Gospel Story Finder

Alex Haley, author of Roots, tells the story about a man named John Newton, born in London, England, July 24, 1725, to an authoritarian father and a loving, pious, shy mother -- to John's relief, his father was a sailor who was home only a few weeks between long voyages.

When John was seven years old, his mother died. This was a devastating loss to him, and he became rebellious, stubborn, and disrespectful. At age 11, he became an apprentice sailor on his father's ship. While there, he strayed even further from his mother's teachings.

Looking back on these days, John said of himself, "I believe for some years I never was an hour in any company without attempting to corrupt them." His wayward and sinful life continued as he became a slave trader, indulging his sexual appetite at will with the slaves.

In 1748, after years as a "militant atheist" Newton was on a ship named the Greyhound, and seeking something to do, he came across a book named The Imitation of Christ which, among other things, warned of God's judgment of sinners. After reading it, he flung the book aside. But early the next morning a terrible storm nearly capsized his ship. After pumping water for hours and beginning to lose hope, Newton surprised himself by crying out, "If this will not do, the Lord have mercy upon us."

After this experience, Newton began a turn to God and goodness. He became a powerful preacher in Liverpool, England; his growing flock captivated by stories of his life, the sea, and the goodness of God in forgiving sinners who repented and turned to Him.

When Newton was over 80-years of age, he joined with William Wilberforce, a young member of parliament, in an attempt to abolish the slave trade on British ships. With Newton's firsthand experience with the slave trade and the position and energy of Wilberforce, these two were able to accomplish this commendable feat.

Newton soon thereafter died and was buried in the churchyard where he preached.

He wrote the following inscription of himself to mark his place of burial. "John Newton, clerk, once an infidel and libertine, a servant of slaves in Africa, was by the rich mercy of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ preserved, restored, pardoned, and appointed to preach the faith he long labored to destroy."

I was baptized almost two years ago. At first the scriptures seemed boring to me, and I didn’t understand them. To remedy this situation, I did a number of things.
I organized and managed my time; I chose a certain time each day during which I would spend the entire time reading the scriptures. I set a goal to read the Book of Mormon within a certain time. I used my imagination to become a participant in the events recorded in the scriptures. I always asked my Heavenly Father for help in understanding what I was reading. Sometimes I would discuss a certain passage with my bishop or someone else to help with that understanding.
The scriptures have become my best friends, and I know that they are of God.
Yngrid M. Heining, 17San Lorenzo Ward, Fernando de la Mora StakeParaguay

Many of you know this man, Tevita Toafa, in his capacity as associate director of BYU–Hawaii Food Services and manager of our cafeteria, a.k.a. "The Club".

When our family arrived here in 1993, Tevita assisted me with the BYUH–PCC Brass Band, and because of that association his family hosted our family soon after our arrival by preparing a dinner in our honor. I was amazed how the long table was so heavily laden with delicious food that it seemed to sag in the middle from the sheer weight of those culinary delights. Just before blessing the meal, Tevita apologized to our family that he could not provide a richer feast for us, even as my children's eyes nearly bugged out of their heads at the sight of so much food prepared for roughly a dozen people. Since that time, I have been to literally hundreds of ward luaus, baby luaus, wedding receptions, graduation parties, and other social gatherings like the Tongan feast depicted here.

I have learned that the great spirit of generosity in these islands is profoundly expressed through such feasting. Due to these experiences, I now know more perfectly the deep implications of the phrase "feasting upon the word of Christ." One of those implications, sometimes overlooked, is that our Savior made a great effort to provide sustenance for our journey, just as my Polynesian brothers and sisters consistently make a great effort to prepare sumptuous feasts to share with their friends and loved ones.

“So what about our rowing team—is it history?” the upperclassman was passionate as he put the question, obviously a rhetorical one, to the first-year students. “No way! It’s a tradition!”
I was one of those new students beginning medical school at the University of São Paulo, which had long been famous for its victories in rowing competitions. Team members had asked our professor for a few minutes to recruit for the team. We would be replacing those who had graduated.
As a result of the enthusiastic pitch, about 30 of us decided to try out. None of us had any rowing experience. We were all out of shape, as our coach constantly reminded us. He had been in the military and made no effort to hide his disgust at our sorry physical condition. He had lots of jokes, too, about the irony of poor muscle tone in students of medicine.
Training was grueling—held at 5:00 A.M., six days a week. We had to set our alarms for 4:15 to catch the bus to the training area. The less disciplined did not show up for long. Those of us who stayed noted that the coach gave all his attention to the team veterans. Meanwhile, we recruits were ordered to run around the campus perimeter.
The University of São Paulo campus covers a large area, so the run was about 6 miles (10 kilometers) and required enormous effort from men in our condition. We were exhausted when we finished, and the coach ordered us to the showers without comment.
This routine continued for several weeks. In time, a few ingenious souls discovered that they could cut their running time by taking a shortcut. Instead of making a full circle around campus, they detoured through the woods. Of course, they thought themselves very clever when they beat us to the showers. They even gave their shortcut a name: the easy return.
In time, the coach announced that he was ready to name those who would join the official team. To their surprise, not one of the men who took the easy return was selected. I still don’t know how the coach knew.
Each of us has a race to run in life. The course may become difficult at times, but we have a Coach who knows us well. He has promised us, “He that is faithful and endureth shall overcome the world” (D&C 63:47). Some people may seem to profit by breaking the rules, but in reality, no effort to keep the commandments will go unrewarded.
I always feel grateful when I think back to the rowing team. I still have the gold medal I was awarded for our victories. But more importantly, I have the determination I developed then never to take the easy return.

