Gospel Story Finder

Australian Corey Karaka knows that each challenge, change, or opportunity can help you grow.
Corey Karaka grew up in a suburb of Sydney, Australia, where, as the oldest of six brothers, he grew up like many typical Australian boys. He played rugby, soccer, basketball, and learned to swim. In fact, he quickly became a good enough swimmer to make it to the national swimming championships at the age of 12, qualifying a year early. As a boy, Corey thought he actually might want to make swimming his career, but then a whole world full of choices started coming his way, and he began taking advantage of some great opportunities.
First was his short opera career.
Opera? Why would a boy who loved sports want anything to do with opera? But Sydney, after all, has one of the most famous opera houses in the world. And Corey just happened to have a grandmother who had been an opera singer. She taught her grandson (in fact, she teaches music lessons to all her grandchildren) to sing while he was still a boy soprano. Corey auditioned and was hired to sing with Opera Australia. He remembers it as a fun time, going to rehearsals and dressing up in makeup and costumes. Corey says, “It wasn’t an intense experience for children. There are scenes where you come in as part of the chorus. It’s a shame that my voice broke, but it was a good experience.” Plus, his mother, Caragh, says, “He put away the money he earned for a mission and university.”

On the second day of young women’s camp, we went on a five-mile hike. We had to climb over a cattle gate to continue on the trail, which led up a hill. Climbing through the gate, we found a dying cow at the bottom of the hill. One of our leaders went back to find a rancher as the rest of us continued our hike.
On the way back, I was in a slower group, five girls and our leader. They were busy taking pictures, so I decided to go ahead. As I walked down the hill I heard a cow. My first thought was that it was the dying cow. A warning voice, firm yet silent, said “Turn back.” I almost ignored it, but it came again. This time I listened and returned to the group. As we started down, we saw two enormous black bulls walking fast and angrily up the hill. The biggest one started pawing the ground as he stared at us, possibly angered by the dead cow at the bottom of the hill. We were scared out of our minds, but our priesthood leader distracted it, and we were able to climb over a fence to safety.
As we entered camp again, I realized that if I hadn’t listened to the warning from the Spirit, I could have been badly hurt or even killed. I knew that Heavenly Father cared about me personally and had kept me safe. I am so thankful to the Lord for that warning. This experience strengthened my testimony and gave me a greater love for the Lord.

