Gospel Story Finder

When Elder Holland was a young dad, he moved across the country with his wife and two children to go to college.
They packed everything in their little car and started driving. After only 34 miles, the car broke down. Elder Holland looked under the car’s hood, but he didn’t know what was wrong. He walked three miles back to the nearest town to get help.
When he got there, a kind man gave him a ride back to his car. They drove Elder Holland’s car very slowly back to a larger city to get it repaired.
The mechanic checked the car for two hours, but he couldn’t find anything wrong. So Elder Holland and his family set off again. At exactly the same spot as last time, the car broke down again!
Elder Holland started the long walk for help again. The same kind man gave him a ride and helped bring the car back to the larger city. Elder Holland felt worried and discouraged.
Thirty years after this happened, Elder Holland drove by the same spot, this time in a car that worked. He remembered how hard that time was for his family. He wished he could tell his younger self, “Don’t give up, boy. Don’t you quit. You keep walking. You keep trying. There is help and happiness ahead—a lot of it—30 years of it now, and still counting. You keep your chin up. It will be all right in the end. Trust God and believe in good things to come.”

Christmas was a very exciting time for my brothers and me! Our parents would take us to see the decorative lights in Cape Town, which were always very impressive; there was always a Primary party celebrating Christmas and the birth of the Saviour—and our schools closed over the “Festive Season,” YEAH!
For weeks we would construct a letter to Father Christmas. We would write and rewrite the letter every time we saw something in the shops that we wanted. We would each state that we had been good boys and really needed the item we had put down for him to bring. We would give Dad the letter to mail, addressed to “Father Christmas, North Pole.” My dad worked in the post office, so we thought that if he posted it, it would get there much sooner.
We were chased to bed early on Christmas Eve as ‘Father Christmas will not visit us with presents,’ Mom said, if we were still awake. But first, we had to put out something for him to drink and eat. It was amazing to me how there were no presents under the tree when we went to bed but when we awoke, the presents had magically appeared and of course, Mom and Dad knew nothing about it.

Ten-year-old Cameron Julian of McPherson, Kansas, followed the promptings of the Spirit. Cameron loves baseball, and he was thrilled when he was chosen to be the batboy for a traveling baseball team. The team participated in a tournament and were to play in the championship game—a game to be held on a Sunday. Cameron decided to ask Heavenly Father what to do. As he prayed, he felt prompted by the Holy Ghost to miss the game and keep the Sabbath Day holy.

At first, Cameron felt really bad about missing the game. But he gradually felt peaceful about his decision. From this experience, Cameron gained a testimony that “it was hard to choose the right, but I was blessed for following the promptings of the Holy Ghost.”

Wilford Woodruff’s family suffered along with the others. In October, while Wilford cut timber, a falling tree struck him and broke some of his ribs. Soon after, his little son Joseph caught a severe cold. Wilford and Phebe attended to the boy constantly, but nothing they did helped, and soon they buried his body in the settlement’s newly plotted cemetery.
Some weeks after Joseph’s death, Phebe delivered a baby prematurely, and the child died two days later. One evening, Wilford came home and found Phebe distraught, looking at a portrait of herself holding Joseph. Losing the children pained them both, and Wilford longed for when the Saints would find a home, live in peace, and enjoy the blessings and safety of Zion.
“I pray my Heavenly Father to lengthen out my days,” he wrote in his journal, “to behold the house of God stand upon the tops of the mountains and to see the standard of liberty reared up as an ensign to the nations.”27

They were looking for an all-day party that was short on cost and long on fun—and they found one. The young people of the Providence [Utah] Ward headed for the nearby hills and skiing, tubing, tobogganing, snowmobiling, and lots of good times.
The group went to Beaver Mountain. For some skiers it meant perfecting stem christies, but for others it meant struggling with first-attempt snowplows.
Denise Burton recalled her first time on skis. “I was really frustrated. My boot kept slipping off my ski, and I finally got so mad that I took off my skis and walked down the hill. But it was fun.”
After hours on the slopes there were lots of huddled masses yearning to be warm as they filled themselves with hot chili in the lodge. Dessert was two ski movies.
Everyone in the Providence Aaronic Priesthood and Young Women groups will remember the show-offs, cold chair lifts, and helpfulness of friends that day. Many expressed feelings similar to Todd Hammond’s when he said, “As I was up in the mountains, I thought that there had to be a God to create this beautiful scenery.”

