Gospel Story Finder

Many years ago it was my privilege to provide a blessing to a beautiful 12-year-old young lady, Jami Palmer. She had just been diagnosed with cancer. She learned that her leg where the cancer was would require multiple surgeries. A long-planned hike with her Young Women class up a rugged trail was out of the question, she thought.

Jami told her friends they would have to hike without her. I’m confident there was disappointment in her heart.

But then the other young women responded emphatically, “No, Jami, you are going with us!”

“But I can’t walk,” came the reply.

“Then we’ll carry you to the top!” And they did.

None of those precious young women will ever forget that memorable day when a loving Heavenly Father looked down with a smile of approval and was well pleased.

Let’s hurry along to Redwood Road. There is a much larger home here where many widows reside. Most are seated in the well-lighted living room. But in her bedroom, alone, is one on whom I must call. She hasn’t spoken a word since a devastating stroke some years ago. But then, who knows what she hears?—so I speak of good times together. There isn’t a flicker of recognition, not a word spoken. In fact, an attendant asks if I am aware that this patient hasn’t uttered a word for years. It made no difference. Not only had I enjoyed my one-sided conversation with her—I had communed with God.

Under the direction of Bishop Stephen Gregory and ward JustServe specialist, Brother Anson Bentley, the members of the Bridlington Ward in the York Stake, have all worked together in setting up a soup kitchen for the homeless at the chapel. The soup kitchen runs every Thursday evening. Bishop Gregory said, “It’s been quite an experience really, we have got the attention of local councillors who come and help us, we have members who have not been active for many years, who have decided that would like to come and help at the soup kitchen and they haven’t been near the building in years. Because of the current COVID-19 restrictions we have had to turn offers of help away and limit it to five volunteers each week, otherwise we would have the chapel full of people wanting to help.”
Brother Bentley said, “We have had pretty much the whole of the ward’s active membership participate in the soup kitchen in one way or another. Thanks to the Bridlington Ward membership, the soup kitchen has been very well supported.”
Brother Joshua Dixon-Harrison, assistant to Brother Bentley, has been key in getting members organised, communicating to many other volunteer organisations, making lots of phone calls and reminding everyone what’s happening each week. Joshua was himself homeless for a time and so knows firsthand the needs of someone who is homeless. Joshua has also been encouraging the ward members to register with JustServe, and to regularly check what are the service opportunities, and get involved in them. Joshua said, “The idea of JustServe is to work with others in our community and to serve our local community.”
The ward has had tremendous support from Bridlington town councillor Andy Walker, who was really excited about the service being offered by ward members. He comes to the soup kitchen most Thursdays to help and has promoted the project in council meetings, helped put ward members in contact with other organisations in the area, and has become a good friend to Brother Bentley. Most of the members of Bridlington Ward have been able to meet and get to know Councillor Walker and to become friends with him.
The Kingfisher Cafe, a local group which looks after the homeless in Bridlington, has been a great help in getting the word out to those in need, and has also mentioned JustServe and the Church on its Facebook page, which has resulted in a lot of positive feedback. Other nonprofit organisations, Emmaus Hull & East Riding, and East Riding Voluntary Action Services have also helped get the word out about the soup kitchen. These friendships and connections have enabled ward members to offer their services to the community as a resource for future service projects.
The soup is usually made by members. When I visited, Brother David Richmond had made the most delicious butternut-squash soup that I have ever tasted. The Community Cookery School in conjunction with The Haven in Bridlington have also provided excellent soup on several occasions.
Bishop Gregory said: “At the end of 2019 I gave a talk and spoke about the lawyer who tried to trick the Saviour, asking which was the greatest of all the commandments. The Saviour replied, ‘Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind.
“‘This is the first and greatest commandment.
“‘And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.’ (Matthew 22:37–39).

“These words have sunk deep into my heart, and this is the reason I decided to support and push and cajole people into the JustServe programme, and I think this is why it has been a success, because people have captured the vision.”
The soup kitchen is simply a place for vulnerable people to come and have a hot cup of soup and chat with people who want to support them and make friends.

Many years later, in 2000, the Adelaide Australia Temple was dedicated, and every month, Bill and Betty would travel four hours from Whyalla to serve and worship there. Then in 2003, they drew a circle of a 30-minute radius to the temple and were blessed to find a home which was only a ten-minute drive away. They began working two days a week at that temple and did so for 10 years, until Bill became ill.
Betty returned to regular temple visits after Bill passed away in 2015 and now, at age 91, she says, “I hope to be doing that until the day I die”.

