Gospel Story Finder

Kristin: “The first time I felt totally alone—isolated by the fact that my husband is not a member of the Church—was the day our first baby was blessed. Shortly before the meeting began, the ward clerk handed me a small card to fill out. Most of the questions were routine, but one made my heart leap to my throat: Had my baby been ‘born in [the] covenant’?

“Suddenly all my faith, activity, and service in the Church seemed very inadequate. I had failed, it seemed—failed myself and my innocent child. I have never felt so empty as when I checked the small box that said ‘no.’”

Emily smelled something good coming from the kitchen. I know that smell, she thought. Mom’s making chicken soup. She watched her mom ladle soup from a big, steaming pot into a glass jar. “What are you doing with the soup?” she asked.
“Mrs. Jenkins isn’t feeling well,” Mom replied, putting the jar into a sturdy paper bag with a handle. “I was hoping that you would take it to her.”
“Sure. Your chicken soup always makes me feel better when I’m sick.”
Mrs. Jenkins was their neighbor. She was old and lived alone.
That gave Emily an idea. She raced to her room and hunted for her favorite storybook, “The Three Little Pigs.”
“What’s the book for?” asked Mom.
Emily buckled her sandals. “I thought I’d read it to Mrs. Jenkins while she eats.”
Emily rang Mrs. Jenkins’ doorbell. There was no answer, so Emily rang the doorbell again.
Mrs. Jenkins’ door finally creaked open, and Mrs. Jenkins peeked around the door.
She’s as white as a marshmallow! Emily thought.
“Good afternoon, Emily.” Mrs. Jenkins’ voice was barely above a whisper.
“I brought you some chicken soup that my mother made.” Emily held up the bag. “We hope it makes you feel better.”
“Please come in.”
While Mrs. Jenkins got a bowl from the cupboard, Emily set the soup on the kitchen counter. “I brought a story to read to you while you eat.”
Mrs. Jenkins sipped some of the soup.
“Once upon a time, …” Emily began.
Mrs. Jenkins sipped another spoonful.
“Is the soup good?” Emily asked.
“It’s wonderful.” Mrs. Jenkins smiled. “Now, please read on.”
Emily read. She made huffing and puffing sounds every time the wolf tried to blow one of the pigs’ houses down.
Mrs. Jenkins laughed every time Emily huffed and puffed.
By the time Emily had finished the story, Mrs. Jenkins had finished her soup. Her cheeks were pink, and her eyes sparkled. The chicken soup had sure worked fast!
“Maybe you should have another bowl,” Emily said.
“Only if you read the story again.”
So Mrs. Jenkins had another bowl of soup, and Emily huffed and puffed some more.
“I feel much better,” Mrs. Jenkins said. “Thank you. And thank your mom for me, too.”
“Mom, your chicken soup is amazing!” Emily exclaimed when she went back home. “Mrs. Jenkins already feels better.”
Mom gave Emily a great big hug. “I don’t think it was just the soup.”
The hug felt warm and good. Emily thought about Mrs. Jenkins alone in her big house with no one to share hugs with. “May I read another story to Mrs. Jenkins tomorrow?”
Mom smiled. “I’m sure she’d like that.”
Maybe it isn’t just the chicken soup, Emily decided. Maybe visits and stories are good medicine, too.

Martin was born in the United States. But then his family moved to a country in Europe called the Czech Republic. The people there spoke Czech. Martin knew some of the Czech words his Primary teacher used. He could say ahoj, which meant “hi.” But he mostly spoke English.
Martin loved his school. He had an English teacher and a Czech teacher. There was a big playroom with fun wooden toys.
One day Martin was playing with puppets when a new boy came into the classroom. The English teacher said, “This is Josef. It’s his first day of school. He doesn’t know much English yet.”
Josef had a worried look on his face. Martin thought he must be scared on his first day of school. Maybe Josef couldn’t understand the English teacher.
The teacher led Josef to a table with wooden puzzles on it. Without meaning to, Josef knocked over the whole stack of puzzles. Crash! The puzzle pieces flew everywhere! Josef looked like he might cry.
Martin wanted to tell Josef not to feel bad. It was just an accident. But Martin didn’t know how to tell him in Czech. He stopped playing with his puppets and walked over to the puzzle table. He smiled and started stacking one of the puzzles. He showed Josef how to put it back together. Soon he and Josef finished all the puzzles. They put them back on the table.
For the first time that day, Josef smiled. Martin felt very happy. He had made a new friend without saying a word.

