very fine flannel-board presentation, after which the children promised that they would also join the Church. It is true, though, that the youngest son, Eikki, later said the reason he joined the Church was that his mother told him to,” Sister Rinne says, laughing.

I could see the young deacons losing interest as my mission companion talked. He was explaining the importance of doing missionary work with their friends.
One young man finally spoke up, “What can I do? I’m only thirteen. My friends aren’t interested in the Church. And even if they were, their parents wouldn’t let them be baptized.”
My companion kept talking with the young men, but my mind went back to when I was about twelve years old.
I had a best friend, Chris. We did everything together. But whenever a group of us would gather to do something mischievous, as boys sometimes do, Chris would refuse to take part. He said his parents would be mad if they found out.
Then one day I talked Chris into stealing tennis balls from some men playing tennis on the local courts. He followed me, even helped me gather a handful of balls, and then ran with me through the hole in the fence. When we arrived at my house, I noticed that Chris’s face was white.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“We’ve got to take these balls back,” he blurted out.
“No way. They’re ours now,” I replied. But Chris grabbed them and started to run. I had always been faster than Chris, but I couldn’t catch him that day. He ran right to the tennis players and gave every ball back. He said he was sorry and then did something I’d never seen before. He asked them for forgiveness. I just knew the men would call the police, but they let him go.
When we got home, I had a few questions for my best friend.
“I’m a Mormon,” he said.
“I know. You told me.”
“But I didn’t tell you how important my church is to me.” He went on to explain the standards of honesty he had been taught and how he could not feel right about stealing.
Six weeks later, I found myself in a font, ready to be baptized a Latter-day Saint.
Suddenly my attention returned to the deacons in front of me. I don’t know if it made much difference to those boys, but I told them how a young man their age had brought me into the Church. I told them they could and should do missionary work. They could teach with their example, just as Chris had done.

At Christmastime no gift that we wrap will mean as much as the gift of ourselves. Several years ago some of the General Authorities were hurrying to leave the building during the Christmas hustle and bustle time. As we drove home, I noticed Elder Bruce R. McConkie leaving at the same time. It was several weeks later that I learned that instead of going home as most of the rest of us had done, he had gone to the LDS Hospital and there had gone from room to room blessing people, holding their hands, telling them that the Savior and others loved them. And so during that precious time when the rest of us felt we needed to be home, he took a few minutes to bring light into those people’s lives.

In 1986, President Ezra Taft Benson promised the Saints that the power of the Book of Mormon would begin to flow into our lives the moment we began a serious study of the book (see Ensign, November 1986, page 7). Inspired by his promise, my wife and I decided to start reading the Book of Mormon with our family.
At the time we had four children, ages six months to six years. At first, we were able to read only one column each day. With 531 pages and twice that many columns, the book seemed like a never-ending undertaking.
Despite, or maybe because of, how slowly we read, we made every effort to read each weekday. Our children were eager to please—often waking us to start reading. Although we missed very few days, it took us more than six months to read 1 Nephi.
By this time our two oldest children were able to read a few words by themselves. As we slowly made our way through 2 Nephi, including quotations from the writings of Isaiah, we were growing as a family in spiritual as well as other ways. We added a daily devotional time and another child to the family. Dirty diapers and cries of hunger often interrupted our reading, but each day we would finish our allotted column no matter how long it seemed to take.
About the time our oldest turned 11 years old, we started reading at an accelerated pace—one page per day. As we neared the middle of that year, we received word that the Alberta Temple would be rededicated the next spring, an event our family had been looking forward to. We did some calculating and found that if we continued reading at the same pace, we would have one chapter of the Book of Mormon left to read on the day the dedication would begin. We planned to travel the 1,200 kilometers to attend this event, rise early that morning, and drive to the temple grounds to read the last chapter.
The morning of the dedication dawned bright and clear. The temple grounds were beautiful, and we sat down behind the old stone monument as we prepared to read.
The Spirit seemed to be with us more strongly than usual as we finished the chapter and concluded the volume of scripture. It had taken us about five years to complete reading it. We each took a turn praying for confirmation that the Book of Mormon was indeed the word of God. We didn’t see any angels or hear voices, but we did feel the calm, peaceful, loving presence of the Holy Ghost. Tears filled our eyes as the Spirit testified to each of us of the truthfulness and sacredness of the Book of Mormon.
We gave thanks for the opportunity we’d had to become closer to the great prophets of the Book of Mormon and for the blessings that we had received through reading their words—blessings of increased faith, strength in the face of adversity, and greater love and tranquility in our home. Indeed, we had received the blessings a prophet of God had promised us.