Two missionaries asked a new family to kneel in prayer, and the senior companion, not knowing why, asked the husband to move over by his wife and take her hand. He hesitated, and the missionary simply said, “That’s what my mom and dad do at home. Please take your wife by the hand.”

After they were baptized, the husband and wife tearfully confessed that they were on the verge of divorce when they met the missionaries. The husband had already moved out of the home. He was just there to visit the children when the missionaries appeared. The husband said that as his hand touched his wife’s, a healing spirit came over them. Love replaced the wounds and the misunderstandings; they forgave each other, and the husband came home.

Two of the blessings that a senior priesthood companion can give are trust and an example of caring. I saw that when my son was given a home teaching companion who had vastly more priesthood experience than he did. His senior companion had been a mission president twice and had served in other leadership positions.

Before they were to visit one of their assigned families, that seasoned priesthood leader asked to visit my son in our home beforehand. They allowed me to listen. The senior companion opened with prayer, asking for help. Then he said something like this to my son: “I think we should teach a lesson that will sound to this family like a call to repentance. I think they won’t take it very well from me. I think they would take the message better from you. How do you feel about that?”

I remember the terror in my son’s eyes. I can still feel the happiness of that moment when my son accepted the trust.

It was not by accident that the bishop put that companionship together. It was by careful preparation that the senior companion had learned about the feelings of that family they were about to teach. It was by inspiration that he felt to step back, to trust an inexperienced youth to call older children of God to repentance and to safety.

I don’t know the outcome of their visit, but I do know that a bishop, a Melchizedek Priesthood holder, and the Lord were preparing a boy to be a priesthood man and someday a bishop.

