Gospel Story Finder

The Hofmanns: Early First-Generation Members. In 1937 a German immigrant couple named Hofmann accepted the gospel and were baptized. Their son, Carlos Guillermo Hofmann, born a few months later, grew up as a Latter-day Saint. “We met in a small branch in those days,” he recalls. “I was raised with the beliefs of the Church. We always stayed on the pathway.”

Staying active in those days entailed meeting in homes and being the only Latter-day Saint in school, and then, as an adult, carrying heavy leadership responsibilities almost single-handedly.

After marrying, Carlos and his wife, Irma Scholz, made the needed sacrifices to raise their children in the Church. “I am grateful to my wife, who carried the responsibility while I was working and serving in Church callings,” Brother Hofmann says. “It seemed I was often away from the family, but the children never lacked. We were diligent in holding family home evening.” Today his children and grandchildren are strong and active in the Church.

I was living at home and commuting to Brigham Young University every day, but I still didn’t have as much time with my family as I thought I would have. Between school, work, and my Church calling, I rarely found time at home to help around the house, or be with my Mom and my three younger sisters. As a single parent, my mom was constantly finding new and ingenious jobs for us girls to help out around the house. It was her way of keeping on top of things and to get us to work together with “cheerful” attitudes.
One Friday afternoon, after I came home from school completely exhausted, my mother announced that we were all going to bottle at least five jars of tomatoes each before we could do anything else that night. I had already made plans for the evening. Although my mother noticed my annoyance, she quickly told me that all my sisters had plans too, and nobody was getting out of it. Upset glances from my sisters let me know that they were feeling the same way as I was right about then. Knowing that I wasn’t getting out of anything without an ugly scene, I accepted my fate and decided to get to work quickly.
“Hey Sally,” I shouted to my sister across the room, “put on some music, would you? We might as well have some tunes while we resign ourselves to our Friday night doom,” I muttered under my breath. With the music playing, I tied on an apron and seated myself at the kitchen counter. Anger continued to boil as I started peeling the tomatoes. What right did my mom have to tell me I couldn’t see my friends until I had bottled some dumb tomatoes anyway? I was the one who needed to relax after such a crazy school week! The negative thoughts continued coming as I sliced and peeled more tomatoes. The dirty work seemed endless.
Suddenly I heard my sister Katherine start to sing. Out of nowhere she began to belt along with the music and even added her own dance moves as she continued bottling tomatoes. Livvy, the youngest, began giggling and soon joined in. Sally, always one for lighthearted fun, quickly gave up her bad attitude and began to add dance moves of her own. I sat and watched as these girls, whom I loved so much, began laughing and singing together. They acted as if they were having the time of their lives. It occurred to me that I wasn’t spending the quality time with these girls as I should have been. Was I just the older sister with a bad attitude? I suddenly felt an incredible need to be with my sisters more, and to feel the amazing energy they had to offer to our family. It dawned on me that I wasn’t setting the example. I knew that in order for change to happen, I needed to change.
Without another thought, I joined in the chorus. With prune fingers, I began dancing alongside Sally, adding my own harmony to the music. I began laughing and felt the horrible evening of bottling tomatoes suddenly turn into a fun-filled tomato dance party!
Moments later I spotted my mother with a video camera. Even she felt that she needed to document this hilarious moment! I couldn’t believe my sudden change of attitude. I suddenly felt free from my burdens during the week. I was surprised that doing one of my most dreaded chores could be so much fun! It was then that I realized how important family time was and the incredible influence I had on my own family, as well as the influence they had on me. Although I still have my very busy schedule, I have now found that my first priority has become my family. Who knew that bottling tomatoes could teach me so much about life?

My father was the bishop of our ward at the time of its announcement to the Church in April general conference of 1936. The world was struggling in the Great Depression. So many of the fathers of our ward were unemployed. In those days a dime for admission to a school activity would prevent many of my friends from attending because their parents could not afford even that small amount for their children’s enjoyment.
Because of my father’s calling as a bishop, I was able to gain an appreciation of the welfare program from its very beginning as I watched him administer to the needs of the poor in his ward with great love and tenderness. How often I raced home from school anticipating a planned activity. As I would round the corner of our home, there I would see sacks of flour, sugar, and other commodities. My heart would fall, as I knew it would be another evening out with Father as he delivered these commodities to those in need. The planned activity would have to be cancelled for that evening.
When he arrived home, I was always enlisted to help him put the commodities in the car and travel with him to make the deliveries. Sometimes I would grumble under my breath for having been so put upon, but then I would have the remarkable experience of watching the light come back into the eyes of a depressed family as food was brought into their home. I always returned home from those experiences with an exhilarated feeling of watching the Church in action as it was caring for its poor and its needy through fast offerings and good, kind priesthood leaders.