It was a sweltering August day in Kenya as eight-year-old Iniko swiftly pedaled his bike down the dusty path toward the old train depot. He smiled as he reached into the pocket of his shorts to make sure his two shiny shillings were still there. He jingled them joyfully, then placed his hand back on the bike handle. Just enough for a cold soda on a hot day! He’d worked hard on the farm with his father today. He’d definitely earned both the money and the break.
He could almost feel the cold, fizzy bubbles tickling his throat. Do I feel more like grape or strawberry today? he wondered as he leaned forward and pedaled faster, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
Iniko came up over a small hill and down toward the shanty depot just as a little girl walked away from the soda machine, head hanging. She sat on the bench next to the machine and hid her face in her hands. She’s young, Iniko thought. She looked about the same age as his six-year-old sister, Tandie.
Iniko laid his bike on the ground and jogged toward the machine, still thinking about those tickly bubbles going down his throat. As he reached the machine, he heard a sob escape the little girl.
“What’s your name?” Iniko asked. She looked up, trembling with sobs, but said nothing. Iniko wondered what she was doing there all alone. Didn’t she have a big brother or somebody to help her? Perhaps she had come to get a soda as well.
“Did you want to get a drink?” he asked, eyeing the machine anxiously. She reached out a tiny hand and pointed to the bottom of the machine. Iniko got down on his hands and knees and looked underneath. Sure enough, two shiny shillings had fallen underneath the soda machine, beyond reach. Iniko’s arm was too big to reach under, and an attempt to retrieve the coins with a slender branch proved unsuccessful as well.
Iniko turned and looked at the girl again. Her eyes were hopeful, and the tears were just starting to dry on her round, rosy cheeks. She surely reminded him of Tandie.
“I can’t get it,” he said. Crestfallen, she scooted herself off the bench and began to walk away.
Iniko tried his best to turn his back on the little girl and forget about her. Just put the money in the machine and enjoy your hard-earned treat, he told himself. You’re not responsible for her. You don’t even know her. But it was no use. The words of his Primary teacher just last Sunday echoed inside his head: “We must have charity to be like Jesus Christ. Jesus tells us in the scriptures that serving others is the best way to show Him that we love Him.” Iniko loved Him. And he knew what he must do.
“Wait!” he shouted and ran after the little girl. He took her hand, and pressed the two shiny shillings into it. “They’re for you.”
The little girl smiled, revealing a missing tooth on her bottom jaw.
She sure is cute, Iniko thought. That was worth it just for the smile.
The little girl ran toward the soda machine and, having purchased her prize, skipped away down the path.
Iniko was still thirsty as he mounted his bike and began pedaling slowly up the hill. But somehow, the soda didn’t seem to matter so much anymore. He thought of Tandie and smiled as he rolled along the dusty road toward home.

President Baudin describes his second voyage to Taenga as one of the most unforgettable experiences of his mission. President Temanu had come to get him, and soon after they left Makemo, stormy weather set in, with the wind and waves buffeting the boat through the waters and altering its course. “Imagine my concern,” relates President Baudin, “when after six hours there was still no land in sight.
“Suddenly, President Temanu stood and pointed with his finger and calmly stated that the island was in that direction. Almost immediately, the wind died and the sea became calm, and as if they had come to greet us and guide us to the pass in the reef, dozens of dolphins appeared, leaping out of the water in front of the boat. As if this weren’t impressive enough, we also saw a whale some thirty meters to the side, spouting water and unhurriedly keeping pace with our forward movement.”