I have visited with a woman who received the miracle of sufficient strength to endure unimaginable losses with just the simple capacity to repeat endlessly the words “I know that my Redeemer lives.” That faith and those words of testimony were still there in the mist that obscured but did not erase memories of her childhood.
I was stunned to learn that another woman had forgiven a person who had wronged her for years. I was surprised and asked her why she had chosen to forgive and forget so many years of spiteful abuse.
She said quietly, “It was the hardest thing I have ever done, but I just knew I had to do it. So I did.” Her faith that the Savior would forgive her if she forgave others prepared her with a feeling of peace and hope as she faced death just months after she had forgiven her unrepentant adversary.
She asked me, “When I get there, how will it be in heaven?”
And I said, “I know just from what I have seen of your capacity to exercise faith and to forgive that it will be a wonderful homecoming for you.”

The Young Men, Young Women, and youth leaders of the Rigby Second Ward, Rigby East Idaho Stake, managed to read the entire Book of Mormon in 45 minutes during an activity night!
Well, they did divide it up a bit. Each one took the responsibility for reading several chapters. Everyone took a colored leaf with a reading assignment on it, and on the back they wrote what they had learned from it. The leaves were then put together to make a tree representing the one in Lehi’s dream.
Comments included things like “God will show you miracles after you show him your faith” and “I learned the righteous are blessed and helped by the Lord.”

Mention Lake Powell to anyone in the western United States, and chances are he’ll think of fishing, water skiing, broiling in the sun, or diving from rock formations into the refreshing cool of green aqua depths. Mention the reservoir to Scouts from Troop 756 in Mesa, Arizona, however, and the reaction will be completely different. They’ll talk about merit badges!
Sure, the boating, swimming, and hiking were part of their activity at Lake Powell, too. But these Scouts used their week-long summer camp for more than just goofing around. By carefully planning and preparing in advance, they were able to meet some, if not all, of the requirements for Reptile Study, Fishing, Swimming, Camping, Cooking, Emergency Preparedness, Wilderness Survival, Nature, and Water Skiing merit badges, and have fun at the same time. In addition, four young men won their mile swim award. All told, the 12 Scouts on the trip earned 60 merit badges.
The troop met several times before the camp to review requirements for each badge and to encourage each Scout to do as much as possible before the trip. The stake president and other adults accompanied the group to act as counselors who could approve the work completed for the badges and offer advice about proper camping methods.
The bugle announced morning each day at 5:00 A.M. Flag-raising ceremonies, group prayer, and breakfast quickly followed, then cleanup, and if there was time, perhaps a few minutes of early morning fishing. But classes started at 7:00.
The Scoutmaster, Brother Bruce Bosley, had prepared a booklet for each troop member and leader, listing a schedule of classes in merit badge skills along with a schedule of camp chores. The troop was divided into three class groups, allowing students to work closely with instructors. Of course, some activities included the entire troop, like the nature hike, which showed that even in barren country, it’s possible to find the 12 different plants required for a leaf collection in the Nature merit badge.
The troop also tied knots, learned canoe rescue techniques, cooked and ate edible wild plants, and built improvised shelters from Russian thistles.
The Scouts felt a sense of accomplishment that night. They had had a great time, it’s true. That’s easy at Lake Powell. But they’d also learned to organize themselves and work hard together, and they had memories and merit badges to prove it.