For Honoura “Bleck” Bonnet, basketball was everything. By age 15, Bleck was a rising star in French Polynesia—one of the best players playing for one of the best teams in the top adult division in the country. Though his nickname was a misspelling of the English word black, there was no mistaking his talent.
But he wanted more. He wanted to play professionally in Europe. And more than anything, he wanted to win a gold medal at the South Pacific Games.
The only obstacle that seemed to stand in his way was the Church.
Though the team Bleck played for at the time was Church sponsored, Bleck had little interest in the Church or the prophet’s call for every worthy and able young man to serve a mission.
He had already told his bishop he wouldn’t be going on a mission. He didn’t see how he could play professionally if he gave up two years.
What’s more, the South Pacific Games—held every four years—would take place during his mission, and the Tahiti Basketball Federation was interested in having him play for the national team. He would finally have an opportunity to put an end to those words his father said every time Bleck started thinking too highly of himself: “Everybody knows Bleck, but he doesn’t have a gold.”
Bleck’s father, Jean-Baptiste, meant those words good-naturedly. But they drove Bleck crazy. They were a reminder that even though basketball fans throughout Tahiti knew of him, he didn’t have a medal from the games. His father had won a gold medal with the men’s team during the first South Pacific Games.
It was Bleck’s mission to put those words to rest. He didn’t have time for any other mission.
Regardless of his feelings about a mission, Bleck still participated in Church activities. At a Church dance when he was 16, Bleck mustered up the courage to ask Myranda Mariteragi to dance. Myranda was a good basketball player too—with dreams of winning her own gold medal. Her father was also on that original medal-winning team.
Seconds after he asked her, the song ended. So they danced during the next song, which turned out to be the last of the evening. By then Bleck didn’t want the dance to end.
Bleck hadn’t planned on marrying in the temple or even marrying a member for that matter. But that began to change as he got to know Myranda better over the next two years. At her home one day, something she had made in Young Women caught his attention. It read, “I will marry in the temple.”
Bleck’s interest in Myranda and her firm commitment to temple marriage were enough to make him reconsider his plans. He decided to start taking the Church seriously. His decisions led to actions that allowed the Holy Ghost to work in his life.
One of those decisions was to prepare to receive a patriarchal blessing at age 18. When the patriarch stated in the blessing that Bleck would serve a mission and marry in the temple, he felt the Spirit. “I knew that’s what God wanted me to do,” he says.
Though the national team looked like it had a chance to medal, Bleck decided with his family’s support that he would put what God wanted ahead of what he wanted. The decision wasn’t easy. The pressure to play was great. And he quickly learned that his resolve to submit to God’s will would be tested more than once.
After he had served as a missionary in Tahiti for a year, the basketball federation asked if he could return to the team for just one month to participate in the games.
Bleck’s mission president, concerned about the effect the experience would have on Bleck’s ability to return and serve, felt inspired to tell him, “You can leave if you want, but you can’t come back.”
Bleck wanted that medal, but he no longer wanted it more than anything else. His mission had been amazing. He wasn’t willing to give up his last year, even for basketball.
Bleck stayed.
The team won gold.
After Bleck honorably completed his mission, he married Myranda in the Papeete Tahiti Temple, and they began a family. He also resumed playing for the national team.
Myranda was playing point guard on the women’s national team and preparing for the South Pacific Games herself.
However, as the games approached, the couple began to feel strongly that they should have a second child.
With the upcoming games less than a year away, it would have been easy to put off another baby long enough for Myranda to play. The women’s team had a good chance of medaling.
But the couple had learned from experience that submitting their wills to God brought greater blessings than anything they could hope for from following their own desires. After careful study and prayer, they decided to put their family first.
In 1999, while Myranda was eight months pregnant, the women’s team won gold.
Bleck and Myranda have been able to play basketball at the highest levels in French Polynesia over the past decade—winning national league championships and tournament cups and playing for the national team during the 2003 and 2007 games.
At the 2011 games, both participated, only this time Bleck was there as coach of the men’s team. While Myranda and the women’s team won the gold medal, the men’s team earned bronze, again falling short of Bleck’s dream of gold.
Bleck sometimes wonders what his life might have been like if he had done what he wanted instead of what God wanted.
“I’d probably have a gold medal,” he says. “Maybe I would have played professionally, maybe not.”
But the couple doesn’t regret the decisions they’ve made. They’re not sure how they could be happier.
“I married in the temple,” Bleck says. “I have a great wife, four beautiful children, and I’m still in the Church. Basketball alone couldn’t give me any of that. Those are blessings that have come as a result of putting the Lord first.”
Putting the Lord first hasn’t put his father’s teasing to rest, but it has given those words new meaning. A few years ago when the federation considered scheduling league games on Sundays, the club presidents met to discuss it. Someone asked, “Did you ask Bleck?”
The proposal was dropped.
Because Bleck has put the Lord first, not only does everybody know Bleck—they know what he believes.