For a class project, we had to choose a famous person and read a book about him or her. I chose Joseph Smith. I prepared and memorized a short speech telling about him and why he was famous. One day, all the parents were invited to see our presentations. Not many people at my school know about the Prophet Joseph Smith or The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. That day many people thanked me and told me they learned a lot.
Benson S., age 8, Michigan, USA

Basketball season for the Academia Juarez varsity girls began just like any other season: a winning season was their goal. The Church-owned school in Colonia Juárez, Chihuahua, Mexico, is unique in that the majority of the sports programs require the players to travel internationally to play their games. Another interesting fact is that the entire 2010–11 varsity girls’ team, the Lobas, are all active Latter-day Saint young women. They stand out because they are just as united off the court as they are on the court.
And they did have a successful season, winning the majority of their games and taking first place in two tournaments. To end their season, they decided to go to the temple together as a team and do baptisms for the dead. Their coach, Bishop Russell Robinson, made the arrangements. He says, “Never have I seen a group of girls who love each other and love the Lord like these girls do.”
As Colonia Juárez Chihuahua Mexico Temple president Robert Whetten met them at the doors of the temple, he said, “I don’t know of anywhere in the world where a competitive sports team makes coming to the temple a priority to cap off their season. This truly is a great group of young women.”

When we arrived at our missionary apartment that evening, my companion went in before me and slammed the door. I parked our bikes and went in after him. Our voices became loud and harsh as we argued about the events of the day. He, an American, claimed that we didn’t get along because I, a Filipino, was prejudiced against him. That wasn’t true, and his saying it only made me angrier. He stormed into the kitchen. I went into the other room. Silence reigned after that, but the fire of our anger still raged.
I sat in one corner of the room, crouched like a child, wanting to cry or shout—I wasn’t sure which. I felt empty and afraid, as if I were driving on a dark, winding road without headlights. Everything we had done that day—teaching discussions, playing with children, talking with investigators—seemed like a charade. When we had taught a discussion about living a Christlike life, I felt tormented inside: How could my companion and I teach about Christlike love when we had built a wall of hostility between us?
In the darkness of the room, I remembered the words of my stake president when he set me apart as a full-time missionary. He had said that I would have many trials on my mission and that some would appear insurmountable. He also spoke of two “Goliaths” that I would have to face—weaknesses in myself and problems with my companion. He then promised, “The power within you is greater than the obstacles in front of you.”
However, I didn’t feel ready to face my Goliaths; I wished instead for a transfer. I had thought companionship problems would be easy to resolve, but this was more like sailing in a raging tempest. I knew I needed to turn to my Heavenly Father for help, so I knelt to pray. I struggled because I did not feel worthy to talk to him. I couldn’t do anything but cry.
I sat in silence until, through my tears, I noticed the scriptures on the ironing board. I opened them and looked through them until I came to this verse: “First, be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift” (Matt. 5:24). I knew this was the answer that I had been seeking. I felt the still, small voice tell me to make reconciliation with my companion. I also knew that Heavenly Father would help remove the wall of hatred between my companion and me.
With this assurance, I went to talk to my companion. I was surprised when he broke the silence first: “It was my fault, Elder. I’m sorry.”
I grabbed my chair and sat beside him. “No, no, no,” I insisted. “It wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry, too, because I wasn’t able to hold my temper.”
He smiled and said, “Do you know that Satan wants to destroy our friendship and to stop this sacred work? And do you know that it is past our bedtime?” He laughed, then gave me a big hug.
After that, we knelt down together in prayer and felt the Spirit of the Lord heal our friendship.
I hardly slept that night, for joy. I was surprised to see the darkness fade as sunlight crept into our room. I opened the window so the light could enter freely. From where I stood, I could see the silhouettes of the coconut trees, the nipa huts, and the mountains. At that moment, I felt a desire to share the light of the gospel with the entire world.