Brothers, sisters, and friends, in 2013 my wife, Laurel, and I were called to serve as mission leaders in the Czech/Slovak Mission. Our four children served with us. We were blessed as a family with brilliant missionaries and by the remarkable Czech and Slovak Saints. We love them.
As our family entered the mission field, something Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin taught went with us. In a talk titled “The Great Commandment,” Elder Wirthlin asked, “Do you love the Lord?” His counsel to those of us who would answer yes was simple and profound: “Spend time with Him. Meditate on His words. Take His yoke upon you. Seek to understand and obey.” Elder Wirthlin then promised transformative blessings to those willing to give time and place to Jesus Christ.
We took Elder Wirthlin’s counsel and promise to heart. Together with our missionaries, we spent extended time with Jesus, studying Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John from the New Testament and 3 Nephi from the Book of Mormon. At the end of every missionary meeting, we found ourselves back in what we referred to as the “Five Gospels,” reading, discussing, considering, and learning about Jesus.
For me, for Laurel, and for our missionaries, spending time with Jesus in the scriptures changed everything. We gained a deeper appreciation for who He was and what was important to Him. Together we considered how He taught, what He taught, the ways He showed love, what He did to bless and serve, His miracles, how He responded to betrayal, what He did with difficult human emotions, His titles and names, how He listened, how He resolved conflict, the world He lived in, His parables, how He encouraged unity and kindness, His capacity to forgive and to heal, His sermons, His prayers, His atoning sacrifice, His Resurrection, His gospel.
We often felt like the “[short] of stature” Zacchaeus running to climb a sycamore tree as Jesus passed through Jericho because, as Luke described it, we “sought to see Jesus who he was.” It was not Jesus as we wanted or wished Him to be, but rather Jesus as He really was and is. Just as Elder Wirthlin had promised, we learned in a very real way that “the gospel of Jesus Christ is a gospel of transformation. It takes us as men and women of the earth and refines us into men and women for the eternities.”
Those were special days. We came to believe that “with God nothing shall be impossible.” Sacred afternoons in Prague, Bratislava, or Brno, experiencing the power and reality of Jesus, continue to resonate in all of our lives.

Illustration by Mark Robison
“The rain barrel is empty,” said 10-year-old Lydia as she wiped a plate dry. “May I use some well water on my raspberry patch?”
Lydia’s mother sighed as she washed a bowl in the sink. “I’m afraid raspberries are a luxury during a drought. You may use the dish rinse water, but we need to save the well water.”
Lydia frowned. Her raspberry jam had once won a blue ribbon at the Iowa State Fair. She didn’t think her berries would be as delicious if she used dishwater on them.
Lydia’s father came into the kitchen and sat down heavily. He wiped his sweaty forehead.
“Are you all right, Stephen?” Mother asked.
“I’m fine,” Father said, “but I have some bad news. The well has finally gone dry.”
Lydia felt a stab of worry. A lot of the neighbors’ wells had already dried out. Mother twisted her apron in her hands.
“Don’t despair,” Father said gently, taking Mother’s hand. “We still have the deeper windmill well out in the fields. I’m taking the tank truck there right now.”
“May I go?” Lydia asked, suddenly feeling better. She was so glad they had that windmill!
“Yes,” Mother said. “I’ll save the rinse water for you.”
“Thank you!” Lydia hurried outside. Maybe if she helped fetch the well water, Father would let her use some on the raspberries.
Father climbed into the truck, and they began their dusty drive to the far end of the fields. When they reached the windmill, Lydia sat up and stared. Several wagons and trucks lined the road, and a crowd of people stood around the well. All of them had tanks and barrels.
“What are they doing?” Lydia asked.
Father narrowed his eyes. “Getting water, it looks like.”
“But it’s our water!” Lydia said. She imagined her raspberries drying out under the hot sun. “We need it. They can’t just take it!”
Father parked the truck and hopped out. “Stay put, Lydia,” he said.
The people around the well froze and silently watched Father approach.
Lydia couldn’t hear what Father said, but when he finished talking, she was surprised that many of the people were smiling. Some even cried and shook Father’s hand. Then they all worked together to fill all their barrels and tanks.
Lydia didn’t understand. Why was Father doing this?
When the crowd left and Father began filling his own tank, Lydia climbed out.
“You gave away our water,” Lydia muttered. Confusion and anger washed over her.
Lydia’s father stooped down so he was face-to-face with Lydia. “Listen carefully, Lydia Lucille. I figure the water in this well is a gift from God. We no more own it than we own the air we breathe. As long as there is water in this well, we will share it with those in need.”
Father then dipped a ladle into a bucket and handed it to Lydia. Gratefully she drank the cold, clean water. She thought about all the other people and how scary it must be for them to not have water of their own. She was glad her father decided to share.
Lydia scrambled back into the truck. She was anxious to get home and pour the dishwater on her thirsty berries. She might not get as many big, juicy raspberries this year. But whatever she got, she would be sure to share.
Even though many people used the windmill well on Lydia’s farm during the summer drought of 1930, the well never ran out of water.