To the Timmins family, “keeping it in the family” has developed a special meaning. It refers to a pocket-sized New Testament that has accompanied each new missionary that the family has sent out since 1926. Currently it is in the possession of Elder Matthew T. Bailey of the North Hollywood Third Ward, North Hollywood California Stake, who is serving as a missionary in Mexico. The original owner was Elder Bailey’s grandfather, W. Mont Timmins, who served in Canada.
Since that time the New Testament has been used by members of the Timmins family serving in Scotland, California, Chile, Uruguay, Argentina, Norway, Texas, Georgia, Italy, and France. When two missionaries are in the mission field at the same time, the one to go out first is presented with the book; then he mails it back as the next person in the family prepares to go. Before each missionary goes into the field, the family gathers for a special luncheon, after which the returned missionaries tell of their missionary experiences and bear their testimonies. Then the book is presented to the next missionary.
William Timmins, also a grandson of W. Mont Timmins, expressed the feelings of the Timmins missionaries toward the tradition by saying: “It’s like a bridge between generations. As each boy goes out, he can read notes and annotations written by his grandfather, uncles, and brothers. It’s amazing how those notes and marked scriptures have helped missionary after missionary.”

The first book I ever owned came to me on the heels of near tragedy. It was at a community Christmas tree party in our little country town of Clifton in Idaho. The huge tree lighted with hundreds of burning candles … set an ideal stage for that which followed. Before our horrified gaze Santa caught fire and as he ran frantically out through a rear exit he swept along with him trimmings, candles, presents, and even a part of the tree itself. …
I returned home … disconsolate and dejected because no gift was on the tree for me. The next day from out of the ruins of the fire a book, half burned, was found with my name in it. That book was Tom, the Bootblack, by Horatio Alger, Jr.

This is a time to discover talents and interests that will be of satisfaction to you for the rest of your lives. When I was a freshman here at BYU, Janie Thompson—a BYU legend in finding and developing talent—asked me if I would participate in a song and dance number she was producing for some sort of conference. I agreed. But after a few practices, Janie said, “Bob, I like your enthusiasm, but you are not much of a singer.” Since then I have not sought opportunities to stand in front of audiences and sing. But I have found numerous rewards for enthusiasm.

Through all of this, I did learn that I could work as hard as almost anyone. That was not a native skill; my dad taught me how to work, and all of my life I have been able to keep up with the hardest of workers. This became one of the most important lessons from my college life. Your successes highlight your gifts; your disappointments help you learn your limitations. And these are very important lessons that affect directly who you are in God’s plan. These lessons play a major role in helping you determine your true identity.

Achieving the Eagle award before the age of 13 is only one of the goals David Nielsen of the Orem 63rd Ward, Orem Utah South Stake, has set and fulfilled. In addition, he has earned all of the Boy Scout skill awards, 53 merit badges, his Trail to the Duty to God award, the Boy Scout Conservation award, the Presidential Physical Fitness award, and two citations in the American Red Cross Basic Life Support Course in cardio-pulmonary resuscitation. He earned the Boy Scout Lifeguard award (which included swimming a half mile) while his arm was in a cast. He also made two 25-mile bike rides toward his cycling merit badge during the same time.