This is not your basic story of a super-achieving LDS family where everyone gets straight A pluses, wins international symphony competitions, trains for the Olympics, and trudges ten miles through the snow to get to seminary every morning. No. This is the story of a family that simply steps up to the plate and swings, regardless of the challenges they face.
Challenges don’t intimidate the Drummonds. They never have. When Heather decided she wanted to go out for baseball, she didn’t think twice about the fact that there are no girls’ teams in her area. Today the petite 15-year-old with long dark hair and bangs is the only girl playing on boys’ teams in her league, and she’s doing pretty well.
Then there’s tall, thin, 17-year-old Christopher. He didn’t let the fact that millions of boys all over the country dream of being a batboy for a professional baseball team stop him. He went right up to the personnel office of the California Angels, applied, and landed the position. It wasn’t half as difficult as he thought it would be.
Heather and Christopher take their cue from their father, Tom Drummond, who, when he got custody of his two children over 12 years ago, decided he would be the best parent he could be, with or without the support of a wife. And later, when he was introduced to the Church, he decided to take on the challenges and blessings of membership and hopefully share them with his children.
Heather was the first one to follow his lead. “I took the discussions and started going to church with my dad,” she said. “I knew some of the girls at church who played on my soccer team, and they were really nice. Everybody seemed really nice there, and joining the Church just seemed like the right thing to do.”
Christopher took a little longer. “A couple of sets of missionaries taught me, and I just didn’t know about it. But then one came along who helped me see everything was right in the Church. He talked baseball, and he showed me things in the scriptures too, and I knew. Then my dad baptized me.”
By now, it would be impossible not to note that sports, baseball in particular, play a big part in the Drummonds’ lives. Heather and Christopher have both been playing since they were about three years old, and since they live in southern California, they’re able to play in leagues all year round. Tom, a self-employed architect, makes it to almost every single game.
Baseball has formed a strong bond in their lives, even though Christopher takes some flak because his sister is the only girl playing on a boys’ team in their league—“You better watch out, Christopher. Your little sister’s gonna take your place!” And Heather says she doesn’t see a lot of her brother because he’s usually either working at Anaheim stadium or playing ball. Baseball is still a common interest that ties the family together, when they could be going in some very different directions.
When the gospel came into their lives about four years ago, it brought an even stronger bond. There’s a lot more to share now than box scores and batting averages. They share prayer, church meetings, scriptures, and a concept of the eternal unit their family is. “We have family home evening,” says Christopher. “I really like that. We talk or read or play games. Sometimes we go out to dinner or a movie or over to another family’s house. That’s a really good thing.”
The Drummonds are not the most outspoken kids in the world. They’re doers rather than talkers. But they will open up if you ask. Heather, for example, will tell you that she doesn’t feel short-changed by not growing up with a mother. “I’ve lived with guys all my life, so I do the things they do,” she says. “But I also do girl things. My best friends are girls. I don’t think growing up only with guys has hurt me.” Heather has her own ways of asserting her femininity. In the dugout, for example, even though she tucks her long brown hair up under her cap and wears a bulky uniform like the rest of the players, you can’t miss her because she’s the one wearing pink lipstick. And sometimes, when the other players lose their tempers and start swearing, they’re quickly reminded that a girl is present when Heather tells them, “Hey—watch your language!” And, she says, “They usually apologize.”
“Some of the guys I play with are kind of mean,” says Heather. “They say the only reason I’m on the team is because the coach doesn’t know how to cut a girl. I have to play extra hard to overcome that. I’ve been tempted to quit, but when I am, I just tell myself I have to stick in there, because everyone would think I can’t handle it. I can handle it,” she says with conviction, and you don’t doubt her.
When prodded, Christopher will tell you some of his deeper feelings, too. Things like his biggest fear about serving a mission is not that it will break up his baseball career, but that he will never know enough about the gospel to teach it to other people. “Missionaries know so much,” he says. He seems relieved to learn that the Spirit blesses missionaries with special knowledge as they strive to learn and grow.
Surprisingly enough, he’ll also tell you that working with some of the greatest baseball players in the world, and even, on occasion, getting to travel with the team, is not as big a deal as some people would think. “Oh, the players are really nice and everything—especially Wally Joyner—he’s Mormon too. But it’s just a basic, normal job. I’m paid by the hour, minimum wage. The food is good though. We get to eat with the players, and the Angels have one of the best chefs in professional baseball.” Still, Christopher says he likes the ballpark hotdogs about the best.
As involved as the Drummonds are in sports, you might think their grades would suffer a bit. But not so. “They’re both on the honor roll,” says their dad. “They have to maintain B averages. That’s my rule. And no underwater basketweaving or sandwich making courses, either.” He then goes on to recite their schedules—solid, difficult classes every one, with the exception of baseball, which the Drummonds take very seriously. Of course, since Tom made the rules, he’s always there to help his kids accomplish them. It’s not uncommon to find the family studying together in the evenings.
The Drummonds just seem to look right through challenges. They’re not afraid to take on demanding classes, to be the only girl on local baseball teams, to work with professional baseball players, or to join a church that outlines a brand-new lifestyle. Quietly, solidly, without a lot of fanfare or hype, they step up to the plate and take their swings at the good pitches that come their way.

I was really touched by the story “Please Bless Kathy” in the November 1989 issue. I had the same experience with a very good friend of mine who really hurt me. After a year of just wallowing in hate, I decided to pray about her, and though it was hard, my feelings towards her changed. I discovered that, instead of being angry towards her, I felt more sorrow, for she didn’t have the religion I have to rely upon. I also hoped that maybe I could give that to her. Thanks.
Melissa BurfordEugene, Oregon