In 1966, while the Vietnam War was raging, I went to that land. When we landed at Tan Son Nhut Airport, Colonel Rosza put a piece of paper in front of me and said, “Sign this.”

I said, “What is it?”

He said, “It’s a release relieving the United States government of any responsibility for you while you are in Vietnam.”

I signed the release, and we climbed aboard an old “goony bird” airplane and went down the runway. The sergeant had left the door open. When we got up in the air I said, “Aren’t you going to close the door?”

And he said, “It’s too hot.”

And so we flew up to Da Nang, and I’ll never forget that meeting as long as I live. Men came in from the battle areas and stacked their rifles at the door of the building. Three of their number had been killed that previous week, and we held a memorial service for them and had a meeting. Soldiers of the Jewish faith were to have had the building that night—it was Saturday—and when they saw how many of us there were (there were only about a dozen of them), they generously said, “You go back in and use the building.”

When the meeting was over, we were loaded into an army ambulance and taken to stay the night in an unfinished field hospital. It was made of components that were being bolted together—produced in the States and shipped to Vietnam. The windows were all sealed and the air-conditioning wasn’t working, so it was like an oven. To take a shower we had a big barrel of water with a dipper. All through the night fighter aircraft were flying north, and we wondered how many of them would come back.

We went down to Nha Trang on Sunday morning and held a wonderful meeting there. We had the sacrament with men who hadn’t had the sacrament in months.

For me that was a great and significant and unforgettable experience.

Photograph by Allison Oberg
Sister Rachael Oberg was originally called to the Canada Montreal Mission speaking French. She was excited to serve the Lord but came home due to health reasons after serving for six months.
Sister Oberg was sad to leave her mission in Canada, but she felt prompted to continue her service and move forward with faith. Service missionaries live with immediate or extended family members, so Sister Oberg moved home with her parents and worked with her stake president to transfer to the Oregon Portland Mission, in the area where she lives.
When Sister Oberg served as a teaching missionary in Canada, she felt that she was the voice of the Lord as she taught the Savior’s gospel to others. Now, as a service missionary, she tries to serve as the hands of the Lord.
Sister Oberg said one challenge facing service missionaries “is having that sense of fulfillment in what you do and knowing that it is enough and that Heavenly Father is proud of you.”
Her approach? “It’s about that mindset shift I tried to have. You are serving someone in the hopes that you can become their friend. You are learning how to love other children of God.”
“You are serving someone in the hopes that you can become their friend.”
Under the direction of her mission leader, Sister Oberg has been able to serve in the Portland Oregon Temple, the temple’s visitors’ center, a senior center, and food pantries.
Sister Oberg shared that teaching missions and service missions, though different, are “one and the same. They are both the work. They are both bringing others to … Jesus Christ.”
One of the biggest lessons Sister Oberg’s parents learned from watching her missionary experience is that the Lord has a pattern. “He asks us to do things that are full of surprises and learning opportunities,” said Sister Oberg’s mother, “and when we do them with our whole heart, the outcome is the same: increased trust in our Savior and an increased ability to feel His love for ourselves and those we are serving.”