Lorenzo Snow was still at work in his office in the Salt Lake Temple. It was dark outside, and the stars had come out. He was the fifth President of the Church, but he was also serving as the first president of the Salt Lake Temple at the time. He often stayed late into the evening to finish his work.
President Snow’s granddaughter Allie Young loved to visit him at his office. In those days, family members of the temple president were allowed to visit him there. They were not allowed to go through the entire temple, however, until they were old enough and had been found worthy and ready to make the sacred temple covenants.
This special evening Allie was with her grandfather in his office. The doorkeepers had gone home and the night watchmen had not yet come in, so they were alone. When Allie was ready to leave, President Snow went to a dresser and took a large bunch of keys from the drawer so that he could let her out the main entrance. Together they walked down a large corridor near the celestial room.
President Snow suddenly stopped and said, “Wait a moment, Allie. I want to tell you something.” Allie listened intently as her grandfather told her of an unforgettable experience he had once had at that place in the temple: “It was right here that the Lord Jesus Christ appeared to me at the time of the death of President Woodruff. He instructed me to go right ahead and reorganize the First Presidency of the Church at once and not wait as had been done after the death of the previous presidents, and that I was to succeed President Woodruff [as President of the Church].”
President Snow held out his left hand and said, “He stood right here, about three feet above the floor. It looked as though he stood on a plate of solid gold.”
Still speaking in hushed, reverent tones, President Snow told Allie that the Savior’s appearance was so glorious and bright that he could hardly look at Him.
President Snow put his right hand on Allie’s head and said, “Now granddaughter, I want you to remember that this is the testimony of your grandfather, that he told you with his own lips that he actually saw the Savior, here in the temple, and talked with him face to face.”
Allie listened to every word of this sacred experience and never forgot that precious moment but shared it many times later in her life with her family and friends.

No one else should have noticed it. That I was aware of it was odd. In the midst of a crowded church foyer filled with lively Japanese members hurrying to Sunday School, the tiny spider was truly insignificant. Having arrived at the church a few minutes early with my missionary companion, I was sitting on a flight of stairs observing the members as they arrived. The spider had first appeared from under a wall heater, a tiny brown speck slowly progressing toward the middle of the hall. By the time its painstaking progress had lengthened to three feet, most of the members had arrived and were socializing in the hall before meetings.
My first impulse had been to brush it back under the heater. This idea was followed by the more childish notion of stepping on it. Fortunately for the spider, cruelty was quickly substituted by curiosity. The spider’s remaining lifetime appeared to be limited, increasingly so as it continued in a determined course toward the center of the crowded foyer. I was fascinated into inaction, watching and wondering how it would end—that inevitable, accidental footfall.
I will never understand how Brother Tashiro, the district president, saw it. He was obviously late as he hurried through the outside door to yet another meeting, briefcase in one hand, cassette recorder and slide projector precariously positioned under the opposite arm. His mind was surely filled with the endless responsibilities of running a mission district; yet he, too, somehow saw the tiny spider among the crowd. Immediately stopping, he set aside his load and, excusing himself, parted the crowd, stooped down and gently scooped the spider into his palm, then released it outside to a more hospitable environment. As though hardly aware of the interruption, he hurried to the waiting meeting.
It was so simple, such a natural act for that humble servant of the Lord. Then a wonderful analogy unfolded before me. I saw in my mind’s eye the Savior, stooping down from the complex business of creating worlds without number, to personally teach, exhort, and sacrifice for the sake of an uncomprehending human race, a seemingly insignificant speck in the endless corridors of eternity. With Godly devotion, he lifted man from certain doom, transporting him to an environment of freedom and opportunity wherein he could live and grow.
I thought of all the thousands of Japanese people yet unaware of the Savior’s great love, people I had been sent to teach. A new resolve filled my breast as I hurried into Sunday School class. Next time, I resolved, I would save the spider.