Josh McCauley watched as rainwater splashed into the pots and pans his parents had set around the living and dining rooms.
“Overflow in here!” Mom called. She looked tired. At eight months pregnant, she moved slowly, her face pinched with worry and strain.
Dad appeared with an empty pot and carried away the full one. Returning, he led his wife to a chair, gently pushed her down, and began to rub her shoulders. “You can’t keep this up,” he said. “Josh, get your mom a drink.”
Josh ran out and came back with a glass of water.
Mom accepted it with a tired smile. “Thanks.”
Josh and Sam, his older brother, helped out, emptying the smaller pans. But they couldn’t keep up with the rain that poured in.
Early yesterday morning, Dad had hired a man to help replace a portion of the roof. The man had persuaded them to take off the old shingles, promising that he and Dad could replace them within a day.
Josh knew that his parents weren’t sure about repairing the roof then, but the storm season was approaching. They had bought the old house, knowing that it was a “fixer-upper,” because they couldn’t afford anything else.
When the rain started, Mom and Dad tried to make a joke about it, but the drizzle grew into a downpour. Wind ripped the plastic tarp Dad had nailed to the rafters, leaving large gaps where the water poured through. The man took off, leaving Dad to finish on his own.
“What about church?” Sam asked in a small voice.
Josh exchanged looks with his brother. When Sam had been sick with chicken pox last year, Mom and Dad had taken turns attending meetings, but the family had never completely missed going to church.
“Everybody get ready,” Dad said.
Josh set down a pot. “What about the roof?”
“It’ll still be there when we get back. I hope.” Dad smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes.
Mom didn’t even try to smile. She pushed herself up from the chair and started for the bedroom.
Josh knew that both his parents were worried. Money had been tight since Dad had decided to return to school to get a degree in engineering. If they didn’t get the new roof on soon, the carpet and floors would be ruined. They had moved the furniture to one side and covered it with plastic tablecloths.
Josh and Sam quickly dressed in their Sunday clothes, without any teasing of each other. Then they helped the two younger children get ready.
Josh barely listened during his Primary lesson. His thoughts were back at the house.
The family all changed clothes immediately after returning from church. They were emptying the overflowing pots and pans when men from their new ward started arriving in work clothes and boots.
Brother Jensen took a heavy pot from Josh’s mom. “I’ll take that,” he said gently. He turned to Josh’s dad. “Brother McCauley, we’d appreciate it if you and your wife would let us help.”
“We brought reinforcements,” Brother Howard added, gesturing to the other men.
Josh recognized the two men as their home teachers. Though the family had been in the house only three months, their home teachers had visited each month.
Mom looked at Dad. Tears glistened in her eyes. Dad held out his hand. “We’d be glad for your help. Thank you.”
Josh gave up trying to count all the men who came, some bearing tools, others ladders and supplies. There was much laughter and jokes about Noah’s flood as the rain continued to pour down.
Relief Society sisters began arriving with food. “We figured you wouldn’t feel much like cooking, Sister McCauley,” one of the ladies said as she placed a pan of rolls on the table. Others set down plates and bowls of food. They stayed to empty pots of water and mop the floor.
Later that night, when the roof was finished, Josh asked his dad, “Why did the men come to work on Sunday?” He knew that Church members didn’t normally work on Sunday. Sundays belong to the Lord.
His dad took a while to answer. “The Lord knows the intent of people’s hearts,” he said at last. “He knew that we needed help today, and he sent it in the form of our friends.”*
“Home teaching answers many prayers and permits us to see … living miracles.”President Thomas S. MonsonFirst Counselor in the First Presidency(Ensign, November 1997, page 47.)

“Hey, look!” Kate picked up a crumpled paper doll from the floor in the store. “Here, put it in your pocket.”
“You want me to take it?” Maddy asked.
“The store can’t sell it anyway,” Kate said. “They’d just throw it in the trash. This is a rescue mission. We’re saving this doll!”
Kate smiled at Maddy. Maddy smiled back.
“OK.” Maddy slipped the paper doll into her pocket. It felt special to be on a rescue mission!
Still, as they walked out of the store, the paper doll felt like a heavy rock in her pocket. Is that what a rescue mission was supposed to feel like?
When they got back to Maddy’s house, Kate carefully taped and flattened the paper doll the best she could.
“What kind of clothes should I make for her?” she asked, picking up a crayon. “How about a beautiful ball gown?”
Maddy nodded eagerly. “Then we can show my mom!”
“No! We can’t tell anyone,” Kate said. “Not ever. It’s our secret, OK? Promise me you won’t tell.”
“Oh … OK. I promise,” Maddy said. “But why can’t we tell?”
“If you tell, your mom would get mad, and she might not let us play together anymore.”
“Why would she be mad?” Maddy asked. Her stomach felt fluttery and nervous.
Kate put down her crayon. “If you don’t tell, I’ll let you keep the doll and all the outfits I draw for her.”
Now Maddy knew why she felt so nervous. “We … we stole it, didn’t we?” she whispered.
“Hey, you’re the one who stuffed it in your pocket and sneaked it out of the store.”
“Because you told me to!”
“I did not!” Kate said. “I’m going home before you get me in trouble.” She stood up and ran out the door.
Just then Mom came into the room. “Why did Kate leave in such a hurry?” She saw the paper doll in Maddy’s hands. “And where did that come from?”
Maddy bit her lip. She didn’t feel good about keeping a secret from Mom. But what if Kate was right and Mom got mad?
The nervous feeling in her stomach wouldn’t go away. She took a deep breath and blurted out the whole story.
“Kate told me to promise to keep it a secret,” she said. “But it felt wrong.”
Mom sat beside her on the bed. “Most secrets are wrong. Especially if you’re told to never tell anyone. On the other hand, a surprise, like a gift or party, can be a good thing. It’s meant to be fun for everyone.”
Maddy nodded. “Thanks for not getting mad at me,” she said. “Kate said you would.”
Mom hugged her tight. “I’m really proud of you for listening to the Holy Ghost and telling me the truth.”
“Will you drive me back to the store to return the doll?” Maddy asked.
“Of course!” Mom smiled. “And when we get back, you can help me make a cake to surprise Dad.”
Maddy laughed. “Now that’s something I can feel good about!”