As a teen I studied in a technical school for young men. It was hard to be a member of the Church in an atmosphere where there were other beliefs or no beliefs at all. Being the only member in school was difficult because I felt alone; I felt different. My classmates were relatively good, but many didn’t share my principles.
I remember well one time when they wanted to get me to smoke. They didn’t say it directly. Instead, one of them lit a cigarette while we were in our classroom waiting for the professor. We weren’t supposed to smoke inside the school.
I was sitting in the back. The guys at the front of the room lit the cigarette, and they each took a puff and passed it on. Everyone was watching to see it get to me. Finally the guy in front of me took a puff and turned around.
I didn’t take the cigarette.
He said, “Come on. Go ahead.”
“No, I’m not going to smoke.”
He took the cigarette and put it to my mouth. So I hit him. He hit me back. Then almost everyone in the room started to fight, though we quickly calmed down before the professor got there.
Now I’m not saying that was the right way to respond, but I was only 13. I didn’t know how to respond. I just knew no one was going to make me smoke.
After class I found the boy I had hit and asked his forgiveness. With some emotion, he told me, “No, I’m the one who needs to ask your forgiveness.”
If I had lowered my standards, would the Holy Ghost have stayed with me? Or would I have lost my guide?
By choosing the right, I allowed the Holy Ghost to be my companion. With Him as my guide, I had help making the right decisions, and my testimony was strengthened.

I was raised on a small farm in northern Utah. We were blessed to have enough land—not enough to make a living, but enough to make work for a young boy. My parents were good, hardworking, industrious people. In order to make ends meet, my father took outside employment. Each morning before he left for work, he would make a list of chores he wanted me to accomplish before he came home that evening.
I remember on one occasion one of the items on the list was to take a small broken part from our hay rake to the blacksmith shop to have it repaired. I was uncomfortable about going. My father hadn’t left any money, and I wondered what I should do. I put off going as long as I could. When all my other chores were finished, I knew I couldn’t avoid it any longer. Father expected the broken part to be repaired when he came home, and it was my responsibility to see that it was done.
I can still remember walking the mile or so to the blacksmith shop. I even remember how uncomfortable I was as I watched him weld the part. As he finished, I nervously told him that I had no money, but that my father would pay him later. I’m sure he sensed my anxiety. He patted me on the shoulder and said, “Son, don’t worry, your father’s word is as good as his bond.” I remember running all the way home, relieved that the part had been repaired and grateful that my father was known as a man whose word was as good as his bond.
As a boy I didn’t fully understand what that meant, but I knew it was good and something to be desired. It was years later that I recognized that a person whose word is as good as his bond is a person of honesty and integrity, a person to be trusted. In today’s world, there are some who think nothing of breaking their word, their promises, their covenants with man and with God. What a blessing it is to deal with those whom we can trust.

