Temple, Testimony, and a Father’s Embrace

Taaken Iobi’s father suddenly got very sick. “I was talking to him one night, and he was so healthy and strong,” she says. “Then the next day . . . he became a completely different person, . . . can’t move and can’t talk.”

After two weeks in hospital, doctors still couldn’t explain her father’s mysterious paralysis and inability to speak. The situation was especially difficult for Taaken because she was in Hawaii for school while her family was home in Kiribati. “We’re so far away from each other,” she says.

Five years earlier, Taaken was 20 years old when she flew to New Zealand to serve a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It was the first time she had ever travelled away from Kiribati, and she was the first of her siblings to leave.

The excitement of the mission quickly turned into homesickness, and during her first phone call to her father, she couldn’t say a word—she just cried. When she eventually told her parents that she wanted to come home, they encouraged her to stay.

Taaken is so grateful that she finished her mission. After her release in 2022, she couldn’t go home just yet. The COVID-19 pandemic prevented her from flying to Kiribati, so she went directly to Brigham Young University–Hawaii and began her degree studies in hospitality.

Taaken has talked to her family every day over voice and video chat. It’s not the same as being together, but hearing her parents’ voices each day helps bridge the distance.

Her father holds a special place in Taaken’s heart: “He is a loving person. He loves me and my siblings so much.” She remembers her dad’s deep concern whenever one of his children fell ill. He would go out of his way to buy them food that was difficult to find on the island. “Like apples! Oh yeah,” Taaken smiles at the memory.

A moment that she’ll never forget happened in high school. Taaken had received a bad school report and became upset when her teacher read it out to her, but when Taaken left the classroom, she was surprised to see her father—a maintenance worker at the school—sitting in the hall, listening in.

As soon as her dad saw his daughter crying, he cried too. “We cried together,” Taaken laughs. “I was crying looking at him. He kept looking at me and crying too.” Through his own tears, her father helped to carry Taaken’s disappointment.

Years later, thousands of miles away, the news of her father’s illness hit Taaken hard. She couldn’t focus on her schoolwork or her job, and all she could think about was her dad back home, unable to move or speak. “Tears randomly [fall] from my eyes because all [that is] on my mind is my dad . . . and that is very hard,” she says.

At this time, Taaken was living close to the Lāʻie Hawaii Temple, but she hadn’t been attending often. She felt a prompting to go back, but she also felt guilty. “I was not sure if Heavenly Father can hear my prayer because I’d been avoiding Him for a while,” she admits.

But despite her guilt, she knew God was the only one who could comfort her. She decided to act in faith and began going to the temple daily to pray for her father’s health.

And then a miracle happened. Her dad started to get better. The healing wasn’t instant, but eventually he was able to speak again. “It will take time for the full recovery,” Taaken says, “but I really feel like Heavenly Father helped me by helping my dad get better.”

Almost a year before her dad’s illness, four years after leaving home, Taaken was finally able to fly back to Kiribati. She decided to surprise her family, and when she walked through the door, her father stared at her for a full two minutes without saying a word.

“Then all I could see was the tears in his eyes,” Taaken remembers. Her father asked, “Why didn’t you tell us you’re coming back?” And then they cried together. “It was the best moment ever,” she says.

Today, her father’s health continues to improve. This experience has strengthened Taaken’s testimony of Heavenly Father’s love, as reflected in the love of her earthly dad.

She learned that even when we distance ourselves from Him, He is always there, waiting with arms open wide, ready to welcome us home.