Some years ago, as a pilot, I was taken by an instructor up in an airplane. By turning the airplane at less than two degrees at a time, the instructor succeeded in turning the airplane completely upside down. My inner ear could not detect the transition because he kept positive gravity upon us at all times. Therefore, I did not know that, when he gave the airplane to me, it was upside down. Everything on the airplane, every instrument, was exactly right except for the landing gear, which was upside down; and every reaction I made had an opposite reaction from what I thought it would have. This is called vertigo, and it taught me a great lesson.

This story happened in the Philippines.
“Mano po! Hello!” Arkin said to Grandma when he got home. He greeted her by bowing and pressing the back of her hand to his forehead.
Grandma smiled. “Your dad is waiting for you with the fish. Hurry and go help him!”
Arkin’s dad was a construction worker. He worked very hard to earn money for their family. But they didn’t have much. And sometimes Dad couldn’t find work. When that happened, Arkin helped him sell homemade tinapa (smoked fish).
Arkin and Dad put the packs of tinapa in a basket and carried it outside.
“Thank you for helping me,” said Dad. “I hope we sell enough to pay for a ride to church this week.”
Arkin’s family lived in a small village near rice fields and a fishpond. It was just him, Dad, Grandma, and his older sister. They were far away from the chapel. To get to church, they had to pay to ride a tricycle (a motorcycle with a sidecar). If they didn’t have the money, they had to walk for two hours.
“I have faith that Heavenly Father will help us,” Arkin said. “Let’s go!”
First they went to their neighbor Aling Nena’s house. She always bought tinapa from them.
“Good afternoon!” Arkin said.
Aling Nena opened the gate for them. “Oh, my two favorite people are here!” she said with a smile. She gave Dad some money, and he gave her two packs of tinapa.
“Thank you for buying from us!” Arkin said. “It really means a lot.”
Arkin and Dad walked back out to the street.
“Tinapa! Tinapa! Delicious tinapa!” Arkin called. More people bought fish from them.
It was hot outside, but Arkin didn’t mind. He and Dad sang “Count Your Blessings” as they walked. Every day was a blessing for them!
They kept singing and selling. Arkin almost didn’t notice that their basket was empty.
“Look, Dad! We sold all the fish!” Arkin said.
Dad smiled. “Yes, it’s a blessing.”
Arkin was glad they had sold so much tinapa. It would help pay some of their bills, and there was enough for a ride to church on Sunday!
But tomorrow was Saturday, and that was when they helped clean the church. So early the next morning, Arkin and Dad woke up to start the long walk to the church building. They always walked to save money for Sunday.
“Aren’t you tired of cleaning your church every Saturday?” asked Grandma before they left.
Dad put his hand on Grandma’s shoulder. “Cleaning the church is one way we serve the Lord.”
Arkin nodded. “We get blessings for cleaning the church. Heavenly Father helps our tinapa sell out so we can buy food!”
While they walked, Arkin and Dad sang more hymns. Then they worked hard to clean the church. Arkin wiped the dust from all the windows and chairs. Dad swept and mopped the floor.
When they were done, the bishop shared pandesal (sweet rolls) with everyone who helped. Arkin ate his snack with a big smile. It would be a long walk home, but his heart felt joyful and thankful. When they came back to church tomorrow, the building would be clean for everyone to enjoy and remember Jesus Christ. He was happy he could help.
Illustration by Margarida Esteves