When President Russell M. Nelson spoke about using the correct name of the Church, his message was very clear to me: “It is the command of the Lord. … To remove the Lord’s name from the Lord’s Church is a major victory for Satan” (“The Correct Name of the Church,” Oct. 2018 general conference [Ensign or Liahona, Nov. 2018, 87, 88]).
Committed to using the Church’s full name, I waited for the next opportunity to claim my membership in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Sure enough, that opportunity came. “You Mormons are such kind people,” someone told me.
“Well, thank you,” I answered. “As members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we believe we’re all brothers and sisters.” Then the conversation continued with him and everyone else talking about the kindness of “Mormons.”
Although I had done my part in saying the full name of the Church, my friends and associates still viewed me as part of the “Mormon Church” and not necessarily as a follower of Christ, let alone as a member of Christ’s restored Church.
Over the next several interactions about my faith, I found it awkward to say the full name of the Church multiple times in the same conversation. Everyone I spoke to seemed to give me odd expressions. And they continued to use the term “Mormons.”
I wanted to make my interactions feel more natural. But this turned out to be more difficult than I expected, particularly with individuals I didn’t want to offend. I didn’t want to be embarrassed or lazy about living my faith, but I also didn’t want to come across as harsh, since many of these people had previously called me “Mormon,” with me accepting it. I also heard many members of the Church still calling members of the Church “Mormons.”
I found myself asking whether using the full name of the Church was really that important in the grand scheme of things. The “Mormon” brand, after all, is quite positive in the minds of many people—being a “Mormon” had often been an asset to me. But in revisiting President Nelson’s talk, I was impressed that this really is that important, even if it did cause some awkwardness in conversation. So I recommitted myself.
One day I was visiting a friend at a church of another faith. Someone came up to me and with a bright smile asked if I was a Mormon. “Yes, I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” I said.
He started asking me several questions, each beginning with: “Does the Mormon Church believe … ?”
And each time, I began my answer with the phrase: “In the restored Church of Jesus Christ, we believe …”
This banter went back and forth several times. When he noticed that I wasn’t accepting the title “Mormon,” he asked me point-blank, “Are you not Mormon?”
So I asked him if he knew who Mormon was—he didn’t. I told him that Mormon was a prophet, a historian, and a military general in the ancient Americas. I am honored to be associated with a man who was so dedicated to the service of God and others.
“But,” I continued, “Mormon didn’t die for my sins. Jesus Christ is my God and my Savior. He is my Redeemer. And it is by His name that I want to be known at the last day, and it’s by His name that I hope to be known today.”
I felt the assurance of the Spirit supporting me in this short testimony to my new acquaintance. After a few seconds of silence, he said, “So, you’re a Christian?”
“Yes, I’m a Christian,” I responded, “and a member of Christ’s restored Church.”
Seeking to follow the instruction of the prophet seemed simple, but it turned out to take more effort than I expected. I’m still not perfect at following everything I’m asked to do, but I make sure to use the full name of the Church.
I’m grateful for the Spirit that I feel when I get to testify to others about my Savior and my membership in His Church.

In the late 1800s, the Tintic mining district near the southern end of Utah County was one of the more important mining districts in the western United States. Jesse had no real training in how to find an ore deposit, but he enjoyed prospecting anyway and did prospect for seven years in this district before he found anything of real worth. It is that discovery that was most remarkable and unexpected—at least by some.

This is the week in my Geology 460 course that we generally discuss how ore deposits such as those in the Tintic Mountains are formed and what the best indicators are for evaluating the possible proximity of a large ore deposit. These guides to finding an ore deposit are particularly well known for the East Tintic mining district because in the mid-1900s the United States Geological Survey spent 25 years working in the district to develop the exploration guides. To teach this part of the course, I take my students on a field trip to the area and show them the different types and combinations of hydrothermal alteration that are often indicative of a concealed ore deposit. Then I take them to the east side of Godiva Mountain, where the rocks are really quite unremarkable. I wish I could take all of you to this locality.

Well, let us imagine that we are on the east side of Godiva Mountain in southern Utah County. Our story resumes with Jesse sitting down somewhere around here to rest under a pine tree. Suddenly, to his surprise, “he heard a voice distinctly say to him, ‘This country is here for the Mormons’” (in Jesse Knight Family,37). That was all. He assumed that was a good indication regarding the area where he was prospecting, so he continued looking. Jesse brought Jared Roundy, who he considered to be an expert miner, to come and evaluate the likelihood of there being ore concealed at depth on the site. He asked Mr. Roundy if he would like to be a partner in staking a claim on this site. Mr. Roundy declared that this area was a “darned” old humbug and that he wanted no part of it. Jesse was not deterred and staked his claim on this piece of ground that day, calling it the Humbug claim. (See Knight, The Jesse Knight Family, 37–38.)