Ninety-year-old Samoan woman, Valaei Faloa’i Pritchard Taleni, is a loving matriarch in her family, and a friend to all who know her in her home village and abroad.
Her son, Leali’ie’e Tufulasi Taleni, is a senior lecturer at the University of Canterbury, and a bishop in the Mona Vale Ward in Christchurch.
He says that his mother “is a true pioneer of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Samoa. Her great legacy comes from the demonstration of the Samoan values of tautua (service), fa’aaloalo (respect), osiosiga (reciprocity), loto alofa (generosity), fa’asinomaga (belonging), ola fa’a’eagaga (spirituality), ola magafagafa (tolerance) and aofia faatasi (inclusivity) enveloped in the value of alofa (love).”
This year, Valaei celebrated her 90th birthday with family and friends. The milestone gave her and those who love her the chance to look back on decades of service to her family, her Church, and her community.
Born and raised in the village of Tafua on the island of Savai’i, Valaei married Leali’ie’e Ova Taleni from the village of Vaiafai, Iva on Savai’i.
Valaei began her life in the Congregational Christian Church of Samoa, also known as the EFKS church. Her husband introduced her to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and she was baptised in the McKay Branch (now a ward) on Savai’i.
Leali’ie’e and Valaei served in many Church callings over the years, including Leali’ie’e as branch president and bishop; and Valaei as Relief Society president, Primary president and Sunday School teacher.
In 1976, the couple attended the Church’s general conference in Salt Lake City, Utah, in the United States—leading to an article about their visit in the Ensign (now known as The Liahona).
The couple raised 15 children including some who were adopted.
Her son, Leali’ie’e Tufulasi Taleni, says their mother was a “key support for Dad throughout his service in the Church, and in his role in the village as matai (chief).”
She also served her family, her extended family, and her entire village throughout her life.
Bishop Taleni is grateful for his mother’s “passion for supporting us all in our education—this goes beyond her own children.” He says that she supported children from their extended family and village, “making sure they went to school.”
He recalls that “Mum used to run a shop in the village. That shop was very much operated not only to support our family but also to help villagers with their basic needs.” In later years, the shop was a hub for helping people with welfare needs.
“Mum is known for her generosity, hard work, and love for people. She was very organised and always conscious about making sure the family was well fed and looked after, with a clean house.” He said that the health and wellbeing of the family was always important to her.
Underpinning her life is her faith in God. “All her life she has studied the scriptures regularly and prayed and fasted faithfully. These are all part of her spiritual nourishment,” her son says. “She totally believes in tithing and contributing to fast offerings.”
Valaei continues to be a supporter of missionary service. Bishop Taleni remembers that their “home was the home of missionaries in the village for many years. She called these missionaries her own children and took care of them in many ways.”
Seven of her own children and ten of her grandchildren have served missions for the Church. Many of her children and grandchildren continue to serve in the Church.
The Church has grown over the years on the island of Savai’i. “When Mum joined the Church, during that time there was only one stake or district in the whole island, now there are six stakes,” Bishop Taleni says.
“Mum has seen many changes, many developments, Church events, programs, activities and services over the years. These have contributed to the growth of the Church. The missionary work and ministering have been huge on the island. Many miracles have happened. Mum and Dad’s own missionary service as Church leaders over the years have led to remarkable experiences. They left our own home village and moved to where the Lord called them to serve.”
“This really wraps up Mum’s whole story of service,” Bishop Taleni says. “She’s now at this age of her life, she may not be able to do much physically, but her legacy speaks volumes and will be forever in the hearts of her family, her children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, great-great-grandchildren, her village and community, and in the Church to which she belongs.”

While reading through the May 2007 issue of the Liahona, I was deeply moved by Elder Jay E. Jensen’s talk, “The Nourishing Power of Hymns.” I too have a strong testimony of the power of hymns. In February 2000, while listening to a local radio show, I heard a song I had never heard before. I not only enjoyed the flow of the music, but I also enjoyed the manner in which the group sang and the message the song carried. I later learned that this song was by a group called Latter-day Saints. I wanted to get the full text of this song. I decided I must visit this church. The first Sunday I attended, my first task was to get a hymnbook. There it was—hymn number 30, “Come, Come, Ye Saints.” I was baptized a few months later.
Richard S. Scotland, Liberia

I will never forget my first viewing of The Man of La Mancha, a play about growth and redemption. Don Quixote will not permit Aldonza, a woman sadly abused by men, to be what she thinks she is. He calls her his lady, his beautiful, pure, fair, lady. He gives her a new name, “Dulcinea,” which infuriates her. But over the course of the play his view of her takes hold, and at his deathbed someone speaks to her, calling her Aldonza. “My name,” she replies with great feeling, “is Dulcinea.” The audience breathed as one. We were all caught up in the marvelous spiritual triumph that had taken place before our eyes. And as we left the theater there was an almost tangible bond that united us.

Heber C. Kimball was ordained an Apostle in 1835 by the Prophet Joseph Smith, who considered him a man of great integrity. Two years later, while sitting in the Kirtland Temple, the Prophet Joseph whispered to Elder Kimball that the Lord wanted him to go on a mission to England. He would be the first Church missionary sent to a foreign country, a thought that was overwhelming to Elder Kimball.

“The idea of such a mission was almost more than I could bear. … I was almost ready to sink under the burden which was placed upon me,” he said. But despite the inadequacy he felt, Elder Kimball accepted the call and went to England. “The moment I understood the will of my Heavenly Father, I felt a determination to go at all hazards, believing that He would support me by His almighty power, and endow me with every qualification that I needed.” (See History of the Church, 2:489, footnote.)
Elder Kimball had the faith of Nephi. He knew 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” (1 Ne. 3:7).

I serve as a Church-service missionary with the PathwayConnect program in the Kyiv Ukraine Stake. The leaders of the program decided to train all of us who lead in-person gatherings so that we could conduct them virtually. The very next day, the government announced quarantine measures in Kyiv.
I love the opportunity to gather together for PathwayConnect. And I love the opportunity to gather together to worship and sing together at home on Sundays. I am grateful for the assurance that where two or three gather in His name, He is there. No one knows how long we will be in quarantine in Kyiv, but we know that the Savior will hear our singing.
Kateryna Serdyuk, Kyiv, Ukraine