Martha lived in a society in which women rarely attended college, yet she earned four degrees by age 25. They included a bachelor’s degree in chemistry from the University of Deseret, a medical degree from the University of Michigan (one of the few schools that offered co-ed programs), a degree in pharmaceuticals from the University of Pennsylvania, and a bachelor’s degree in oratory from the National School of Elocution and Oratory in Philadelphia.
In 1878, Martha was called by Church leaders to serve as a medical practitioner and set apart for medical studies. She was the only woman in her medical school class and later became the youngest head surgeon at Deseret Hospital, where she also taught nursing classes. While there, she met Angus Cannon, a hospital board member and brother of Elder George Q. Cannon of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. She became one of Angus’s wives in 1884.

When she was 21, she married Marcus in the Salt Lake Temple. Soon after their marriage they traveled east to Chicago where he entered school to become a dentist. He was in school during the Great Depression, and in order to help him achieve his goal, Ruth decided to find a job. There was a typing job open, but she couldn’t type.

She could, however, make her fingers fly over those piano keys, and she felt she could make her fingers learn anything. So for two solid weeks she riveted her fingertips to the keyboard of a manual typewriter and taught herself to type. Out of the 81 applicants for the job, she was selected!

Then World War II began and Marc was sent to sea. Ruth decided to wait in her parents’ home, and it proved to be a long, frightening vigil. But Marc was preserved to see his and Ruth’s family expand to three daughters and a son. And as Nancy, Allyson, Judd, and Jennie Jo each entered the Funk home and the family began sinking deeper roots in Salt Lake City, Ruth was given responsible callings in addition to being a good mother and supportive wife.

Yet, thanks to divine providence, an ember of hope for Koreans began to grow in New York, USA. Syngman Rhee, president of Korea, sent Kim Ho Jik, director of the Suwon Agricultural Experimentation Station, to the United States to learn how to improve nutrition in the Korean diet. Ho Jik chose Cornell University, which had an excellent graduate study program in nutrition. In 1949 he started to pursue a doctoral degree—as well as attend various church meetings around Ithaca, New York, to find the “true church.”1
Ho Jik made friends with a man named Oliver Wayman. Unlike Ho Jik’s other acquaintances, Oliver did not drink or smoke and never swore. He also never worked on Sundays. One day Ho Jik asked Oliver, “What makes you live that way?” In answer to that question, Oliver gave him a book titled The Articles of Faith by Elder James E. Talmage (1862–1933) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.
Ho Jik read The Articles of Faith within a week and then read the Book of Mormon. He believed both books and told Oliver the Book of Mormon was “more complete and easier to understand than the Bible.”2 Ho Jik accepted the gospel message like dry ground receiving long-awaited rains. His faith grew day by day. He started to receive the missionary lessons and decided to be baptized.
On July 29, 1951, 46-year-old Kim Ho Jik was baptized in the Susquehanna River—he wanted to be baptized near where the Prophet Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery were baptized over 100 years before. When he was coming out of the water, he heard a clear voice saying, “Feed my sheep.” That impression led him to devote the rest of his life to helping the gospel take root in Korea.

Some years ago Elder Marion D. Hanks told about a group of Boy Scouts who went cave exploring. The narrow trail was marked with white stones and lighted in sections as they went. After about an hour they came to a huge, high dome. Below it lay an area called the Bottomless Pit, so called because the floor of the cave had collapsed into a deep, gaping hole. It was hard not to jostle each other on that narrow path. Pretty soon, one of the bigger boys accidentally pushed a smaller boy into a muddy area away from the light. Terrified as he lost his footing, he screamed in the darkness. The ranger heard his cry of terror and came quickly. The boy let out another cry as the beam of the ranger’s light showed that he was right on the very edge of the pit. (See Improvement Era, June 1957, 444–51.)
In this story, the boy was rescued. But this does not always happen. So many times young people go to the very edge or even beyond it. With only a precarious toehold, it is easy to be seriously injured or even die.