“Three. Two. One. Blastoff!” Kimber Gabryszak was thrust back into her seat as the space shuttle simulator took off. As mission specialist on this flight, she later “repaired” the Hubble telescope.
The space camp in Huntsville, Alabama, sponsored by the National Aeronautics and Space Administration, is for students in the seventh through ninth grades. The camp is a long way from Kimber’s home on the banks of the Yentna River in Alaska. Kimber, 14, lives in a two-story wooden lodge, the Yentna River Station, built by her father and mother. The lodge is only 70 air miles from Anchorage, but there are no roads to be found here—only trees, water, moose, and bear. Visitors come by boat, plane, or snow machine—depending on the season and the height of the river. That’s why the Gabryszaks don’t leave their bush paradise very often. Kimber, who has lived here since she was 15 months old, manages to get to Willow, the closest “town,” about every two months. She visits with friends and goes to the movies.
So why and how did Kimber get in a space simulator? Kimber wants to be an astronaut. The oldest of six children, she is mostly self-taught through the state’s home-study curriculum. When the chance to go to space camp came, she worked hard, saving money and soliciting sponsors. “I needed to see if I really want to be an astronaut,” she says. “I love science. I want to work on a space station.” One of her prized possessions is the light blue space uniform she brought back from camp.
In Alaska, Kimber’s typical day starts at 7:30 A.M., with the family’s animals. “If they don’t eat, we don’t eat,” she says. So the 17 chickens, ten chicks, two cats, four dogs, goldfish, guinea pig, and goat are tended to. After breakfast, there is firewood to split, snow to shovel, the lodge to clean, and younger children to look after. When Kimber begins home-study seminary, her day will begin 90 minutes earlier.
At night, the Gabryszaks have prayer and scripture reading. They just finished the Book of Mormon and have started it again. On Sundays, the family gathers for a meeting where they sing hymns, accompanied by Kimber on the recorder. She’ll read and study her own lesson, and then help her two younger sisters and brother with Primary lessons.
One of the highlights of her summer is going to girls’ camp with members of the Wasilla Stake. “Sometimes it’s hard not to be part of a class,” she adds. “I went to seminary in town one morning. It was neat. Everyone was friends and they were doing neat things with the scriptures. Here, there’s no one my age to do that with.”
For now, Kimber is content to write to friends she’s met along the way. She has pen pals as far away as the British Isles, and writes regularly to a Jewish boy she met at space camp. He’s interested in the Young Men and Young Women programs, and often asks questions about the Church in his letters. Kimber also sent a Book of Mormon to another friend in Wyoming.
Life is good for Kimber. She is surrounded by a family she loves and by the great Alaskan outdoors. Although college, a mission, and temple marriage—and her dream of becoming an astronaut—may eventually pull her away, at the Yentna River Station, Kimber has already learned the most important thing of all: “I love Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father. They take care of me.”

Through obedience we build spiritual strength that sustains us during times of adversity. My friend and counselor Joy F. Evans tells of such a time in her life. She had four young children and was expecting her fifth child. The much-anticipated day of birth arrived—about six weeks early. They had expected to have “a” baby, but they had twins instead—Michael and Amy, premature and very small.

They had already lost one child earlier, and Joy, being a nurse, felt certain those babies were also going to die. She was even afraid that her own lack of faith would contribute to their dying, and she wanted desperately for them to live!

In her words, “I think it was the first time I couldn’t say ‘Thy will be done.’ I just couldn’t say it.”

When her husband went home the second day after the babies’ birth, he prayed, not for the babies, but for his wife, their mother. Then a sweet assurance came to her that everything was all right: whatever happened was the Lord’s will. The babies did die, one after two days, and the other after three; but Joy still had her feeling of peace. She could draw from the wonderful reservoir of strength she had developed by keeping the commandments through the years.

Having the babies dressed appropriately for burial was very important to their mother, but they were so tiny that clothes could not be found small enough to fit them. When the Relief Society president came after the second baby died, she sensed Joy’s disappointment in not being able to dress the babies as she would like. The president went home and sewed busily that night. When she came back the next morning, the day of the graveside service, she had a darling little white suit for Michael and a dainty little white dress for Amy.