When a service opportunity came up at the Food Bank of Mexico, three young women (including myself), one young man from our youth group, and 10 others decided to participate.
At first, I had no idea what we were going to do. But soon people at the food bank explained that we were going to separate perishable and non-perishable foods into grocery bags to make food packages for people in need. Our group divided the tasks, and then we started packing. We worked quickly as a team and put together more than 500 grocery bags!
From this experience I learned that even if we don’t have many resources ourselves, we can still help others who have even less. Little by little, we can all help in different ways. I know that we are blessed when we serve.
I really liked serving at the food bank. If I were given the opportunity to do it again, of course I would! It was great to be able to serve others. If you have the opportunity to serve, do it! And do it with all your heart and good cheer.

After his brother had fallen asleep and their candle had burned out, Gaelin lay awake. The room was black, except where the moon shone through the window. He was trying to remember something so that he could forget how dark it was and how the shadows looked like wicked giants on the wall.
Only that morning, Gaelin had held the big stallion’s reins as he watched his father, Sir Gareth, swing into the saddle. Equipped with shield and sword, Sir Gareth had smiled at Gaelin through kindly eyes and said, “Now, my little knight, take good care of your brothers and sisters while I’m gone. And remember, Son, that true courage is fear that has said its prayers.” Then he had turned his charger and joined others of King Arthur’s knights as they assembled for a journey.
The next morning Gaelin arose early, dressed quickly, and ran down the stairs. He didn’t think about Sir Gareth’s words again until it was dark. Shivering more because of the eerie shadows than the cold, he went to his room.
That evening about eleven o’clock, a storm blew in from the ocean. The thunder and lightning were the worst part. Loud thunderclaps shook the stone walls of the castle. Gaelin and his little brother shivered under their wolfskins until they fell asleep.
It was past midnight when Gaelin’s mother came into the room and found the boys asleep. She whispered Gaelin’s name, and he awoke with a start. “What’s wrong, Mother?” he asked.
“Your littlest sister is very sick,” she replied. “Get up and dress quickly! The stableboy is saddling your pony. You must ride to the village and fetch old Grimbauld. She can save Leonora if anyone can!”
“The village?” Gaelin stared at his mother in horror. “But it’s five miles away … and it’s thundering and raining so hard!” He bit his lip, terrified of riding in the storm. Then he looked at his mother’s anxious face and whispered, “I’ll go.”
In a few minutes he was on his way, with the wind tugging at his cloak and teasing his pony’s tail. Brennet, his pony, lowered his head and drove himself into the rain while Gaelin held up the lantern his mother had given him. The boy squinted into the wind and bumped the pony’s sides with his heels.
Gaelin was soaking wet and cold even before he reached the forest. Five miles of forest, he worried. It’s dark and howling with wind and full of bears and dragons! Can I make it? His tiny lantern threatened to go out at any moment, and then he would certainly become lost!
The trail through the forest was well worn, and Gaelin urged Brennet into a gallop. The best way is to do it quickly, he decided. Then there won’t be time to be frightened. But the lantern swung wildly, and its moving shadows looked like dark giants bounding from behind old twisted trees to carry him away!
Brennet was strong-winded and had been ridden often, so Gaelin kept him running until he steamed beneath the saddlecloth and his breath came hard. Surely I’m almost to the village, Gaelin thought.
They stopped only once, when there was an explosion and a blinding flash ahead. The pony reared up on his hind legs, snorting. Gaelin didn’t fall, but he felt his heart pounding in his throat. Even so, he encouraged Brennet on.
As they rounded a bend, Gaelin saw the tree. Blackened and still smoking from the lightning, it had fallen across the path. He swallowed hard, gripped the pony’s sides tightly with his knees, and urged him to jump. But Brennet was too tired. He couldn’t spring high enough from the muddy earth, and his front hooves didn’t clear the branches. The pony tumbled headlong on the other side, pitching Gaelin from his saddle so that he struck the ground with the arm that held the lantern.
When Gaelin sat up, he was surrounded by blackness. The lantern was smashed! He couldn’t see the trees, his pony, or even the puddle he’d landed in. Fighting back tears because it was unknightly to cry, he suddenly remembered Sir Gareth’s words: Remember that courage is fear that has said its prayers.
With the storm crashing overhead, Gaelin knelt and prayed: “Please, dear God, don’t let me be frightened anymore! My little sister is very sick, and I must get help. Help me to find the way and not be scared! In the name of Christ our Lord, amen.”
Brennet was snuffling at the boy’s shoulder. Gaelin found the reins, swung up onto the pony, and started off once more. The moon was beginning to show its round face between the clouds, and the storm was moving up the countryside.
In front of old Grimbauld’s cottage, Gaelin tumbled off his exhausted mount and pounded on the heavy door with a hand that no longer shook. The kind peasant woman, wrapped in a thick shawl, brought him in to sit beside her little fire. With a dry sheepskin around him, he delivered his message.
Gaelin was warm by the time she’d gathered her herbs and other things and bridled her mule. She paused in the doorway and looked at him kindly. “You came all that way through the storm, boy? Weren’t you frightened? You must have the courage of a knight!”
Gaelin only smiled as he went out to take care of faithful Brennet. He wasn’t frightened anymore, and he knew that little Leonora would soon be well.