I remember the night vividly and marvel at how far I had strayed from what I knew was right. There I was, searching through trash cans behind a supermarket for food. I was close to suicide, yet I was afraid to die. Deeply frightened, I reflected on the incredible changes I had permitted to occur in my life.
I had been born into a Latter-day Saint home, and from the time I was a youngster I had attended my Church meetings. I graduated from seminary, was active in leadership roles, and loved being an active member of the Church.
After graduating, I was offered a scholarship to Brigham Young University. Instead of accepting it, I decided to try out for the top-rated baseball team of a university in another state. I had visions of becoming a professional athlete.
In college, I was exposed to an entirely different lifestyle. People’s attitudes were different, and I discovered a maze of differing philosophies. My Church activity dwindled, and my value system soon weakened. In spite of my lifelong membership in the Church, I wasn’t a true disciple of Jesus Christ. I was fully capable of ignoring the Spirit of the Lord.
New ideas and temptations hit me head-on. I began experimenting with drugs and alcohol and started dating a girl who was not a member of the Church. I even quit the baseball team to get a job so I could buy a car to impress her. I skipped classes as I became more involved with my girlfriend and drugs.
It wasn’t long before I was addicted. Within two years I couldn’t hold a job or function in normal society. I was broke, sick, and friendless on the beaches of San Diego, California.
That night in the supermarket parking lot, I fell to my knees. With tears streaming down my face, I pleaded for help, hoping that what I had learned as a child was true and that someone was listening.
Suddenly a wonderful warmth engulfed my head, then filled my entire body. I could feel the Spirit of the Lord with an intensity I had never known. A soothing calmness came over me, and for the first time in years, I felt at peace.
When I finally stood again, I was free of fear and anguish. I knew my desperate, sincere prayer for help had been answered.
The road back was a long but rewarding one. I returned to activity in the Church and began seriously studying the scriptures. I served as director of a drug rehabilitation center in southern California for a time and saw many helped through the power of God. I also saw others, who would not heed the Lord’s teachings, sink lower into hopelessness and degradation. I ache for those people and feel ever grateful to the Lord for hearing and answering my desperate prayer.

During 2008, Asenaca Ramasima won what are probably the two most prestigious awards for students at the Fiji LDS Church College. First, she was selected as dux, or top student in the school. That award carries with it a tuition scholarship. But she also received the Lion of the Lord Award, given to an exemplary seminary student. She treasures this second award even more than the first, because it is a reminder of how she has tried to apply faith in her Heavenly Father in her own day-to-day life.
Life has already dealt Asenaca an ample share of hardship, even though she is only 19. And yet she seems to radiate joy—joy in the knowledge that she has an eternal family because they were sealed in the Suva Fiji Temple in 2001 and joy in the knowledge that she is known and loved by her Heavenly Father.
Asenaca is the youngest of five children, after four brothers. When their father died, she recalls, their oldest brother, then serving as a missionary, urged all of them to remember that their father was not lost to them; he would always be close.
Her brothers became breadwinners for the family, while their mother became a spiritual bonding agent to hold them together. The children have benefited as they have followed their parents’ examples.
“My father was an inspiration for me. He always taught us, ‘Work hard, work hard,’” the soft-spoken Asenaca says. Working hard in school has been her way of honoring her father and helping her mother. The scholarship that comes with the dux award is a valuable contribution Asenaca has made toward the costs of her own education.
Parental example also gave her a foundation for her spiritual education. “We were taught every day at home through family scripture reading and teachings from our own parents,” Asenaca says. Her mother, she adds, continues to build on this foundation for her family.
Asenaca’s own regular scripture study helps her maintain and strengthen her faith in Jesus Christ. She makes time for scripture study no matter what her schedule may be.
Faith in Jesus Christ has in turn helped her stay close to her Heavenly Father so she can call on His guidance. “I know He is always there,” she says. “If I do what He wants me to do, He will be there for me, and His Spirit will confirm what is right.”
That guidance is important when some young women her age try to talk her into “having fun” the way they do—drinking, smoking, putting chastity aside. But “those things are against my conscience,” Asenaca says, and because of her faith and the safety she feels in Heavenly Father’s guidance, “I can say no.”
Service in the Church, she says, has helped her build some confidence she would not otherwise have. That will be important when she finishes her schooling at the Church College, because then she hopes to be able to attend Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah, or BYU–Hawaii to study accounting.
Those places are a long way from her family’s home in a rural area on the outskirts of Suva. Would it be a bit scary to go so far from home? Asenaca thinks about this question for a moment, then gives one of her broad smiles. Yes, she answers—but she will do it to meet her goals.
It is easy to believe that Asenaca will do what she says. So far, she has done very well at meeting her goals. And like other faithful members in Fiji, she has found both spiritual growth and temporal progress through exercising faith and keeping the commandments.