Peace can come to both the giver and the receiver as we follow the promptings of the Spirit to serve one another.

I’d thought getting made fun of in JROTC for being a Mormon was hard, but that was child’s play compared to basic training. The temptation to swear was always present. Three or four times a day, day after day, the drill sergeant would get in my face and swear at me. And my fellow cadets would try to get me to swear. Then, half of the cadets at basic training ended up attending the same military school I did. It wasn’t long before the other members of my ROTC group also found out I was a Mormon and started making fun of me and trying to get me to swear. I wasn’t sure if I could keep this up for another 10 months. Basic training had been rough enough.
To my surprise, help came. My fellow basic training buddies from JROTC stepped up and defended my beliefs. They told the others, “Stop bothering him. Give up. Trust us, he won’t budge. We tried.”
After a while, people stopped making fun of me and started to support me. They even supported me in my decision to serve a mission, even though some of our instructors didn’t. My greatest opposition and tempters became some of my closest and greatest allies. I’m grateful that I stood up for my beliefs. I often wonder what would have happened if I had not chosen to keep the standards and commandments of God.

As a boy, Lorenzo loved to read. He later became a teacher and a community builder. He was chosen by President Brigham Young to lead fifty families to an area later known as Brigham City, Utah. His work was interrupted when he was called on a mission to the Hawaiian Islands.
After the ship’s arrival there, Lorenzo and his companions were going ashore in a smaller boat when suddenly their tiny craft capsized and washed them overboard. Lorenzo’s lifeless body was found and he was administered to. Lorenzo miraculously recovered from this terrifying experience, for the Lord had other important work for him to accomplish.

Something for the Teacher
All of us have dreams—things we’d like to do—but how often do you hear about people helping each other achieve their own individual dreams? That’s why the actions of the Laurel class of the Smithfield (Utah) Ward are so heartwarming. Said their teacher, Patricia Cannell: “Ever since I was a child I have loved to draw and paint. Now that I’m married, we have no room for my hobby in the house. Sometime during the MIA year when we were sharing dreams, I mentioned my desire to buy an old train caboose and make it into an art studio.”
That’s when the girls took over. A caboose was found. The cost to move it was $106. Unbeknown to the teacher, the girls sold window-cleaning fluid door-to-door at 35¢ a pint. At a recent birthday party for the teacher, guess what she received as a present from her Laurels?
A caboose.

A week after graduating high school, I moved to the other side of the country to live with my older sister’s family for the summer before I started college in the fall.
I made a few friends, most of them older and in college. One Saturday night two of my new friends picked me up to go hear a good band that was playing at a local club.
As we parked, I started feeling a little nervous, but I didn’t want to object and ruin the evening. We entered the club, and the man behind the counter looked at my driver’s license. Without warning he swiped a black permanent marker across the knuckles on both of my hands.
I looked down in surprise. I realized he had marked my hands to show that I was too young to buy alcohol at the bar.
I was immediately uncomfortable. People were drinking and smoking.
I’m sorry to say that I didn’t have the courage to leave right then. After about 30 minutes, one of my friends asked if I was feeling OK. I told him I had a headache from the music and smoke. He offered to take me home, and I gratefully accepted.
I rushed into the bathroom at my sister’s house and scrubbed at those black marks until it hurt. I would be taking the sacrament with these hands the next day, and I desperately wanted them to be clean. However, two faint black lines remained visible on my raw, pink skin.
Before I went to bed, in prayer I asked forgiveness for not having the courage to leave—and more appropriately, for not having the courage to never go inside in the first place. I promised Heavenly Father I would never allow myself to get in that kind of situation again.
The next morning I was able to remove most of the rest of the marker, and my hands were almost completely clean when I took the sacrament. I thought of how sin is like those black marks. It takes effort and can even be painful, but we can repent and have our sins removed through the power of the Atonement and be clean from the black marks in our lives.