A violent wind pulled at my hair and hurled me towards the automatic doors. “I hate hospitals,” I murmured to myself as I entered. “Why do I always have to be sick?” I was at Primary Children’s Medical Center in Salt Lake City for yet another round of tests, which would later reveal that I had epilepsy. I felt as if all I ever did was spend time in the hospital.
On this autumn day, I was feeling particularly unpleasant and detested the fact that at 14, I was still forced to stay at a hospital that I thought was just for babies. It just wasn’t fair! How could all my other friends live in one big whirlwind of teenage fun while I was forced to bear such a heavy burden?
In the midst of my self-pity, my eyes were drawn to a boy who was about five or six years old, sitting in a wheelchair in the gift shop with his mother.
“Please, Momma,” he said softly, holding up a toy, “please can I get this?”
His mother looked at the toy, then at the little boy and said, “No, sweetheart, we can’t afford that.”
Although I was sure he was disappointed, the little boy’s reaction surprised me. He smiled and set the toy back on the shelf.
As his mother wheeled him back down the hall, I picked up the toy, paid for it, and rushed out of the gift shop. When I caught up with them, I handed the little boy the toy and said, “This toy wants to go home with you!”
The little boy’s face turned serious, and he said, “You got this for me?”
I smiled and looked at his mother, who had tears coming down her cheeks, but she was smiling.
I turned to walk away, and as I turned the corner down the hall, I heard the little boy say, “I know who that was, Mommy. That was an angel.” His mother laughed quietly and said, “I know.”
Giving him a small gift seemed to make a big difference, not only for him but for me too. At that moment, I forgot to be selfish, and despite the fact that my problems didn’t magically disappear, I suddenly felt a whole lot better.