Carrie’s older brother tugged one of her thick blond braids. “Hey, Freckles, you ought to have the sheepshearers cut your hair, too.”
“Yeah,” chimed in her twin brother, “you have more wool than old Tim Buck.”
Nine-year-old Carrie made a face at her brothers. All three children were sitting on top of the strawstack at the far end of the sheep shed. Sheep, waiting to be sheared, moved about below them, bleating nervously. The shearing clippers buzzed, and men shouted orders as they threw the fleeces up into the wool bag.
Tim Buck, the huge lead ram, seemed to be the only calm one amid the confusion. He was penned apart and was munching on hay. Whenever he shook off flies, the large bell around his neck jingled.
“Carrie Helen!” shouted her dad. “Carrie Helen Shultz, please come here.”
Always anxious to please her father, she called back, “Coming!” Scooting off the strawstack, she ran to meet her dad.
“Carrie, I need you to go with Tim Buck to lead the sheep we’ve already sheared over to the south pasture. There are about a hundred ewes or so, plus the lambs. We have to make room for the next ones.”
“Yes, sir,” she answered, grinning up at her brothers and throwing her shoulders back proudly.
Dad fastened one end of a stout rope to the lead sheep’s collar and handed the other end to Carrie. “OK, Carrie, Tim Buck’s ready. Remember what his job is.”
Without hesitating, Tim Buck started out of the holding pen. He showed no fear of Carrie and looked up at her with soft brown eyes, eyes filled with warmth and wisdom.
Confident of her own importance and of Tim Buck’s love, Carrie stepped out in front of the old sheep. She walked through the noisy ewes, who responded immediately to the sound of the lead sheep’s bell. As they followed Carrie and Tim Buck out of the corral gate, she felt their excitement as they rushed forward. They seemed to know that they were free now to go to the south pasture. Sensing their anticipation, and sure of her responsibility, Carrie tugged at the rope fastened to the sheep’s collar, pulling him toward the narrow bridge and her favorite shortcut to the south pasture.
But Tim Buck resisted Carrie’s tugging and headed toward the hill and the longer, usual route. Again Carrie pulled at the rope, trying to head the old sheep toward the bridge. Again Tim Buck resisted.
“Oh, why can’t you do it my way!” Carrie stamped her foot impatiently as Tim Buck stopped and refused to move. Though she pulled hard, her twenty-seven kilograms were no match against the weight of the huge sheep. When her arms began to tire, Carrie glared at Timi Buck and grumbled, “All right! I’ll do it your way this time. Come on. Let’s go up that long hill. At least we can cut across the hayfield and not have to take the long road around it.”
The ewes, confused at the delay, had begun to push forward, bleating worriedly. As Tim Buck moved forward, his bell started jingling, and the sheep quieted. When Carrie, walking a couple feet in front, quickened her step, Tim Buck quickened his. The hungry ewes also increased their pace. Out of breath, Carrie rushed to the top of the hill. “Now’s my chance,” she said, pulling tightly on Tim Buck’s rope, forcing his head toward the hayfield.
Tim Buck butted Carrie gently, loosening her grip. Then he moved toward the well-used road.
“Why, you ornery critter! Can’t you see how much easier it would be to cut across that field instead of going around it!” She yanked at the rope, trying to drag Tim Buck toward the hayfield. He looked at her, then shook his head forcefully. The bell jangled, and the ewes pressed forward as Tim Buck pulled away from the hayfield and moved quickly onto the familiar road. The rope started to slip through Carrie’s hands, but she held on tightly.
Half running, Carrie tried to get ahead of Tim Buck. But he only walked faster. The more she tried, the faster he went, and the faster he went, the faster came the ewes and lambs. Soon Carrie was caught between Tim Buck and the rushing sheep, and the rope was slipping out of her grasp. She clutched it desperately, even though it was burning her fingers.
Familiar with the road and quickened by hunger, the sheep hurried toward the open gate to the south pasture, where Tim Buck saw his own shortcut! He swerved suddenly from the road and down a steep slope. The sudden movement sent Carrie sprawling, and the rope was jerked out of her hands. The sheep quickly moved away from her and down the slope, following Tim Buck through the open pasture gate.
Carrie lay bewildered, hurt, and defeated. Sobbing, she struggled to her feet. With skinned knees and stinging hands, she stumbled back toward the sheep shed. With each step, she imagined her brothers’ teasing and her father’s disappointment.
Her dad met her in his truck before Carrie reached the shed. Stopping his truck, he got out and hurried over to her. Then, tilting her tear-stained face up for him to see, and putting one hand on her shoulder, he said, “It looks like you’ve had some troubles, honey.” He looked at her intently, but his voice was gentle and matter-of-fact. Seeing Carrie’s rope-burned hands, he dampened his handkerchief in some clean water and gently patted them while she told her story.
“So you wanted the sheep to take the shorter path across the bridge?” her father said when she had finished.
“It would have been much faster.”
“Do you think that all those sheep could have safely crossed that narrow bridge together?”
“Well,” Carrie hesitated. “I—I guess not. But they would have had plenty of room to cross the hayfield.”
“But, Carrie, do you remember how sick the sheep get when they eat too much hay? Do you know that most sheep can’t stop eating fresh hay once they get started?”
“Oh, Dad, I’m sorry,” Carrie sobbed.
“You’re lucky, Carrie, that Tim Buck wouldn’t allow the sheep to take a dangerous path.”
“Yeah, he’s really stubborn,” Carrie said.
“Perhaps he’s not as stubborn as he is committed to doing what he knows is right. Remember, Carrie, that he’s the lead sheep. He guides the others in the paths that will get them safely to where they want to go, just as Mom and I try to lead you along the right pathways so that you can return to live with Heavenly Father.”
Dad and Carrie got into the truck and he looked at her hands again to make sure that they weren’t seriously hurt. Then he drove toward the south pasture and stopped. Carrie was surprised when he got out of the truck and lifted her out too.
“All right, Carrie Helen. Now that you know why Tim Buck behaves as he does, do you think that you can take him back to get another bunch of sheep?”
“Yes, Dad. And this time I’ll let him lead the way.”