My husband and I have two children: our daughter, Florence, and son, Frederick Monson. My father-in-law has lived with us for the past eight years. His name is Anthony and he is 88 years old. He is humble, patient, kind, and loving. He is a very faithful Roman Catholic who never misses his prayers or going to church. Be it winter, summer, or raining, attending church is important for him. He gets around by himself and besides church, he likes to go out to the park or to buy candy because he likes sweets.
Both my husband and I work so he is home alone for part of the day. On December 5, 2017, my husband and I were at our office. Around 3 p.m. I called my children to check up on their grandfather. When they told me that he had not yet returned from the sweet shop I felt that he may have become lost. I immediately informed my husband and he and his sister began searching for their father. I joined in the search after work. We searched all the first day and night, but we could not find him. The next morning, we went to the police station and filed a missing person report. The second day we posted his picture on Facebook and WhatsApp. We kept searching until Saturday, December 9. We were very worried. Our friends said that they would pray for his safe return. Some said they would put his name on the prayer roll at the temple. Others searched with us. We really felt the love of God through them.
My family kept praying and I continued my prayer and scripture study. All the scriptures I read were really uplifting and gave me more strength, confidence, faith, and hope that he would be back. An especially meaningful one was Doctrine & Covenants 90:24:
“Seek ye diligently, pray always, and be believing, and all things shall work together for your good, if ye walk uprightly and remember the covenant wherewith ye have covenanted one with another.”
We kept searching all the hospitals and drainage ditches from 6 a.m. until midnight. We did not think about food and the children were even left alone. Our only focus was to find my father-in-law. We printed a notice and posted it everywhere.
On Saturday, December 9, my husband went to search again, and I started to wash my father-in-law’s clothes and arrange his bed to prepare everything for him to come home and sleep comfortably. That evening, fasting, we started our search again. Satan was working very hard to discourage us, but we did not give up.
Following leads we received from other people, our search that night took us to a dark and dangerous place. Around 11:30 p.m., while we were searching in this area, showing my father-in-law’s picture to the people, a person approached and after enquiring asked us to leave immediately. He was the Inspector of Police of Nehru Place. We obeyed and left that place and, following another lead, started to walk towards the Kalka Mandir, another dark and dangerous area. We felt uncomfortable there, so we immediately left, reaching home around 1:00 a.m. on Sunday, December 10.
At 1:30 a.m. we knelt down and prayed with tears in our eyes. We decided that we would not search as it was Sunday. Our Heavenly Father wanted us to go to church and partake of the sacrament peacefully. He answered our prayer as we felt peace in our heart. Just as we finished our prayer, we received a call from one of my former classmates, telling me that she had seen an old man. She asked me to confirm that it was he through a video call. It was amazing that the person she had on the video was my father-in-law! We were astonished and once again we thanked our Heavenly Father, for He understood our intention and answered our prayer. My friend brought him to my home on the same night. It was truly a miracle that in a city of over 18 million people, my friend was able to find him.
We have seen miracles happen in our family through prayer, following the scriptures, and searching with faith. Though we have experienced many temptations, discouragements, and disappointments, we hold fast to God’s promise: “Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened” (3 Nephi 14:7–8; Matthew 7:7–8). I know that we found my father-in-law through the love of our Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ with the help of his angels, our friends.

As I left the missionary training center in Provo, Utah, USA, I had a very long flight ahead of me, with three layovers before I would finally arrive in my mission in Recife, Brazil. When I landed in Rio de Janeiro for the last leg of my journey, I missed my flight. It was rebooked, but I was left with a 14-hour wait in a country I had never been in before, and I couldn’t say much in Portuguese.
Hours passed as I sat there feeling lonely, forgotten, and tired from all the flights. As I began to cry, a voice said to me, “Elder, pray!” I prayed for help harder than I ever had before. As I said “Amen,” I heard a man sitting directly behind me speaking English. I turned and tapped his shoulder. The man was a returned missionary from South Africa who was fluent in both English and Portuguese. We got something to eat together, and he helped me communicate with my mission president. He helped strengthen my testimony that God will never forget His children! I felt His love that day, and I can truly testify that He hears our prayers.
Sione T., Oregon, USA

I’ll never forget one high school football game against a rival school. I played the wingback position, and my assignment was to either block the linebacker or try to get open so the quarterback could throw me the ball. The reason I remember this particular game so well is because the fellow on the other side of the line—the man I was supposed to block—was a giant.
I wasn’t exactly the tallest athlete in the world. But I think this other guy may have been. I remember looking up at him, thinking he probably weighed as much as two of me. Keep in mind, when I played we didn’t have the protective gear that players have today. My helmet was made of leather, and it didn’t have a face guard.
The more I thought about it, the more I came to a sobering realization: if I ever let him catch me, I could be cheering for my team the rest of the season from a hospital bed.
Lucky for me, I was fast. And for the better part of the first half, I managed to avoid him.
Except for one play.
Our quarterback dropped back to pass. I was open. He threw the ball, and it sailed towards me.
The only problem was that I could hear a lumbering gallop behind me. In a moment of clarity, I thought that if I caught the ball there was a distinct possibility I could be eating my meals through a tube. But the ball was heading for me, and my team was depending on me. So I reached out, and—at the last instant—I looked up.
And there he was.
I remember the ball hitting my hands. I remember struggling to hang on to it. I remember the sound of the ball falling to the turf. After that, I’m not exactly sure what happened, because the giant hit me so hard I wasn’t sure what planet I was on. One thing I did remember was a deep voice coming from behind a dark haze: “Serves you right for being on the wrong team.”
William McKinley Oswald was my high school football coach. He was a great coach and had a profound influence on my life. But I think he could have learned his method of motivating players from an army drill sergeant.
That day, during his half-time speech, Coach Oswald reminded the whole team about the pass I had dropped. Then he pointed right at me and said, “How could you do that?”
He wasn’t speaking with his inside voice.
“I want to know what made you drop that pass.”
I stammered for a moment and then finally decided to tell the truth. “I took my eye off the ball,” I said.
The coach looked at me and said, “That’s right; you took your eye off the ball. Don’t ever do that again. That kind of mistake loses ball games.”
I respected Coach Oswald, and in spite of how terrible I felt, I made up my mind to do what Coach said. I vowed to never take my eye off the ball again, even if it meant getting pounded to Mongolia by the giant on the other side of the line.
We headed back onto the field and started the second half. It was a close game, and even though my team had played well, we were behind by four points late in the fourth quarter.
The quarterback called my number on the next play. I went out again, and again I was open. The ball headed towards me. But this time, the giant was in front of me and in perfect position to intercept the pass.
He reached up, but the ball sailed through his hands. I jumped high, never taking my eye off the ball; stabbed at it; and pulled it down for the game-winning touchdown.
I don’t remember much about the celebration after, but I do remember the look on Coach Oswald’s face.
“Way to keep your eye on the ball,” he said.
I think I smiled for a week.