I love Emmanuel and Adiza Nelson. They are from Ghana. I respect them and want to share a part of their life story with you. They decided long ago to exercise faith in Christ consistently and constantly. That decision has changed their lives. With their permission, I will share some of their history. It is written in their words, with a little of my editing.
After joining the Church as a young married couple, they say: “We felt a sense of belonging. The members helped us modify our lives through the teachings and knew we were in the right place. We attended church regularly, learnt about the principles and commandments so we could govern ourselves.”
They learned as new members about the Word of Wisdom. Brother Nelson worked at a tobacco factory, but that seemed inconsistent with the Word of Wisdom. So, they together decided that he would quit: “He resigned his job without any employment in sight.” This decision brought them many financial challenges. Sister Nelson had a “scanty salary as a staff nurse midwife” at the time and Brother Nelson “tried many odd jobs to help sustain the family.” Sister Nelson also “did a lot of petty trading such as selling fresh fish, sugar, roasted groundnut and peanut butter after work from house to house in effort to sustain the family ... We became very industrious. We learnt a lot of things that could help sustain the family.”
During this challenging time, Brother Nelson “assisted in most of the house chores like washing, cleaning, ironing, cooking, baking and even taking care of our son while [Sister Nelson was] at work in the hospital. He wrote to many companies for employment, but he never succeeded.”
The Nelsons exercised their faith in Christ constantly and consistently. In their words: “Even though we were financially hard-pressed to take care of our children and those of our relatives, we NEVER missed paying a full tithe on our increase and did not deliberately miss church. There were times he had to walk to church on Sundays and walked to church for other activities far from our home so we could enjoy the full blessings. In the midst of these challenges, other relatives brought their children to live with us so we could train them in the way of the Lord. We were not financially sound, but we took them in. We worshipped and struggled together with them. These challenges drew us closer to the Savior, and our salvation. He never left us alone or uncomforted.”
They had more children of their own and changed how they behaved as parents in raising their children. They “tried to follow the admonitions of the leaders. We stopped flogging them and rather used the word of God to teach and counsel even though at times we were pushed to the wall. This brought a bond of unity amongst them. They still seek each other’s welfare till now.”
Even with their steady obedience to the Lord, the Nelsons had difficult trials: “In 1996, we had an unforgettable experience. We had run out of food and were thinking of how to feed the children when they came back from school. I left for work that morning a bit worried. Emmanuel shared that when the children came back from school and my younger sister asked what could be prepared for supper. Knowing very well that there was no food, he asked her to go and make fire. Minutes later she came and told him that the fire was ready. Emmanuel asked her to go look for a medium-sized saucepan and fill it halfway with water and set it on the fire. She came later and reported that the water was boiling.”
Not knowing what more to do, Brother Nelson “then entered a room, shut the door and cried unto the Lord to rescue the family for the sake of the children. Just after he ended the prayer, he heard a knock on our main gate. As he came out, he saw someone with a headload and instructed the children to go see who was there. To his surprise, it was his mother-in-law who had travelled all the way from Ada to play a visit. The load was actually food stuff and she even had to leave some at the roadside of which the children later went for. We had enough to eat that day, and we have never run out of food since then.”
After 11 years of not having a steady job, Brother Nelson was offered a wonderful position and was able to provide for his family. Through consistently and constantly exercising faith in Christ unto repentance and consistent obedience to the commandments, the Nelsons became able to provide temporally for their family. More importantly, they provided spiritual strength and faith to their children. Their children observed these blessings and experiences and today are strong and stalwart in their faith, like their parents. The Nelsons have continued to exercise their faith in the Lord and today they lead the Nigeria Uyo Mission as mission president and companion, blessing their missionaries and all the people they teach.

Growing up, I was the third of seven very active children in my family. We lived next door to an elderly couple, Mr. and Mrs. Burrows. As a young boy, I always felt like they weren’t very happy with us. We were loud and rambunctious. Sometimes we would run across their lawn, throw balls over their fence, or make a lot of noise. This often upset them.
My mother went grocery shopping on Saturdays. She often took Mrs. Burrows with her because Mrs. Burrows couldn’t drive. Mom decided that I would go along every Saturday to help push Mrs. Burrows’s cart and lift the bags of groceries into our car.
When I look back, I’m grateful for that opportunity. Mr. and Mrs. Burrows were older and had no children to help them. My mom could have shopped any day of the week, but she chose to do it on Saturday so she could take Mrs. Burrows. I could have been playing with my friends on those Saturdays, but I’m so glad I saw my mom serving Mrs. Burrows and that I had the chance to serve Mrs. Burrows too.
My mother showed me that serving others is a part of who we are as Latter-day Saints. She taught me that we should strive to help others while we take care of ourselves.
Over time, I found that I didn’t hop over the fence as much or make as much noise. I came to love Mr. and Mrs. Burrows as I served them.