I am so grateful I was blessed with the strength to break the unhealthy cycle with my ex-husband. It took a while for me to forgive him, but as I continued to study the Book of Mormon, I learned it was possible for me to forgive through the power of Jesus Christ’s Atonement.
I felt a huge weight lifted from me as I learned to completely trust that God would judge righteously knowing all the facts of our circumstances. I realized I was hurting myself by holding on to pain and resentment toward my ex-husband. I needed to forgive him in order to heal myself.
Elder Tad R. Callister, an emeritus General Authority Seventy, once wrote:
“One of the blessings of the Atonement is that we can receive of the Savior’s succoring powers. …
“… His spirit heals; it refines; it comforts; it breathes new life into hopeless hearts. It has the power to transform all that is ugly and vicious and worthless in life to something of supreme and glorious splendor. He has the power to convert the ashes of mortality to the beauties of eternity.”2
I know this is true, because I experienced it.
I am so blessed that I have been able to experience the succoring power of the Savior. He healed my heart so I could forgive. He transformed all that was ugly into a glorious experience. I have been filled with joy, and I can honestly say I’m grateful for this trial because it helped me become a stronger, better disciple of Christ.
Years later, I am still saddened at times about my divorce, but it is no longer a painful memory. It is merely an experience in my life that taught me so much about myself and helped me gain a closer relationship with God. And my ex-husband and I have remained cordial, thanks to the Savior’s healing power.