Josh followed Dad into the basement storage room, where he rummaged through some boxes and pulled out a shiny trophy with a football player on top.
Josh’s eyes grew big. “An MVP award! And it has your name on it!”
Dad nodded. “I received this when I was a junior—the first junior ever to earn it at our school. I thought I was the toughest, meanest, most powerful seventeen-year-old on earth. I played on both sides of the ball, but I preferred defense because I really got to unload on people. I loved to hear the crowd cheer when I made a hit.”
Josh stroked the trophy lovingly. “Why isn’t this where everybody can see it?”
Dad shrugged and put the trophy back into the box. “It just doesn’t seem that important anymore. Maybe that’s because my senior year I got an award that taught me a lot more.” He opened his wallet and took out a plastic bracelet.
Josh looked it over. “It’s like the bracelet Mom wore in the hospital when she had Stacey. But this one has your name on it.”
Dad nodded. “I earned it in the homecoming game. I’d intercepted a pass on the other team’s twenty, and only one man was between me and the end zone. He was so small, I didn’t bother putting any moves on him. I just lowered my head and charged. When I came to, I was lying on the field, and, Josh, I couldn’t move! This big, tough, proud football player was lying there eating grass—crying like a baby and scared out of his mind.”
Josh didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t imagine his strong, calm father frightened and helpless. “What happened?” he asked at last.
“They strapped me to some kind of a contraption, carried me behind the stands, and put me into an ambulance. I could hear the crowd cheering, and I thought, They’re watching the game again. They’ve forgotten all about me.
“My father was out of town, so my mother rode in the ambulance with me. Brother Jones got in too. Besides Dad, he was the only Melchizedek Priesthood holder in our little town. He was also the math teacher at school, and I didn’t like him much. He was small and soft-spoken, and he called the students ‘ladies and gentlemen.’ We all laughed at him behind his back.
“My mother asked if he would give me a blessing, and he said, ‘I’d be honored.’ He anointed me with oil. Then he put his small hands on my head and told me that Heavenly Father knew me and loved me. He said that people in wheelchairs can still serve valiantly, but that I had some work to do on foot. He promised me that I would walk again.”
“And you did!”
“It turned out that my spinal cord was only bruised. My recovery took a long time, though, and it wasn’t much fun. No one was kinder or more helpful than Brother Jones. Sometimes he held me up while I learned to walk again, and I was amazed at the strength in his small hands. I began to understand that power doesn’t come just from muscles, that some heavy weights can be lifted only by kindness, gentleness, and love. Do you understand, son?”
Josh looked at his feet. “A little.”
Dad put the bracelet back into his wallet, and Josh followed him upstairs to the living room. Taking a picture of the Savior from the wall, Dad said, “On my last day of school, I hobbled into Brother Jones’s room and told him that I hoped to be as strong someday as he was. He smiled and handed me a graduation gift. ‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘but here’s a better example to follow.’ I unwrapped this picture. Since then I’ve studied the life of the Savior and done my best to follow his example.”

I walked to school one day, my first day in fourth grade and at a new school. I was scared but got to my classroom OK. At recess, I was all alone. I saw Erin* all alone, too. She didn’t have any friends, and other kids made fun of her because she had lived in three foster homes.
I went over and said hi. She started crying. I asked what was wrong. She said that nobody had been that nice to her. It made me feel really warm inside to know that I had made someone feel better.