Grandma and grandpa really knew how to enjoy themselves. But wait! Who says it is only the gentle folks of the 1800s who could enjoy such great tastes and times? In the Ames Ward (Des Moines Iowa Stake) the young people still know how to put together ice and cream and old-fashioned fun.
The young men and young women insisted that everyone in the ward be invited personally to their ice-cream social, and so they began a phone-calling brigade. They then remodeled their cultural hall into an 1800s setting, including a sweet shoppe, general store, jail, claims office, some cactus, and hitching posts. The main attraction was the Oasis Ice Cream Shop where you could buy the “Great Divide” (a “splendiferous” banana split), a “Pie Alamo(de),” a “Golden Nugget,” a “Ghost Two Special,” and a “Flash Flood Float.”
While ward members ate, they were entertained with a talent show. Even the missionaries got in the act with a short skit called “A Typical Day in the Life of a Missionary.”
Two months of work went into the Oasis Ice Cream Shop—two months of work and gallons of ice cream, toppings, nuts, and bananas. The youth did it all themselves—with an adult leader here and there scooping ice cream, impersonating sheriffs, and complimenting the youth for one “very cool” job.

Elder Craig Proctor and his companion had to wait for every appointment with Julieta Villanueva Bulan Ledesma, a 5-foot nutrition graduate from Philippine Women’s University and mother of four (a girl and three boys), who had a fierce determination to resist the efforts of the two towering missionaries in converting her to the Church.
She found all the excuses to make them wait expecting that, by taxing them to the limit of their patience, they would be exasperated with her. One time, she started to wash a huge bundle of clothes when the two came for another appointment, hoping that they will get the message and leave her alone, not to return anymore. But, Elder Proctor and his companion were not to be discouraged and, at that time and other times, they held fast to their positions in the battle of the long wait. And, then, the moment long awaited by the diminutive Julieta came. The persistent Elder Proctor was transferred. At last, Julieta thought, the battle of nerves was won by her.
There was no apparent reason for Julieta to shy away from the missionaries. Her husband was then 1st Counselor in the Bishopric under Bishop Robert Evans of Makati I Ward. She was, in fact, already active in Church, serving an assignment as non-member Home Making Teacher under the guidance of Sis. Doris Scott, President of the Makati Ward Relief Society.
She was like any other member, attending Church functions and services, but the thought of baptism was still farthest from her mind. She was determined to remain in the faith she was born into. And, that was that, until …
During an unguarded moment, she saw her husband alone in her room, kneeling in fervent prayer, and a very strong feeling tugged at her heart, knowing that her husband was beseeching the Lord to show her the way and the light.
On July 20, 1974, two years, five months and one week after her husband was converted to the Church, Julieta was baptized at the Quezon City chapel. Elder Proctor was there, and great joy was in their hearts as her husband immersed her in the baptismal font.
Autumn of 1975, on October 1 to be exact, Bro. Craig Proctor stood impatiently at the doorway of his home at Oneida Street in Salt Lake City, waiting … This was the longest wait ever. He was expecting the arrival of two close friends from the Philippines, and the minutes ticked on like days.
And then, two familiar figures came into view. His heart leaped with joy as he ran towards them with tears in his eyes. His two friends from the Philippines also cried unashamedly as they embraced him on the street.
For Bro. Proctor, the missionary who waited and waited, another chapter in his book of life had been written.—P. Ocampo, Jr.
Editor’s Note: On October 6, 1975, Bro. Jacinto L. Ledesma and Sis. Julieta were sealed for eternity in the Salt Lake Temple.