Julie bit her lip as she walked home with her new friends. She didn’t know what to tell them about the Church.
“My dad says you Mormons are different from the rest of us and that you aren’t Christians,” Tiffany told her. “He said that you believe in Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon but not the Bible.”
“That’s what I’ve heard, too,” Meghan added. She pointed to the blue book Julie had tucked under her arm. “I don’t see you carrying the Bible to school, just your Book of Mormon.”
Julie wanted to avoid an argument, but she had to stand up for what she knew was right. “Members of the Church are Christians. And I brought my Book of Mormon to school to show Miss Hall. She asked to see it after I did my history report on Joseph Smith last week.”
“See?” Tiffany smirked. “You do believe in Joseph Smith.”
“That’s right. I believe that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. I also believe in Jesus Christ as the Savior.”
“Then why aren’t you called Christians like other people?” Meghan asked. “Why do people call you Mormons?”
Julie choked back the angry words that hovered on her tongue. “I have to get home. I promised Mom I’d watch Benny while she goes to the store.”
As Julie hurried ahead, she heard whispers floating behind her. She swiped at the tears that trailed down her cheeks and wished for the hundredth time that her family hadn’t had to move here for her father’s job. It had been hard to leave her friends in California. Tiffany and Meghan were the first friends she’d made here, and now it looked as if she might lose them.
Julie wiped away the tears as she opened the kitchen door, hoping her mother wouldn’t notice she’d been crying. But her mother took one look at her and sat down at the kitchen table, gesturing for Julie to join her. Soon the whole story was spilling out.
“Maybe Tiffany and Meghan simply don’t understand,” her mother suggested.
“But why did they say that we aren’t Christians?”
“A lot of people think that. They don’t understand that just because we believe in the Book of Mormon, it isn’t Mormon’s Church. It’s Jesus Christ’s Church.”
Julie thought about it that afternoon as she did her homework. She tried to concentrate on it, but she couldn’t forget the things her friends had said. If only she could help them understand!
“Julie, what’s this?” Benny asked.
She looked up and saw the small card he held up to her. “It’s an Articles of Faith card.”
“What are Art-Arti-Articles of Faith?”
“They explain what Church members believe in.” She jumped up, crossed the room, and kissed her little brother. “Thanks, Benny—you’ve just given me the answer to my problem!”
The following day, she passed Tiffany and Meghan on the way to art class. She smiled at both of them. “See you after class,” she said.
When the bell rang, Julie found Tiffany and Meghan waiting for her in the hallway.
“Let’s walk home together,” Julie suggested.
Tiffany and Meghan exchanged looks. “OK.”
Julie waited until they were outside before beginning. “Yesterday you said Mormons are different. You were right. We are different.” She took a deep breath and began reciting the first article of faith: “‘We believe in God, the Eternal Father, and in His Son, Jesus Christ, and in the Holy Ghost.’”
“You believe they are three different persons?” Meghan asked.
“That’s right.”
Tiffany frowned. “But aren’t they all the same?”
Julie paused, praying that she could find the right words. “They are one in purpose, and They work together, but They’re three distinct persons.”
“What about Mormon?” Tiffany asked. “The man your church is named after. Who’s he?”
“The real name of the Church is The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but sometimes we’re called Mormons because we believe that the Book of Mormon is scripture, just like the Bible. In fact, we say that it is ‘Another Testament of Jesus Christ.’ You see, Mormon lived a long time ago on the American continent, and he kept a record of his people and how they lived the gospel of Jesus Christ. His son, Moroni, appeared as an angel—”
“An angel?” Meghan interrupted. “Like a Christmas angel? In a long white robe and halo?”
Julie smiled and shook her head. “Moroni appeared to Joseph Smith and told him where the golden plates that Mormon’s history was written on were buried. Eventually Joseph Smith translated the golden plates and called it the Book of Mormon.”
“Hey, this is exciting,” Meghan said.
“Do you have any more of those things that you believe in?” Tiffany asked.
“They’re called the Articles of Faith. There are thirteen in all.” Julie reached inside her pocket, pulled out two small cards, and gave them to her friends. “Here.” She watched as Tiffany and Meghan looked over the cards.
“Do you know all these by heart?” Tiffany asked.
“Uh-huh. I memorized them in Primary.”
“What’s Primary?”
“It’s a little like your Sunday School. We have class on Sundays and sometimes an activity during the week.”
“Maybe I can come with you sometime,” Tiffany said.
“Me, too,” Meghan chimed in.
Julie smiled at them. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

I recall when my wife and I invited our teenage sons and daughters to take a challenge, one which they accepted. They were to pray earnestly that the Lord would help them identify a person they were to help come into the Church. There would be no time limit. They were to pray and search and wait until the Spirit spoke to them, until they found that special person who would accept the invitation to either participate with them in a Church activity or to listen to the message of our missionaries.
We promised them that they would know for sure because it would be just as though the Lord were pointing his finger at that person. They were also to pray that they would know what to say to that person at the time.
One son returned in about two weeks with the story that he definitely had been impressed to approach a young man who sat by him at the university. He approached him about the Church and was rejected. Naturally he felt discouraged and questioned the validity of our project.
“Did you truly love him?” I asked. “Or were you just trying to compile a statistic? Did you have love in your heart and in your eyes when you approached him? Were you listening to the Spirit to help you as you approached him?”
“Let me try again,” our son asked. “Let me fast and pray about it. Then I`ll try again.”
After fasting and praying about it, he still felt impressed that this was the young man he should introduce to the Church. He approached him once more, this time with great love in his heart, in his eyes, and in his soul. The young man agreed to meet with our son and the missionaries to learn about the Church.
Not only was the young man baptized but his inactive wife was reactivated and their three children will now have the blessings of being reared in an LDS home.