Jesse eventually began driving a tunnel to look for ore. There are piles of waste rock from the Humbug tunnels, and initially that is all there was—just waste rock. There was no ore to justify all of his effort. In fact, there were no other productive mines on this side of the mountain. But he was confident that ore would be found, so he hired the two very best miners that were working in the adjacent Tintic district and talked his son J. William into coming to work for him as well. Those three worked in eight-hour shifts, and Jesse’s job was to wheel the broken rock out of the tunnel in a wheelbarrow. Driving a tunnel using just a single jackhammer and a wheelbarrow is extremely slow and difficult work. The four of them did this for almost two months, finding nothing except extremely boring and unremarkable limestone. (See Jesse Knight Family, 40.)

I agree with Jared Roundy: looking at this rock from a geologic point of view, there is no reason to anticipate finding anything of worth in the vicinity. Jesse must have had a lot of faith to continue this pursuit day after day! J. William Knight recorded:

One day while we were walking up the steep mountain side to do work in the Humbug claim, father said, “Will, I want to tell you something. We are going to have all the money that we want as soon as we are in a position to handle it properly. We will some day save the credit of the Church.” [Jesse Knight Family,39]

Well, you know how children are with their parents. J. William was in disbelief. He reminded his father that they had mortgaged the ranch and that the Church, at this difficult juncture in 1896, “was in debt probably over a million dollars.” Will thought his father’s statement was “ridiculous,” and he said that he “argued considerably” with him (Jesse Knight Family, 39).

Here is where Jesse now sounded just like his mother. He replied, “I don’t want to quarrel with you about it, but I never had anything come to me with greater force than the impression that came to me at this time, and all I want you to do is to remember what I am saying” (p. 39). Jesse regarded their future wealth as a sure thing and felt that it would be given strictly “for the purpose of doing good and building up the Church” (Jesse Knight Family, 39–40). So Jesse and his son didn’t argue or discuss the matter any further.

About three o’clock one morning in August 1896, one of the two hired miners came down from the tunnel and said that he had just struck a vein containing ore. J. William was excited, but his father Jesse was rather subdued about it. They both went up to the tunnel, and Jesse went in and loaded up the first wheelbarrow full of ore and came out and dumped it on a small platform. Then he stated, “I have done the last day’s work that I ever expect to do where I take another man’s job from him” (in Jesse Knight Family, 40). From then on he hoped he would be able to provide work and employment opportunities for others.

Before we finish our field trip here today, let me tell you about the ore. It may have been mostly lead sulfide or lead carbonate, but the real value of the ore was in gold and silver. Each ton of ore contained roughly 175 ounces of silver and 3.8 ounces of gold, which is very rich ore (see Jesse Knight Family, 41). So just a small pile of rock would contain the equivalent of 175 of these one-ounce silver coins. This is impressive, considering that this was supposedly a humbug of a claim!

Illustration by Jennifer Tolman; sketches from Getty Images
I have always wanted to be a great contributor in science. During my undergraduate studies at Brigham Young University–Hawaii, Dr. Douglas Oba, a very supportive professor, introduced me to and trained me in the world of molecular biology and biotechnology. I even had the opportunity to work at the molecular laboratory at Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah, USA, for a summer internship.
When I went home to the Philippines, I landed a job at the DNA Analysis Laboratory at the University of the Philippines. The highlights of my career included working on various community projects, attending trainings and conferences, and being recognized by local and international science communities for my scientific publications. I also started my graduate program. I felt fulfilled in my new career.
After two years of working, I married my childhood friend in the temple. A little while later, we had our first baby and for the first time I found myself struggling. I didn’t know how to balance caring for the baby, spending time with my husband, keeping up with classes in my graduate program, juggling projects and papers at work, and fulfilling Church callings. I talked with my husband about my struggles, and he gently suggested that I consider stepping away from my career. I saw some wisdom in his advice, but I wasn’t ready to give up my professional life yet.
When I was pregnant with our second child, I had pre-term labor that required me to be on bed rest. I finally realized that I couldn’t do it all at once. I knew I had to make the choice that would be best for me and my family. After much pondering and prayer, I decided to leave my scientific work and instead devote my full time to my children.
I had planned for motherhood my whole life, but I never realized how much of a sacrifice this choice would be. I tried my best to keep a positive attitude, but I often felt sad that my career and graduate program had been cut short. I prayed to Heavenly Father for the spiritual strength to fulfill my role as a mother wholeheartedly. My husband patiently listened to my concerns. He encouraged me to write out my thoughts and feelings in my journal, which I had been unable to update for a while because of my busy schedule.
One day, while my kids were sleeping, I decided to look through my old journals. As I reviewed them, I was struck by how consistently I had written about my great desire to be a mom when I was a youth and young single adult. One statement in particular touched me: “I will strive to excel in my academic and spiritual learning so I can be an intelligent and noble mom to my kids.”
That enlightenment was what I needed the most! I felt the Spirit testify to me that I had made the right choice for my family. I realized that my education and work experience were not just for my benefit but for my children’s. It was a renewal of my testimony and eternal perspective of motherhood.
I was a stay-at-home mother for five years. Eventually, I completed my graduate program and went back to work when our children were a little older. I am continually learning to balance my limited time in performing my duties at work, home, and church, but I know it all works out with the Lord’s help. I continue to gain valuable experience in the “laboratory of life” and find joy and purpose in motherhood.