When Zack and his dad drove into the Jenkins’s yard on Thanksgiving Day, he saw his cousins setting a ladder next to a tree.
“Hurry, Zack!” called Amber.
“You’re just in time,” said Penny.
Zack jumped out of the car into the soft snow. “In time for what?” he asked. He and his dad lived in an apartment far away from any relatives. They had never spent Thanksgiving with the Jenkins family before.
Penny held up the basket in her hand and said, “We’ve made all kinds of treats for the birds. It’s a family tradition.”
What’s a tradition? Zack wondered. He was about to ask, when William said, “Come on—you can be first on the ladder, Zack, since it’s your first time here.”
Zack’s dad helped William hold the ladder steady while Zack climbed up it. Penny handed Zack a popcorn-and-suet ball from the basket. Zack reached as high as he could and hung the ball on a branch.
Everyone took a turn climbing the ladder and hanging up a treat. Soon the tree looked splendid decorated with popcorn-and-suet balls, pinecones spread with peanut butter, orange and apple slices, and milk-carton feeders filled with crunchy seeds.
“Let’s go inside now and watch the birds through the window,” said Penny.
“What’s a tradition?” Zack asked as he trooped inside with the others.
“A tradition is something you do every year at the same time in the same way,” Penny said.
Grandpa Jenkins greeted them at the door. “Yes, and it wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without a feast for the birds,” he said.
Just then another car came up the driveway.
“Hurray!” everyone shouted. “Here comes Aunt Irene with the pies.”
“It wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without Irene’s pies,” said Grandpa. He took the pies and gave her a hug.
Grandma looked over from the stove. “Set them on the counter, please, next to the pickles,” she said. Her face was warm and red from basting the turkey in the oven.
Zack sniffed the savory kitchen smells. “Wow! Pumpkin pie!” he exclaimed.
“Aunt Irene makes two kinds of pie—pumpkin and apple—every year,” Amber told him.
Another family tradition, thought Zack. Traditions are great! He smacked his lips and helped the other grandchildren set the table. His dad helped the uncles bring in extra chairs. The aunts mixed the salads. William fed the dog. Outside in the tree the birds chirped over their feast.
At last dinner was ready to eat, and everyone sat down. After a blessing on the food was said, each person shared aloud some of the special things he or she was thankful for that year. While they ate, they told funny stories and laughed.
As each course was finished, the aunts cleared dishes from the table. Empty dishes began to pile up on the counter where the pies and pickles and salads had been before. When the counter overflowed with dirty dishes, the aunts stacked more in the sink. When the sink was full, they piled more on the stove.
When the last slice of pie had been eaten, Grandma smiled and sighed as she put her apron back on.
“Now for the ‘dirty dish disaster,’” Aunt Nora muttered, echoing Grandma’s sigh.
But Penny, Amber, William, Grandpa, and all the uncles put on their jackets and caps and mittens.
“What’s going on?” asked Zack.
“It wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without a walk in the park after dinner,” said Grandpa, patting his full stomach.
“The river is frozen hard enough to walk on. It’s fun. Grab your jacket and come with us, Zack,” said William.
Zack ran for his jacket. In the kitchen he stopped. Grandma and Aunt Nora were at the sink. It was spilling over with sticky dishes and dirty pots and pans. The other aunts were putting leftovers in the refrigerator and pantry. “Aren’t you going on the walk?” Zack asked them.
Grandma shook her head. “We stay here and attack the dirty dishes,” she explained.
“We always do,” said Aunt Nora.
“We have plenty of practice,” said Aunt Irene.
Penny and William and the others waited at the door for Zack and his dad.
Some people go for a walk. Others stay and do the dishes. Is this a tradition, too? wondered Zack.
“Aren’t you coming, Zack?” asked Penny.
Zack walked slowly over to the sink. “Dad and I do the dishes every night. I guess that’s our tradition,” he said as he took off his jacket and picked up a dish towel.
Zack’s dad nodded and rolled up his sleeves.
Then Amber took off her coat and said, “I can dry too.”
William took off his jacket. “I was on the dish-scraping crew at summer camp.”
Grandpa gave a little cough. “I suppose it won’t matter if we delay the walk a bit.”
Soon Zack, his dad, and all the rest of the Jenkinses were busy in the kitchen, scraping and washing and drying dishes. Grandpa put them away because he knew where they belonged in the cupboards.
“Well, I never!” Grandma kept saying.
When the kitchen was all cleaned, the sun was beginning to set. The blue sky was streaked with red and orange. Many of the birds were gone. Zack was worried. “Did we break your after-dinner Thanksgiving tradition?”
“You sure broke the ‘dirty dish disaster’ tradition,” said Aunt Nora, helping Grandma on with her coat, “and it’s about time!”
“Yes, you’ve helped us replace it with a better one!” declared Aunt Irene.
Zack gave a happy grin as they all went out in the fresh November air for their walk together—a new Jenkins family tradition.

A few years ago, we decided to bottle peaches for our grandpa for Christmas. We knew that he liked simple gifts and loved peaches. Mom helped us boil the peaches, peel them, and put them in jars. It was so much fun to bottle the peaches and learn something new. On Christmas, we went to our grandpa’s house and were excited to carry in the big box of peaches. He was so happy when he unwrapped the box and saw all of the peaches inside. He told us how proud he was of us for learning how to bottle peaches. Now we give him Christmas peaches every year.

One Sunday our stake received the wonderful news that Elder Carlos H. Amado of the Seventy would be coming to speak to our stake on Tuesday evening. My family and I were thrilled, but I worried about how we would make it to the meeting.
As a high school teacher, I had to teach a class Tuesday evening. Unfortunately, I was rarely granted time off. Not sure what to do but determined to hear Elder Amado speak, my family and I turned to prayer, hoping the Lord would provide a way.
The day before the conference, I felt prompted to talk with the principal about leaving 20 minutes early so my family and I could make it to the meeting. I arrived in her office, and before I could say a word, she asked me if I would mind changing my Tuesday class starting time to two hours earlier than normal. This meant that my class would get out two hours early.
What a blessing this was to us. We arrived at the meeting in plenty of time and felt the Spirit in the presence of one of the Lord’s disciples. Our five-year-old son even had the wonderful privilege of sharing a hug and small conversation with Elder Amado before the meeting began. Together with the rest of the congregation, we enjoyed an outpouring of the Spirit. In addition, we gained a testimony as a family that Heavenly Father knows our desires and hears our prayers.