Years later, I felt that same sense of overwhelm again, but in a very different setting. I was a mother of four young children working on my first graduate degree at the University of Hawai’i at M?noa. At one point, I needed to take a Spanish 202 class, even though I hadn’t taken a Spanish class since 2005, and it was 2019. I felt completely overwhelmed. I remember crying about it to my former Spanish language professor, Elaine McArthur. In my discouragement, I told her I didn’t think I could do it. She looked at me and said something that has stayed with me ever since. She said, “You can absolutely do this. But you will need to do what you can with the time you have.”

That simple phrase changed everything for me. Instead of waiting for the perfect amount of time, the perfect level of focus, or the perfect circumstances—I began to just start. Sometimes I only had five minutes. But five minutes mattered. Five minutes made it easier to come back later. Five minutes helped me move forward when I otherwise would have stayed stuck. I have thought about that principle often since then. Sometimes we think that if we cannot do something perfectly or to the fullest extent, it is not worth doing at all. But that is not how the Lord works. “…And thus we see that by small means the Lord can bring about great things”. [2] Sometimes Come, Follow Me looks like a deep and meaningful family discussion. And sometimes it looks like a single verse, read quickly, but sincerely. And that still matters. That is still a spiritual deposit. That still invites the Spirit into our homes and into our lives. Doing what we can with the time we have is not a lesser offering. It is a faithful one.

I took that fateful Spanish language class day by day, and with the help of my profesoras, tutors, and my Spanish-speaking father patiently getting on FaceTime each day, I completed the class with a good grade and increased faith. I have been able to apply that lesson as I worked on a second master's degree, getting my dream job as a librarian and faculty member at BYU–Hawaii, and facing many challenges that have been presented to our family whether we like it or not.

As a new missionary serving in the Massachusetts Boston Mission, I realized that I could not simply testify of what my dear parents knew to be the truth. I had to have my own conviction of the truth of the gospel and the Book of Mormon.
I remember the day well. I was praying, and a fire filled my soul. Never before or since has the Holy Ghost warmed me to the same magnitude. I knew, without a doubt, that what I had been taught regarding the gospel and the Book of Mormon was indeed the truth. I could now go on with a firm resolve and conviction.

One of my earliest recollections of a personal experience with recognizing the Spirit came when I was a missionary in Korea. I had the responsibility to present a lesson about something to the missionaries at an upcoming zone conference. I felt strongly the desire to teach something that would motivate, uplift, and help the missionaries in our zone. I remember the weight I felt on my shoulders as I pondered, prayed, and prepared for that lesson. It wasn’t a pleasant weight. It was a heavy weight that burdened me as I struggled to find the right idea for the lesson. Then one day I had a burst of inspiration. Thoughts came into my mind and almost instantly I knew what to teach. I knew it was right because the heavy burden that had weighed me down was lifted. Instead, I felt exhilarated. I guess you could say I felt peace. I remember thinking, “This must be what it feels like to be prompted by the Holy Ghost.”

This past March, our second daughter, Emma, like many missionaries in the Church, went into mandatory isolation. Many missionaries came home. Many missionaries awaited reassignment. Many did not receive their temple blessings before departing to a field of labor. Thank you, elders and sisters. We love you.
Emma and her companion in the Netherlands were stretched in those first several weeks—stretched to tears in many instances. With only brief opportunities for in-person interaction and limited outdoor exposure, Emma’s reliance on God increased. We prayed with her online and asked how we could help. She asked us to connect with friends she was teaching online!
Our family began to connect online, one by one, with Emma’s friends in the Netherlands. We invited them to join our weekly, online, extended-family Come, Follow Me study. Floor, Laura, Renske, Freek, Benjamin, Stal, and Muhammad all have become our friends. Some of our friends from the Netherlands have entered “in at the strait gate” (3 Nephi 14:13). Others are being shown “the straitness of the path, and the narrowness of the gate, by which they should enter” (2 Nephi 31:9). They are our brothers and sisters in Christ. Each week we “count it all joy” as we work together in our progress on the covenant path.