The midnight sun ruled the June evening in Sweden, where its fiery red and yellow spears still pierced the solemn blue sky. Children played, tumbling and jumping as though they had not walked three miles to the Lutheran seminary that day and had not spent two hours that evening raking in the hayfields. Suddenly their laughter was interrupted by the shouting of an older boy running toward them down the soggy road.
The small blond ones stood alert, staring at the intruder, who shouted again, “The Mormons are coming!” Expressions on young faces hardened, and little mouths lost their smiles and became straight lines. Bright blue eyes clouded.
The children ran up the nearby hill, picking up stones and sticks along the way. At the top of the hill they gathered in a group and looked out over the rolling meadowland. No one was in sight except the boy who had sounded the warning. They waited for him on the hill.
When the older boy reached the other children, he shouted commands: “Girls, stop crying. Go to your homes and take the little ones with you. Ask your fathers to come help us. Ja (yes)! The Mormons are coming!”
The boys began stacking stones in the furrows near the road. Girls and younger children ran across the fields toward their small wooden houses.
Hulda and Anna, the twins, and their younger brother, Gustav, had the farthest to go. Their house and land, located at the far north corner of the farmland near Hogbrun, West Vinåker, were rented from a wealthy landowner. Gustav fell down, but the girls pulled him up, paying no attention to his ripped trousers. As they neared the house, they could see their mother, Ingrid, a younger sister, Carolina, and baby sister, Maria, picking bouquets of tiny white-belled lilies of the valley.
“Mor (Mother)! Mor! The Mormons are coming! Shall we go to Farfar (Grandfather) Lars’s? They’ll eat us up and burn our house!”
The young woman frowned at Gustav’s skinned knees and tried to comfort him. She looked at her five children, whose father had died a year before from pneumonia. “If your far (father) were here, he would not be afraid of the Mormons. I do not fear them either. Those Mormons may be from the devil, but if they come here, I’ll use this devil’s pitchfork on them! Go into the house and say your prayers and go to bed.”
The children crawled into their beds, but they could not sleep. Their mother stood outdoors in the changing light of the midnight sun, resting her body against the house. She sighed and closed her eyes and thought of the approaching Mormons.
Farfar Lars hated the Mormons. He had warned, “Don’t ever shake hands with Mormon missionaries or they’ll get you.” But Ingrid had to admit that those Mormon hymns Britta Larsson had sung, while they were spinning during her last visit, were comforting.
Ingrid’s thoughts were interrupted by the bellowing of the family bull. She looked up and saw him tossing his head and pawing the ground in the middle of the road. Picking up a rope from the front yard, Ingrid hurried toward the road. She voiced her irritation under her breath and snatched up a dead limb lying close by. Holding the limb in front of her and moving slowly, step by step, she approached the bull. The bull, with lowered head, took a step toward her. Ingrid trembled for a moment then retreated a step, caught her foot in a hole, and fell to the ground.
Suddenly the bull charged, and the young woman rolled into the ditch for what little protection it provided. Miraculously, the snorting bull missed her and charged down the road, tossing clods of mud with his horns as he went.
The shaking woman lifted her head and watched the bull grow smaller in the distance. Then she stood up and dropped a rock she noticed was still clenched in her fist.
The sound of shouting was heard from down the road. That bull has met someone else, Ingrid decided. The shouts increased, and the frightened woman picked up her twill skirts with trembling hands, swallowed hard, and forced her feet to run along the rutted road. Just over a rise she saw two men chasing the bull. The big animal stopped suddenly and again began pawing the dirt. The woman’s lips formed some word, but the cry caught and could not escape. Her eyes widened in fear, and again Ingrid swallowed. Her chest heaved rapidly, begging for more air before she started to run again.
One man threw his coat over the bull’s head and tried holding him by the horns while the other young man, who had found an old rope, secured it around the bull’s neck. Leading him toward the woman, the man asked, “Is this your bull?” His hair was dark, and he walked lightly and talked with a strange accent.
“Yes,” she answered in airy gasps. “He broke … out … of the field … and … and … nearly gored me when I fell.”
“Let us help you take him back and mend your fence,” offered the other young man.
The bull kicked and began pulling his captor down the road, and the young man shouted and made play by mocking the bull. Terror again crept into the woman’s eyes, but when the young men began to laugh, she laughed with them.
After the bull was penned and the fence mended, Ingrid said, “May I make something for you to eat?”
The men’s eyes lighted up, but then one of them answered, “We have an appointment in the village and we’re already late.”
“At least let me give you some knäckebröd (hardtack) and smör (butter),” insisted the woman.
“Thank you,” came the warm reply.
Ingrid went into the small frame house and reached up to the rafters, where several months’ supply of knäckebröd hung, dry and crisp. She slipped two of the large, thin disks of rye bread from the pole and carefully buttered each one. Adjusting the braids in her hair, she returned to the waiting men.
“Here,” she said, smiling shyly. “May this satisfy your hunger. And if you come this way again, please stop by to say hello.”
“Thank you, we hope to return soon.”
Ingrid watched the men leave. As soon as they were a few feet from the cottage, they broke off large chunks of knäckebröd and ate hungrily.
Just then the woman thought to warn them. “Watch out for the Mormons! They’re coming this way, you know.”
The men stopped their eating and walked back quietly, “We are the Mormons,” one of them said gently.
“And I hope you still mean your invitation to stop on our way back,” added the other.
Ingrid looked into their kind eyes for a moment. “Yes, I do,” she said. “I would like my children to meet you.”