I didn’t know which was louder—my footsteps in the big, silent house, or my pounding heart. I hurried through the darkness and down the stairs to my parents’ room. I tried to step softly so the stairs wouldn’t creak.
Our hundred-year-old house often creaked and popped at night. Dad said it was the sounds of the old wood and adobe settling as the night cooled down. But it still sounded scary.
Dad was out of town for work, and I felt bad waking Mom up, but I had to talk to her. I stood in the doorway. The moonlight shone through Mom’s white curtains. I felt a little less frightened already.
“Mom?” I called softly.
She turned over. “What’s the matter?”
“I had a bad dream again.”
“Oh no. Come snuggle with me, OK?”
Relieved, I climbed into the big bed. The sheets felt cool and soft. Mom hugged me tightly. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
“It was the dream with the giant shark.”
“You’ve had that dream before,” Mom said. I nodded and tucked my head under Mom’s chin. “Well, you’re safe, sweetheart. Sleep here with me until morning. After school tomorrow, we can talk some more.”
All day I wondered what Mom would say after school about my scary dreams. The shark dream wasn’t the only one. Sometimes I dreamed about a prickly monster. One night I even dreamed that my family was in a car accident.
My dreams really bothered me. Sometimes I screamed and cried in the night. I even felt afraid to fall asleep.
After school, I sat down with Mom. “Are you still thinking about the giant shark?” Mom asked.
I nodded.
“What do you think you’re going to do about those scary dreams?”
“Mom, they’re dreams. I didn’t make them start. I don’t think I can make them stop.”
“Probably not by yourself,” Mom said. “But there’s someone I ask for help when I have a problem I can’t solve by myself.”
“You mean Heavenly Father!” I said.
“Right! You can ask Heavenly Father to help you sleep well at night, with no bad dreams.”
“In my prayers before bed?”
“Then, and any other time you’re thinking about it. I know He will listen to you and help you.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“I ask Heavenly Father about problems a lot, and He helps me. Just this morning I asked Him what to do about your scary dreams.”
“Did He help you?”
“Yes. I had the idea that you should pray about your dreams, and when that idea came to my mind, I felt the Holy Ghost telling me it was a good thing to do.”
“How did it feel?”
“I felt warm and happy, and I felt sure everything would be OK,” Mom said. “Do you know what I mean?”
“I think so,” I said. And then I noticed that I felt warm and happy inside. “Mom, that’s how I feel right now!” I said.
“That’s the Holy Ghost telling you that what you’re learning is right,” Mom said.
That night, and every night for a long time afterward, I prayed that I could sleep well with no bad dreams. My bad dreams didn’t come back. Heavenly Father answered my prayer.

Another early African pioneer is Anthony Obinna of Nigeria. He relates that one night in the late 1960s “I was sleeping and a tall man came to me [in a dream], took me to one of the most beautiful buildings, and showed me all the rooms.” In 1970 he read an article in an old Reader’s Digest titled “The March of the Mormons,” which included a picture of the Salt Lake Temple. “It was exactly the same building I had seen in my dream,” he said. Brother Obinna wrote to the Church for LDS literature.

In 1978, when the Obinna family learned of the revelation on the priesthood, they wrote to the First Presidency: “We are happy for the many hours in the upper rooms of the temple you spent supplicating the Lord to bring us into the fold. We thank our Heavenly Father for hearing your prayers and ours.”

When the missionaries arrived in Nigeria, they found many people prepared for the gospel as a result of Brother Obinna’s teaching and leadership. The first LDS chapel built in Nigeria is near the Obinnas’ home in Aboh Mbaise.