After earning his law degree, he applied for a job at a law firm and was invited to lunch by some of the partners at the firm. The senior partner asked him if he would like an alcoholic drink before lunch and later asked him if he would like wine. Elder Cook declined both times, telling him the second time that he was a Latter-day Saint. This incident was more important than Elder Cook thought at the time. He has said:
“I received an offer of employment from the firm. A few months later, the senior partner told me the offer of the alcoholic beverages was a test. He noted that my résumé made it clear that I had served an LDS mission. He had determined that he would hire me only if I was true to the teachings of my own church. He considered it a significant matter of character and integrity.”3

“Brueder Missionare, warten Sie einen Moment!” cried Sister Schmiedl, hurrying out of the apartment house door into the cold January air. My companion and I dismounted our bikes and turned to her. “I’m glad I saw you. Sister Jonas is sick; they’ve taken her to the hospital.”
“When did this happen? What’s the matter with her?”
“Yesterday afternoon … something to do with the liver. Brother Wist said they don’t expect her to last the week at her age.”
“Terrible!”
“Ja! She wants very much to see you, and she asked to be administered to.” Sister Schmiedl had that desperate but firm Austrian look that told us we had better get over to the hospital as soon as possible.
We pedaled our way in silence through the snow-clogged streets toward our apartment. Elder Rogers and I weren’t regular companions. His companion was the district leader. My companion, Elder Smith, and the district leader had gone to Linz to work for the day. We often traded so we could get different ideas on how to approach people about the gospel and to gain experience working with various elders. That particular day didn’t seem much improved by the absence of our senior companions. You see, Elder Rogers and I were both junior companions with very little experience. Between the two of us, we had a total of six weeks in the field.
Warming our stiff hands over the coal stove in the landlady’s kitchen, we wondered what we were going to do. Or more precisely, how.
“Have you ever given a blessing to the sick?”
“No, Elder Rogers, I haven’t. Not even in English.”
“Well, comp., this could be tricky. Neither have I.”
We knew stalling wouldn’t do any good. Even if Sister Jonas’s condition hadn’t been so urgent, delaying until morning wouldn’t guarantee Elder Smith’s getting back to perform the ordinance. The wind was whipping the dusty snow into a regular gale outside, and trains all over central Europe were being halted. Winter 1970 was to become one of the worst winters in the history of the continent, and that’s a lot of history.
We decided not to take the bikes, preferring a long walk to a slide that might take us to the hospital rather than visitors. As we went, our breath came out in big puffs of white vapor that froze to the fibers of our scarves and collars and gave our eyebrows and noses a Frosty-the-Snowman appearance. Fortunately, the hospital was not too far away, and Wels is a small town in any case. The nun at the desk looked doubtfully at us when we introduced ourselves as ministers of the Church of Jesus Christ, but our identification papers convinced her, and we proceeded down the corridor, even though there were no visiting hours on Tuesday.
Sterbezimmer 319 is a room where patients with only a few hours or days to live are kept isolated from others. It was a reasonably pleasant room, despite its awful function, and the white lace curtains gave a feeling of hope, even when hope was long gone. Sister Jonas lay in a bed by the window; from there she could watch the storm’s progress. Outside the wind was still playing ball with the fallen snow, but it seemed a few rays of sunlight were trying to find a way through the clouds. As we entered, Sister Jonas looked and smiled.
A nurse was there. “Don’t be long,” she said and then left, assuming we had come to give the last rites.
“I’m glad you came,” whispered Sister Jonas.
“Don’t be afraid. Do you believe you can be healed?”
“Yes, now I do.”
Elder Rogers produced a vial of pale yellow oil, and, in a quavering voice, anointed her. Now it was my turn. I paused. How did they tell us to pronounce a blessing at the Language Training Mission? An instant’s hesitation, and, “Otilie Jonas, Im namen Jesu Christi … ”
My time in Wels was almost gone, and I expected to be transferred to another town in a few days. Elder Smith had long since been sent to Vienna, and Elder Rogers had followed him. I looked out on our little congregation in sacrament meeting and had difficulty holding back the tears. The hardy souls in these small and sometimes obscure branches mean a lot to the missionaries who labor there. When I left home to come to Austria, I knew I’d soon return, but I knew when I left Wels I would probably never see these people again.
It had been a long winter, and even in the spring it was still a bit chilly. Others felt it too, and in the back, a sister got up and stoked the little potbellied stove. It was Sister Jonas. When she finished, she returned to her chair, and I got up to walk to the pulpit—what could I tell these people?
I told them about Sister Jonas. I told them how much it had meant to us to be there when she needed a blessing, though we had been so inexperienced. I told them how the Lord had helped us when we didn’t know what to do. And I told them that if they would trust in Him, He would help them too.
Afterward, Sister Jonas came up to me with tears in her eyes. “That blessing saved my life,” she said. “I know the Lord healed me.”