Franklin D. Richards reports a day that Joseph and Emma came down from Temple Hill on the muddy slope and their buggy capsized. Neither was badly hurt, but when Joseph came to a meeting that afternoon, he spoke of what Emma meant to him. "The Prophet Joseph remarked in the meeting. . .how he rejoiced in the love of his faithful wife Emma, who had given her hand, her heart and her soul to him in Harmony, Pennsylvania, when first he had been called to the work of the Lord, and had braved all these difficulties with him; and he made this remark, that whatever happened to Emma, he would go, if he had to go to hell, to find her and bring her home, that she might share with him the blessings of his exaltation as she had shared with him his sufferings. He rejoiced greatly in the anticipation of these eternal family relations in the future." (Collected Discourses, Vol.5, Franklin D. Richards, October 5, 1896)

The Lord is always looking out for us, providing opportunities. One of the best personal examples connecting this idea with the concept of starting over involved an experience I had while branch president in Winnipeg. We had an unfortunately high level of inactivity there, with the church having grown only by very small increments over the years in the city. There were only 2 branches when we first arrived, in spite of the church's having been there for many, many years. One of the families in our branch included a mother who attended sporadically, a father who did not attend, and children who came fairly regularly. For a period of time the father eluded me and I still did not have a picture of him. Then we noticed a brother come and sit right near the back door one Sunday. Neither of my counselors knew him and in my mind I decided it was probably Brother McCullough. Still, he managed to slip away right after sacrament meeting before I could get down to him. The next Sunday he was there again, and I determined he was not going to escape this time, and walked down to the exit during the closing hymn. When he went to walk out, I took him by the hand, looked him in the eye and said, "You need to see me." He was stunned. "How did you know?" he said. "You'd be surprised what branch presidents know," was my off hand remark. I steered him into my office and sat him down. "Tell me about yourself" seemed to be a fairly innocuous way of beginning, and I did. To my surprise I discovered he was not the brother I had thought he was. But he did not realize my mistake, and only later did I come to see it was not a mistake, but an inspired act prompted by the Lord. For it turned out that this man was from Texas and had tried to get as far away as possible after his excommunication, which had cost him his family, his livelihood, and of course his membership in the church. He had taken a teaching job in Canada, too embarrassed at his failures to remain in the area where people knew him. He had spent some months in Winnipeg, staying away from church, but gradually felt a pull to return and had decided to do so anonymously. I expect it would have happened eventually one way or another, but because of this moment when I was prompted to take him aside, this man began the steps towards returning to the church and became a stalwart once he was finally cleared to be baptized again. The branch came together around him and took satisfaction in his individual achievement, a source of love and support. He was so grateful to have the opportunity to start over, and he committed never to make the kind of mistakes again that had cost him so much in this life. This had to be one of the most satisfying moments of my church service.