I was the fifth child in a family of six children. In our home, our parents gave us chores to do. One chore each of us had was to wash dishes after dinner one night each week. Our family rule was you couldn’t go to bed until you had washed the dishes.
I never went to bed without doing the dishes, but it wasn’t because I was super obedient. It was because my mother wouldn’t let me! There was no escape! I would whine, complain, and pester my poor mother because I wanted to watch TV or play with my friends. But eventually, I would do the dishes. Although I was technically obedient and did what my mother asked, I am sure my attitude didn’t please her.
My oldest sister, on the other hand, discovered she could jump up from dinner; put away the food; wash, dry, and put away the dishes; clean off the countertop; clean the kitchen floor; and still have time to play. She was more than just obedient; she was doing what pleased her mother.
The way my sister served my mother reminds me of the way the Savior serves His Father. The Savior said, “I do nothing of myself; but as my Father hath taught me” (John 8:28). Which is to say, He was always obedient.
He further explained, “And he that sent me is with me: the Father hath not left me alone; for I do always those things that please him” (John 8:29).
May I suggest two words to give you direction, comfort, and hope? They are Please God. If those two words become an inner compass for you, they will answer a lot of questions and prevent much heartache!
For example, how should you dress for a high school dance? Modestly, of course! But how do you judge what’s modest? You can review the standards of the Church in For the Strength of Youth. You could also ask yourself, “Is the way I’m dressed pleasing to my Heavenly Father?” Then you can ask Him in prayer, and He will tell you!
It shouldn’t be a mystery to know what pleases Heavenly Father. As you strive to please God, the Spirit will move your heart to feel what does or does not meet with His approval. And “then shall thy confidence wax strong in the presence of God” (D&C 121:45). There are many ways we can please God. Here are three ways I have found to be powerful.
At about age 14, while praying, I had a surprising thought: “I wonder what Heavenly Father thought about what I just said in my prayer?” This had a profound impact on me. It changed the way I pray.
Suppose I had an algebra test coming up that I was worried about. While praying for help, if I would ask, “I wonder what Heavenly Father thought about what I just said in my prayer?” I would be more aware of what I was asking, which would lead me to think that He would want me to finish my algebra homework and spend more time studying before the test. If I did so, He would be much more pleased with my prayer.
Seeking His will for us will help us recognize His answers to our prayers. It pleases God when we communicate with Him. He is also pleased when we learn how He speaks to us through the Holy Ghost.
Learning to recognize when God is speaking is more like learning to play the piano or learning a new language than it is like just turning on a light. It takes practice, but you can learn how revelation comes to you, and you can recognize it each time it comes. Revelation is like a light inside us. It’s real, it’s identifiable, and it’s memorable, however it comes. The Lord taught, “He that receiveth light, and continueth in God, receiveth more light; and that light groweth brighter and brighter until the perfect day” (D&C 50:24).
We please Heavenly Father when we look for ways to serve others. When I was Young Men president in a ward in San Antonio, Texas, the bishop suggested that the priests quorum help a woman whose husband was on military deployment. She lived in a trailer home with her small children. The steps to her trailer were rotted and damaged. She needed help replacing them.
We met at her home and got to work. Shortly after we started, it began to rain. The priests decided to work through the rain. Soon new steps were in place. They were high quality when we were done! Some years later I had an occasion to talk to one of those priests. I asked him what he remembered from our time in the priests quorum. He remembered that service project. He said he was sure that what the service did for him was much more important than what it did for this dear sister and her family.
Christ’s teaching is infinitely wise: “For whosoever will save his life shall lose it: and whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall find it” (Matthew 16:25). Two wonderful things happen when you serve others: first, those you serve are happier and better, and second, you are happier and better. This works anytime and anyplace.
Think about what you want to be years from now. What can you contribute to the world and to your family? What can you do to bring happiness to others? It pleases God when we go for what I call the long win. This means we don’t take the easy way out, we focus on things that have lasting importance and impact, and we do the right thing for the right reasons.
You can gain so much confidence by saying, “I’m going to do what I know is right.” Instead of being shortsighted, think about how you want things to turn out further down the road. You may not know how a situation will end, but if you can have the courage to say, “I know what’s right, and I’m going to do it no matter what,” you will win in the long run. Always.
Going for the long win will also help you stay away from sin. People often fall into sin because it seems enjoyable in the moment. The problem with the moment is that it only lasts a moment. In the end, sin always causes harm and pain. Going for the long win will lead you to make wiser decisions in the short term and be much happier in the long term.
Here is one more thought. You may feel discouraged as you try to please God and do what’s right. Doing right can sometimes be hard. Everyone experiences discouragement from time to time. Sometimes we’re discouraged because we’ve made a mistake or committed a sin. But feeling discouraged shouldn’t lead to lingering hopelessness. If we take advantage of the tremendous blessing of repentance, Heavenly Father will give us power to rise to our true potential. Repentance is there to redirect and correct our course minute by minute, day by day. We can repent and try again! As you strive to please God, you will be on the path to becoming the best and the happiest you can be.