Their journey to the gospel began during a work trip to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, where they were introduced to and joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. At the time, there was no Church branch in their hometown of Debra Zeit, and attending church required a 47-kilometer weekly journey to Addis Ababa. Despite the difficulty, the family made the effort to travel every week. Eventually, they were able to worship closer to home, gathering with other members in the house of President Ayele Asfaw Kelkaye, a fellow Latter-day Saint. The early years of their conversion were marked by this dedication to the gospel, but the path was not always easy.
For eight years, the Waji family rarely attended church, facing spiritual and personal challenges. It was during this time that Elder and Sister Moyer, senior missionaries, visited their home. That visit marked a turning point in their lives. Ada Worq, one of Waji and Emebet’s daughters, recalls the significance of that moment: “I will never forget what they said when they visited us. They asked, ‘What can we do for you?’ and then spoke to us about Christ’s love and faith. Everyone was crying, touched by the Spirit.”
This visit ignited a renewal of faith within the family. They recommitted to the gospel and returned to full activity in the Church. However, their path to the temple remained challenging. For Waji and Zenbech, being sealed in the temple for time and all eternity became a cherished goal, but their journey was met with multiple setbacks. Their planned trips to the temple failed three times. Despite their best efforts, unforeseen obstacles prevented them from making the journey. But through faith and divine intervention, their trip was finally made possible. With the support of the mission leaders, President Oliva Cowley and Sister Rebecca Cowley, they made their way to the Accra Ghana Temple.
On June 17, 2024, after 25 years of membership and waiting, Waji and Zenbech entered the temple and were sealed together. The day marked was filled with deep spiritual meaning. Mekonnen, their eldest son, reflected on the experience: “I saw how much the people have been blessed because of having the temple in their country.”
Waji, moved by the power of the temple, said, “The temple is like a compass—it directs us to the way of eternal life. It is my prayer that there will be a temple in Ethiopia one day.”
Sister Zenbech shared her profound feelings from their temple experience, saying, “I felt the love of Heavenly Father and the love of the people while I was in the temple.”
For both Waji and Zenbech, being sealed in the temple was not only the culmination of years of faith and sacrifice but also the fulfilment of a promise they had longed for.
Following their sealing, the family continued to grow spiritually. Their renewed dedication led them to serve in various callings in the Church, building their testimonies and further strengthening their faith. Their daughter Bemnet, inspired by her family’s experience and her own faith, began preparing to serve a mission, contributing to the ongoing legacy of commitment and service within the Waji family.
The Waji family’s journey serves as a powerful reminder that faith, patience, and perseverance in the gospel yield great blessings. Though Waji and Zenbech faced numerous obstacles, their dream of being sealed in the temple became a reality, demonstrating the power of the Lord’s timing. Their story offers hope to all those striving for the blessings of the temple, showing that through faith, anything is possible.

One day my mom asked me to go with her to the bishops’ storehouse. I didn’t want to go, but then I remembered a story I read in the November 2010 Friend called “Super-Fast Service.” In the story, Truman helped his mom gather food for a family in need. I also remembered that the Savior helped people who were hungry, feeding them from two fishes and five loaves of bread. I realized I should go, so I went and I enjoyed it a lot! When I got home, I felt very happy inside. This good feeling was the Spirit telling me I had made a good choice.