When I was older, I was on my high school’s football team. Before we played, I didn’t always button the chin strap on my helmet, and sometimes my helmet didn’t stay on. One time when my helmet came off, I got hit so hard that I was knocked unconscious. I was terribly embarrassed when I came to and saw my teammates looking down at me. From that I learned that we always need to keep our physical and spiritual protectors in place. Our spiritual protectors include our obedience to the commandments of God and to the counsel and direction of our parents.

Coralie “Coco” Gamiette, 12, has a lot of favorite places to visit, and one of them is a waterfall. It’s called la Cascade aux Écrevisses. It’s the place where many of the early members of the Church on the West Indies island of Guadeloupe were baptized.
Coco says the waterfall reminds her of a place in the Book of Mormon, the Waters of Mormon, described as “a fountain of pure water” with “a thicket of small trees” nearby. That’s where 450 of those who believed Alma’s teachings were baptized. (See Mosiah 18:39.)
Of course, in Guadeloupe today, as in most places in the Church, baptisms are performed in a font at the chapel. But for Coco, la Cascade is still a pleasant place for picnicking, wading in the creek, and sitting in the cool shade to think about the heritage of the Church in her own family.
That heritage lies in a somewhat complex story that stretches back about 20 years, to the city of Angoulême, France. There, full-time missionaries were guided to a man named Michel Menardin, who had come from Guadeloupe, an overseas department of France, to perform his military service. Michel accepted the gospel and was baptized and confirmed.
That same year in the same town, missionaries left a pamphlet in a mailbox. It triggered interest from a single mother, Claudine, who was raising a 19-year-old daughter, Delphine. They both gained testimonies and were also baptized and confirmed.
Michel and Claudine met at church, decided they were meant for each other, and married. (They are Coco’s grandparents.) When Michel’s mother, Marthé, came for the wedding, she stayed in Angoulême, became acquainted with the Church, and joined.
Later, Delphine was called on a mission to Seattle, Washington. While she was serving, her parents and grandmother moved back to Guadeloupe. After her mission, Delphine came to visit them, and while in Guadeloupe she met Claude Gamiette, who had recently returned from the Florida Jacksonville Mission. He was serving as a counselor to Delphine’s stepfather in the branch presidency. The two returned missionaries dated and were married a short time later. Claude and Delphine are Coco’s parents. Now, 14 years and five children later, Claude, whose own family goes back years in the Church, is president of the Basse-Terre Guadeloupe District.
So with all of that, Coco is a fourth-generation Latter-day Saint. “I’ve grown up in the Church,” she says. “I’ve heard about it my whole life, gone to Primary and now to Young Women, and heard my parents and their parents and their parents bear their testimonies. I’ve always known the gospel is true. When I read in Mosiah about the promises the believers made when Alma baptized them, that’s what I’ve seen and felt my whole life.”
Coco remembers her great-grandmother saying that a family extends beyond a mother and father and their children. “She says family stretches across generations, from eternity to eternity,” Coco says. “That’s what I see in my family.”