When I was young, my parents did volunteer work in different countries. I wanted to help people around the world too. So when I grew up, I became a doctor. I have now worked in many different countries helping people. My family and I have enjoyed being with the Latter-days Saints in these areas. They are so happy and hopeful. And they love Jesus Christ and His gospel.
My children often went to Primary with other children that didn’t look like them or speak the same language. But they were all Heavenly Father’s children. He knows and loves each one of us. We are each part of His family.

Jan slammed the hot iron down on the pillowcase and grudgingly slid it back and forth until the fabric was smooth. I’m sick of ironing pillowcases! I’m sick of ironing everything! she thought as she glanced at the pile of clean but wrinkled clothes. There’s too much to do!
The relentless howling of the fierce wind outside was punctuated only by the rhythmic sound of Jan’s iron thumping the ironing board. She glanced out the window at the raging blizzard and shivered. I wish I weren’t the oldest. Then I wouldn’t have to do all the work while Mom’s sick.
Just an hour ago her mother had said, “When you’re finished with the ironing, honey, come to my room and we’ll decide what to fix for dinner.”
Jan groaned just thinking about dinner and dishes. Why does it have to be me? It isn’t fair! Tears filled her eyes, and her long brown hair brushed her pale cheeks as she smoothed the pillowcase with her hand, folded it neatly, and added it to the growing pile of finished ironing. She thought of her mother resting in bed and the other four children playing quietly elsewhere in the house. The storm seemed to put a hush over everyone, as if they were just silently passing time until it was over.
Later, with a sigh of relief, Jan picked up the last item to iron—one of Dad’s handkerchiefs. I know Mom can’t help having to stay in bed so she won’t lose the baby, she reasoned as she ironed. I can tell she’s trying to act cheerful, but I know she’s pretty worried. And when Dad looks at her, he seems worried too.
Glancing outside, Jan could see that the storm was getting worse. The wind shrieked louder and tore at the house, adding more gloom to her mood. Suddenly the laundry room light flickered and went out. It was still early enough so that, despite the storm, the snow reflected plenty of light through the window.
Jan became aware of a faint, musical sound. Where’s that coming from? she wondered. It can’t be the radio, because the power’s off. She moved to the doorway and listened.
“It’s really beautiful!” she whispered, still listening. She began to walk from room to room, following the flutelike sound and trying to discover where it was coming from. She wondered who could be playing it. No one in the family played the flute. The haunting sound was peaceful, smooth. It stopped, then started again, faded, then rose again.
Still following the sound, Jan came to the door of her own room! What’s going on? she wondered. The door was ajar. Her ear tuned to the clear, gentle sound, she quietly entered. The reflection of the white snow swirling and drifting outside her window brightened the pinks and whites of her room. She followed the sound—louder now—to the window. Afraid of disturbing whatever was making the unusual music, she very cautiously reached up and moved the white, frothy curtain aside.
“Well, what do you know!” Jan exclaimed. The music she heard was being made naturally, and simply, by the raging wind! The wind was blowing so hard against her window that the air being forced through the cracks was making a delightful tune.
Jan stood there in awe, gazing at the window and the bright, drifting snow. Then, interrupting her reverie, she turned and ran to her mother’s room. Delighted to find her awake, Jan’s discovery tumbled out excitedly.
Mother’s dark eyes sparkled, and her tired mouth widened into a smile. She lifted her hand for Jan to take. “Show me!” she said with excitement.
Jan supported her mother as they went to Jan’s room and quietly lay side by side on her bed. The only sound was the music of the wind.
“It’s lovely!” her mother whispered.
After listening in silence for a few more minutes, Jan said, “I’d really be scared to be out there in that blizzard all alone!”
“Yes, so would I,” agreed her mother. “But isn’t it wonderful how that wild storm can whistle through a tiny crack and provide us with such an unusual musical treat?”
“Uh-huh.” Forgetting her fear, Jan snuggled closer and rested her head on her mother’s shoulder. Her thoughts drifted back to earlier in the afternoon. It had seemed like the end of the world then. But maybe things weren’t so bad after all. A feeling of peace and well-being swelled within her.
“Honey?” Her mother’s voice broke the silence. “With the power off, what shall we do for dinner?”
Jan giggled. “Well, we could have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches! Seriously, though, I think we have enough stew left over from last night. I’ll put it in the dutch oven and warm it up in the fireplace. Then we can sit around the fire and eat like the pioneers did!”
“Like the pioneers!” her mother echoed.
Jan remembered the peace and contentment she’d felt when she’d heard the music in the wind. She knew her life was a lot easier than that of the pioneers. She smiled and went to get the stew ready.