It all started when Jess decided he didn’t have time to change clothes. He was in a hurry to get out to the playground where his friends were waiting. So he put on his playclothes right over his school clothes and went outside to play.
Now that wasn’t too bad, but the next morning …
“Remember to put on a clean undershirt,” Mother said when she woke Jess up.
“Yes, Mother,” Jess answered. And that is what he did. He put it on, but he didn’t take the old one off.
Jess smiled in the mirror. “That’s very smart of you,” he said to his reflection.
“Just think of the time you’re saving. Soon they’ll be calling you Jiffy Jess!”
And then he got another idea. “I can save even more time if I just put my clothes on over my pajamas.” He smiled proudly at his reflection. “Then at night I’ll only have to take off my clothes and hop into bed.”
And that’s what he did. His school clothes went on right over his two undershirts and his pajamas. It was quite warm, but if it would save time, it was worth it, Jess decided.
That afternoon he ran home and hurried to get ready to go outside to play. He pulled on his old shirt and pants over his school clothes, his play socks over his school socks, and then his shoes. It was a tight fit, but he made it.
As he went out the door, Mother stopped him. “Are you all right?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” Jess answered.
Mother took a step backwards and looked very carefully at Jess. She looked up to his head and down to his feet and then she shook her head.
“You seem to be putting on weight,” she said. “Gaining that much weight so fast isn’t good. Are you sure you’re all right?”
Jess was laughing inside, but he didn’t let Mother know. Somehow he knew she wouldn’t approve of what he was doing.
“I’m fine, Mother,” he said, trying not to smile. “May I go out now?”
“I guess so, but I’m worried about you.” Mother seemed bewildered.
“Don’t worry,” Jess shouted over his shoulder as he went out the door. “I’m just fine.”
He tried to run out to the baseball field where his friends were waiting, but with all those clothes on he could barely trot.
“It’s about time you got here,” Jonathan said, hitting his fist in his baseball mitt. “You’ve been holding up the game.”
“Throw me the catcher’s mitt and let’s play ball!” Jess shouted.
Jess got behind the batter and tried to squat, but his knees wouldn’t bend.
“Come on! Come on!” Jonathan shouted from the pitcher’s mound. “Let’s get going!”
Once more Jess tried to bend over, but it hurt! His knees felt as if they were wrapped in giant bandages, and he could barely breathe. He stood up straight, took a deep breath, and again tried to squat down. But with pajamas, two pairs of pants, two undershirts, two shirts, and two pairs of socks, he could barely even bend. He looked around to see if anyone had noticed. They had. Eight pairs of glaring eyes were moving in on him from the field.
“What’s wrong with you?” David asked in amazement.
“Well … well … ah …” Jess stammered, trying to figure out how to explain. He knew everyone would laugh at him. He could feel his face growing red with embarrassment.
“Here, Joel,” Jess finally said as he threw the mitt. “You catch. I’ll be right back.”
Jess trotted as fast as possible to the house. He took off all his clothes. Then he put his playclothes on again and started out the door.
“I thought you had gone,” Mother said without looking up.
“I forgot something,” Jess said.
“Oh,” Mother smiled at Jess. Then her eyebrows knitted in wonder and she shook her head.
“My, oh my,” she said. “You seem to have lost at least ten pounds! Are you sure you feel all right?”
“I feel better than I’ve felt all day!” Jess said as he ran back out to the playground to play ball.

Two days later, Stephanie and Serena meet at the train station in Amsterdam. Three American sisters, Michelle, Amanda, and Jackie Miller of the Hilversum Branch, are with them. They can’t get together very often, so they’re happy when they get the chance. It’s 6:00 P.M. as they walk out of Central Station. They’re all hungry, they decide on pizza, then they look for a restaurant. As the group walks the streets of Amsterdam with the rain coming down, they’re laughing and telling stories. But nobody is sure where the closest restaurant is. For a moment they stop. Then a voice calls out, “I know where we can go.”

Stephanie then speeds her pace and leads the way.