On 24 March 2024, the Notse Branch was organized. Presiding at the creation of the branch was President Kelvar J Lundeen of the Benin Cotonou Mission, assisted by his counselor, Comlan Amegandji. Attending the meeting was the king’s special representative, Togbe Afanwubo III, who helped make the branch creation possible.
Following the organization of the branch, brother Kodjo Pascal Adokou was called and set apart by the mission president as president of the Notsé Branch. The saints in Notsé then witnessed the ordination of their very first Melchizedek Priesthood holders. Brother Thimothée Atchavi was first ordained an elder and was followed by brother Fovi Kedagni. These brothers were then called and set apart as the first and second counselors in the branch presidency. “A new page in the history of the Church in Togo is being written with the creation of this Notse Branch,” noted President Amegandji.
“March is a period full of blessings to me. A baby boy was given to me at the beginning of the month, we got a building for our brothers and sisters in Notsé and now we’ve become a branch! God is always on my side!” exclaimed President Adokou.
Isaac Valentin, a friend of the Church attending the meeting said, “It’s a good thing to know that this Church that I have visited as a young boy in Lome is now available in Notsé. We are not going to stop participating after the branch creation ceremony, but we will keep on coming to the church until we become a full-time member.”
Despite the blazing sun and intense 35°C heat of the day, all participants in the ceremony stayed until the group photo. President Lundeen and his counselor spent time teaching the new presidency how to lead in the Lord’s way. With joy and fellowship, the members, friends, and missionaries departed, leaving with eager hearts to meet again on Sunday for a sacrament meeting with the newly called leaders.

Years ago, while serving as a stake president, I submitted a recommendation for a brother to serve as an ordinance worker in the temple. After explaining what a wonderful ordinance worker he would be, I inadvertently pressed “Do not endorse,” which submitted the recommendation. After unsuccessfully trying to recall the message, I called the temple president and said, “I have made a horrible mistake.” Without hesitation, this good temple president said, “President Eyre, there is nothing that you have done that can’t be forgiven and ultimately corrected.” What a great truth. Indeed, Jesus Christ is “mighty to save.”

As a child, one of my neighbors owned a large orchard, and my summer job was picking pears and peaches. I would ride my bike over there early in the morning and pick all day. One day, I knew by lunchtime that I had picked fewer bushels than usual, and I thought something really bad would happen to me because I was behind. So I hurried home on my bike for lunch, hoping that somehow my parents would make it right. I was in tears on the way. I remember thinking, “Oh, no, what a terrible thing! What’s going to happen?”
But when I arrived home, nobody was there. The whole family was gone to one place or another. I thought the world was going to come to an end! I had nowhere else to turn, so I knelt down to pray. I asked Heavenly Father to somehow save me from whatever was going to happen. Right away I felt a very sweet inner peace. I knew that everything was going to be all right, and that I didn’t have to worry. So I dried my tears, had lunch, and went back to work. And, indeed, the world did not end—everything was all right. That experience taught me that the Lord is willing to hear my prayers. When problems are important to me, He notices. He will help us when we have trials, even if they seem unimportant to other people.

I remember when I first told my previous boss at BYU Broadcasting that I was interested in applying for a job opening I had seen. There was just one little catch. The position wasn’t at BYU Broadcasting. Oh, and by the way, could you also write me a glowing letter recommendation so I can get this new job?

Now if that’s not a potentially uncomfortable conversation, I don’t know what is. I was in a senior management position and was the first and only female to be appointed to the BYU Broadcasting Director’s Council. But, I had also been very honest with my managing director and he knew that as much as I loved the exciting work that we were doing, I just didn’t see myself staying in that same position for the next 20 years.

So I applied for that job opening I had seen. With his glowing letter of recommendation, I might add. And I waited. And then I interviewed. And then I had a second interview. And finally, the phone call came letting me know…that I did not get the position.

It turns out that Heavenly Father had something else in store for me. But I’m proud to say that at least I took the shot. And the next time I applied for a job—which was for the position I now have here at BYU–Hawaii—I made it. And I’m so glad I did.