When was the last time an adult looked at you, smiled, and wistfully said something like, “Oh, I’d love to be young again, like you. Your life is so carefree.”
How long did it take for you to stop laughing?
Most youth in the Church are busy with seminary, school, Church callings, family activities, homework, recreation, employment, and volunteer work. With all the running around you do, wouldn’t it be nice to get away from it all? Picture a tropical island with warm white sand, gentle surf, and palm trees swaying gently in the background. Can’t you almost feel the sunshine on your face? As you drift off to sleep under the tropical sun, you might think something like, I could live in a place like this.
Well, some people do. Nassau, Bahamas, is a paradise that some people call home. It never gets cold there. Seafood is fresh and abundant. Dolphins frolic in crystal blue water. Plants that would wither and die most places burst into huge blooms in hues of pink, purple, and orange, gently perfuming the air with their scent. Music can almost always be heard playing somewhere in the distance.
The youth in the Bahamas do enjoy their beautiful climate and surroundings, but they’re not immune to the pressures of everyday life. They know that true peace doesn’t come from music or food or even sunshine. It comes from living a good life by being true to the gospel. Because the gospel has only been on their island for about 20 years, they are true pioneers. Many are the first and only members in their families. They not only love the gospel but are eager to share it too.
Angela Vildor, a Laurel, moved to the Bahamas from Haiti a few years ago with her family. With the move came many changes, including learning English—a real challenge since she had spent her entire life speaking Haitian Creole. One afternoon a friend of hers invited her to a free English class sponsored by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Angela readily accepted the invitation.
“I met the missionaries in English class,” she says. “They gave me a Book of Mormon and later they talked to me about it. I told them that when I read the Book of Mormon, I felt very strong; it was a very different feeling. They explained that what I was feeling was the Spirit.”
Soon after Angela told the missionaries about her feelings, she was taught the missionary discussions and was baptized. A few weeks later, Angela’s younger sister, Annette, was also baptized. Together, the two of them help each other learn more about the gospel and share it with the rest of their family and their friends.
“Some of my friends are confused,” says Annette. “When they look at the Book of Mormon and see First Nephi, they say, ‘Oh, so this is Genesis for you?’ And I explain that Genesis is Genesis and Nephi is Nephi, and that I believe in both.”
Misunderstandings about the Book of Mormon aren’t the only challenges that Angela and Annette face. Unfortunately, since the Church is still so small in the Bahamas, there are many unfounded rumors about the Church’s beliefs and religious practices. In fact, Annette wasn’t so sure that it was a good idea for her sister to join the Church, but then Angela persuaded her to read the Book of Mormon and find out for herself.
“In the book of Mosiah, it talks about being a witness of God in all times and in all places. I like that,” says Annette. “Then it goes on to talk about desire, and I knew deep down inside that joining the Church was the desire of my heart. It was then that I knew I had to join the Church.”
Much like Angela and Annette, Marco Dauphin is eager to spread the gospel by sharing it with anyone who will listen. Marco is pretty much like any young man his age, with a passion for basketball and a quick, easy smile. But there is something a little different about him, too. He is a leader, introducing his friends and family to things he thinks are good and uplifting. He knows how to include everyone and make them feel at home. When he first met the missionaries a few years ago, he immediately knew they had something special—something he wanted to have, too.
“I remember learning from the missionaries about the Second Coming,” he says. “I loved it.”
Soon he was ready for baptism, and so was his younger brother, Derek. Younger sister Sandra soon followed, and baby sister, Tina, was still too young (she has since been baptized). But Marco’s older sister, Rosenelle, wasn’t so sure that joining the Church was a good idea.
“I was strong in my belief that the Church was not true,” says Rosenelle.
But at Marco’s urging, Rosenelle continued to meet with the missionaries, never committing to baptism, but never completely rejecting the idea either.
“I never gave up,” says Marco. “I knew it would happen.”
And it did. While reading the Book of Mormon one afternoon, Rosenelle read about Alma the Younger. Soon she was thinking about her own life and the direction it was taking. She prayed for a long time that day and started to have some feelings that she couldn’t quite describe.
“Marco told me it was the Spirit,” says Rosenelle. “I knew he was right. I became converted and was baptized. I haven’t ever regretted it.”
The Dauphins’ mother, who is single, isn’t a member of the Church, and she often has to be at work on Monday evenings. So Marco and Rosenelle hold family night, complete with a game, songs, prayers, and a lesson. Sometimes the full-time missionaries are invited. It’s a challenge to coordinate their efforts, but all the Dauphins say it’s worth it.
“Joining the Church was a real relief for us,” says Marco. “When we have the Spirit in our home, we feel closer together. We just feel better.”
When the Rabasto family joined the Church a little over three years ago, they jumped into the gospel with both feet. After moving to the Bahamas from the Philippines, their dad, Adolfo, was called to the branch presidency. They hold regular family home evening. Archie and Roselle, the two high schoolers in the family, both attend seminary every day. They read the scriptures daily as a family. Rinna, the oldest sister in the family, is a student at BYU.
But what the family loves about the gospel most is the Christmas present they received last year. During the holiday break, the family took a trip to the temple in Orlando, Florida, to be sealed.
“I felt really excited to be in the temple,” says Archie. “I remember my sisters crying, and I felt happy, and peaceful.”
From Orlando, the family said good-bye to Rinna, since she was leaving for college. They miss her terribly, of course, but they say they feel calm about her being so far away in Utah, since they feel a lasting peace from knowing they’ll always be sealed as a family, no matter where they go.
“Everyone in the temple kept telling us how great we looked with our white clothes and jet-black hair,” says Roselle. “We felt great too. You could feel the air-conditioning in the temple, but I felt a warmth from inside. The feelings that I had there were indescribable.”
The youth in the Bahamas are few in numbers, but great in strength and dedication. They all have stories to tell about how the gospel has changed their lives. There’s Nancy Bowe, a soft-spoken Mia Maid who serves as the seminary president. There’s Kelford Gean, who helps his mom remember to study scriptures with him every night. There’s D. D. Wilson, who took her scriptures and her journal on a school trip to Florida because she didn’t want to miss a day of either habit.
Living the gospel in the Bahamas can be difficult, since members are so few and far between, but the youth seem to rise to the occasion with the help of their leaders and their friends. Someday they hope that instead of a small branch or two, the island will be filled with large and active wards. Very likely, when a history of the Church in the Bahamas is written, all of their names will be mentioned as pioneers who laid the foundation for others to build on. But for now, they are happy where they are, with a great love for each other and for the gospel.
And while they love their beautiful country, they know that it’s not where you live, but how you live, that brings peace and happiness. They know that with the gospel in their lives anywhere can be a paradise.