There was snow on the ground and decorations were everywhere. Christmas music played on the radio and people smiled and laughed and shouted, “Merry Christmas!” But this year there was an added excitement for Breana, who told her mother, “I can’t wait!”
Mother laughed. “You say that every year, but somehow you do.”
“But this year is different!” Breana exclaimed. “For nine long years I’ve wanted to be a sister, and now I’m going to be one for Christmas.”
“The baby could come after Christmas,” Mother teased.
“No,” Breana said confidently. “This Christmas I will finally be somebody’s sister.”
Mother hugged Breana to her. “I’m glad you’re so happy.”
“I’ll feed the baby and change its diapers. I’ll be the best babytender in the whole world!” Breana promised.
“I’m sure you will be.” Mother smoothed her daughter’s curly black hair as she walked over to the kitchen sink to start dinner.
Breana sat down at the table and watched. She remembered how graceful and slender her mother used to be. Now she was big and moved awkwardly about the room. Sometimes she stopped her work and rubbed her back.
Breana’s eyes drifted until they settled on the paper-sculpture nativity scene she and Mother had carefully cut out and arranged on the buffet. The figure of Joseph was hovering over Mary as though trying to protect her. Mary was sitting on piled hay with the baby Jesus held tenderly in her arms. The shepherds seemed to be afraid to come too close, yet strained to be as close as they dared. Breana almost thought she could see them moving slightly forward to get a better look at the precious baby.
“Do you want salad with dinner?” Mother interrupted Breana’s thoughts.
“That sounds good,” Breana answered. “Can I help you make it?”
“Of course,” Mother answered.
Breana walked to her mother’s side and began tearing apart the lettuce.
“Just four more days,” Mother said. “Do you really think the baby will get there before Christmas?”
Breana’s eyes turned again to the nativity scene. There was something tender about the way Mary looked at her baby.
“Yes,” Breana said slowly. “I’m sure of it.”
“I hope you’re right.” Mother sighed and rubbed her back again.
“Are you all right?” Breana asked.
“Yes,” Mother answered. “I just feel tired.”
“You go sit down,” Breana said. “I can finish the salad.”
Slowly Mother walked over to the kitchen table. Breana watched as she awkwardly braced herself against the table and then slowly lowered herself into a chair. She must hurt, Breana thought and once more looked at the paper statue of Mary.
“How do you think she ever rode the donkey all that way?” Breana asked.
“Who?” Mother asked.
“Mary—before Jesus was born. How could she have traveled all the way to Bethlehem on a donkey? She must have been big and uncomfortable too.”
A tear appeared in the corner of Mother’s eye. “I’m sure it was hard for her,” Mother answered. And she, too, stared at the nativity scene.
For a long moment neither said anything. The tear in mother’s eye slid onto her cheek and she wiped it off with her hand.
“I feel so close to Mary and Joseph and the Christ child,” Breana said. “Closer than I’ve ever felt before. I just know this is going to be the best Christmas ever.”
It was nearly morning when Breana’s father tiptoed into her room and gently shook her shoulder until she opened her eyes.
“Breana, you’re a sister!”
“What?” Breana jerked around and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
“You have a brand new baby brother.”
Breana threw her arms around her father’s neck. “At last! I’m finally a sister,” she said. “How’s Mother? When can they come home from the hospital? What are we going to name the baby?”
“Wait, Breana, honey. One question at a time. Your mother is fine and the doctor said she could come home Christmas Eve day.”
“That’s wonderful!” Breana exclaimed.
“And your mother said to ask you for suggestions about names,” Father said.
“That’s easy,” Breana responded. “I think we should name him Joseph.”
Father nodded his head thoughtfully.
“That’s a good suggestion. And now, young lady, back to sleep.”
Father left the room, but Breana was too excited to sleep. Finally she tiptoed into the kitchen and turned on the small light over the stove. It seemed to give the nativity scene on the buffet a luminous and dreamy appearance. “I waited so very long to be a sister,” she whispered. “But the whole world waited for this baby.”
Breana walked over to the nativity and traced the outline of the tiny baby with her finger and stared once more into Mary’s face. “You must have been the first person on earth to love Jesus,” she said softly. “And I’m going to be one of the first people on earth to love our new baby.”
She ran her finger once more over the blue blanket (see Luke 2:7) and as she did a thought struck her, almost jolted her. Breana smiled. “All the time I was waiting to become a sister, but I already was one and didn’t realize it!” she murmured.
Breana looked once more at the baby in Mary’s arms, then turned out the light and went back to bed.
The next two days seemed as though they would never end, but at last it was Christmas Eve day. Father and Breana went to the hospital to get Mother and the baby.
Mother kissed Breana’s cheek and asked, “Do you want to hold Joseph?”
“Joseph?” Breana cried.
“What better name for a Christmas brother!” Father said, smiling.
Breana held out her arms and Mother gently placed the baby in them. A warm and loving feeling filled Breana. “It feels so good to be a sister,” she said. Carefully she pulled the blanket back from Joseph’s red pudgy face and smiled at him.
“He’s beautiful!” she exclaimed. Already she knew she loved him. Already she felt that she had known him forever and ever.
Suddenly she was aware of “Silent Night” being played on the car radio. She remembered the nativity scene and Mary holding her baby, a baby who was also her Brother! They would celebrate His birthday tomorrow.

One of the ways Heavenly Father helps us find happiness is through righteous parents and Church leaders. They see things differently than we do, and we must listen to them and obey them. Once a group of young men went to a lake. They took a bow and ten arrows with them and decided to shoot at birds flying overhead. Each time they aimed at a bird and shot, they missed. The bird flew away, and the arrow fell harmlessly into the lake.

After they had shot the last arrow, one boy decided to swim to the middle of the lake to retrieve the arrow. He dove in and headed toward it. He got it and then turned back to swim for shore. By this time he was extremely tired. His wet clothing weighed him down. Holding the arrow in his hand made swimming very difficult. He began to fear that he might drown, and he called out desperately to his friends for help.

“Put your feet down and walk to shore,” they called back to him. He couldn’t see things clearly, but his friends, who were looking at things from the shore, knew that he was in shallow water. All he had to do was stand up, and he would be safe.