A long time ago in a distant land lived a family of three sisters.
The first sister was sad. Everything from her nose to her chin and from her skin to her toes seemed not quite good enough to her. When she spoke, her words sometimes came out awkwardly, and people laughed. When someone criticized her or “forgot” to invite her to something, she would blush, walk away, and find a secret spot where she would let out a sad sigh and wonder why life had turned out to be so bleak and cheerless.
The second sister was mad. She thought of herself as very smart, but there was always someone else who scored higher on tests at school. She considered herself funny, fair, fashionable, and fascinating. But always, there seemed to be someone who was funnier, fairer, more fashionable, or more fascinating.
She was never first at anything, and this she could not endure. Life was not supposed to be this way!
Sometimes she lashed out at others, and it seemed that she was always one breath away from being outraged by one thing or another.
Of course, this did not make her any more likable or popular. Sometimes she clenched her teeth, tightened her fists, and thought, “Life is so unfair!”
Then there was the third sister. Unlike her sad and mad sisters, she was—well, glad. And it wasn’t because she was smarter or more beautiful or more capable than her sisters. No, people sometimes avoided or ignored her too. They sometimes made fun of what she was wearing or the things she was saying. They sometimes said mean things about her. But she did not allow any of that to bother her too much.
This sister loved to sing. She didn’t have great pitch, and people laughed about it, but that didn’t stop her. She would say, “I am not going to let other people and their opinions stop me from singing!”
The very fact that she kept singing made her first sister sad and her second sister mad.
Many years passed, and eventually each sister reached the end of her time on earth.
The first sister, who discovered again and again that there was no shortage of disappointments in life, eventually died sad.
The second, who every day found something new to dislike, died mad.
And the third sister, who spent her life singing her song with all her might and a confident smile on her face, died glad.

As a deacon I learned my responsibilities thanks to the support of my parents and leaders and working with the goals in the Duty to God booklet. As a teacher I learned more by going to do visits as a home teacher, participating in the open houses on the missionary days, sharing banana bread, attending Mutual, and participating in ward and stake activities.
Now as a priest I get to focus more on missionary work. Working with the Young Men president and as an assistant to the bishop, I have learned much more about my responsibilities as a priesthood holder.
Our leaders constantly invite us to come with them and the full-time missionaries so that we can become familiar with missionary work. They also exhort us to read the scriptures, especially the Book of Mormon. All of these experiences motivate and prepare me to receive the higher priesthood and to serve a full-time mission.
Isaac G., 17

For instance, President Thomas S. Monson remembered the promised words of the Savior as he blessed me six months ago to stand fearlessly in my calling when it seemed hard. These words of the Savior, which He gave to His tiny band of priesthood holders in this dispensation, came to the prophet’s mind as he laid his hands on my head: “And whoso receiveth you, there I will be also, for I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up.”
The promise which President Monson remembered and quoted was fulfilled for me. Confidence replaced doubt, the Spirit came, medical helpers were inspired, my life was preserved, and I was borne up. Because of that blessing by President Monson, it will always be easy for me to remember the Savior and trust His promise that He goes before and beside us in His service.

Just after their conversion, I underwent surgery for cancer in my upper jaw. On the day of my surgery, the president of the temple, where I served as an organist and an ordinance worker, fasted and prayed for me. After my surgery, I found it difficult to speak, eat, sing, and do other normal things.

“If you can’t speak,” the temple president told me, “you can still be an organist!”

That encouraged me to resume my service after I had healed. As I played the organ in the temple chapel, I was filled with the Spirit of the Lord and felt strengthened spiritually and physically. I often gave thanks and prayed silently over the words of the hymns.