On May 22, 1882, my great-grandfather, Charles Haacke, was baptized into the Church with his entire family in Germany. Shortly thereafter, due to government pressures, his parents rejected the Church. Charles refused to do so and at age 16 was kicked out of his home permanently by his father. With the help of members, he was given money for passage to New York City. His goal: join the Saints in Utah. His choice required many sacrifices. When he arrived in New York, he did not speak English; he was at the mercy of strangers. On February 8, 1885, he began his journey West with less than a dollar in his pocket, walking and hitching rides on trains where possible. Several months later, exactly 138 years ago today, on June 27, 1885, he arrived in Evanston, Wyoming. He joined a branch of the Church, receiving strength by gathering with fellow Saints, as Brother John Mackenzie spoke about in devotional last week,[24] before arriving in Salt Lake City a year later in June 1886.

His journey is a story of unimaginable sacrifices—starvation, bitterly cold winter days and nights in the elements, and complete exhaustion. It is also a story of good Samaritans who took pity on him to provide food, clothing, and shelter. Some were kind, many were not. He often faced disdain when others discovered he was a Latter-day Saint.

My favorite story is when he arrived in Green River, Wyoming, before reaching Evanston. He met a section boss and conversed with him so far as his limited knowledge of English would permit. Quoting from a short story published about my great-grandfather’s journey, the section boss said, “‘So you want to go to Utah? I suppose you know that most of the people out there are Mormons. Why do you want to go there? Are you a Mormon?’ [Charles] . . . paused for an answer. . . . [Fearing] he would be subjected to a round of bitter abuse, he replied, ‘N-n-no.’ As soon as he said it he felt . . . contemptible. [As] he walked away . . . [he] said to himself . . . ‘Charles, you know you are very small potatoes to deny your religion under any circumstances, . . . well maybe I can mend it.’” After having walked a distance, he returned to find the section boss. “When he found him he asked, ‘Say boss, what kind of people are the Mormons? Are they pretty bad?’ ‘No, they are good people.’ ‘Well, I told you I wasn’t a Mormon and I felt [so] ashamed . . . that I came back to say, I am a Mormon.’” That evening the section boss took Charles to his hut, fed him, and treated him with hospitality and kindness and became an important contact from that point forward.[25]

When contemplating my great-grandfather’s journey, I wonder why at any point he didn’t just throw up his hands and say, “I’m done. The sacrifice isn’t worth it.”

I’m sure he had moments of doubt; however, he completed his journey, joined the saints in Utah, found a girl to marry (also a convert from Germany), and had 10 sons. My grandfather was a twin, the last two sons born to Charles and Hedwig Haacke. Charles’ choice of faith in Christ each day has made all the difference to thousands of us, his descendants, who enjoy the blessings of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. Likewise, your good choices of sacrifice, self-control, and obedience will not only bless you but also your future posterity. Every day you choose faith in Christ is a day you'll expand, progress, and grow.

When my parents realized my desire to be baptized, they surprised me by agreeing to have the missionaries come for a visit. When they arrived at our home, my parents had a good feeling. After talking for a while, the missionaries invited us to sing a hymn, “Love at Home” (Hymns, no. 294). As we sang together, my mother had tears in her eyes. Everyone was touched.
This experience softened my parents’ hearts, and a year and eight months after I first met the missionaries, I was baptized. I later served a mission in Utah and have had many wonderful opportunities in the Church.

Riding to Carthage, he might have recalled the time in Missouri when he and some of his brethren had been betrayed into the hands of their enemies. The leader of the mob convened a court; Joseph and his associates were placed on trial for their lives. They were convicted and all sentenced to be shot the next morning at eight o’clock in the public square in Far West. A dispute among the mob saved them.
They were taken from place to place and exhibited to jeering crowds, while the Saints were told they would never see their leaders again. But Joseph cheered his fellow prisoners by announcing that none of them would suffer death.
“Be of good cheer, brethren,” he said; “the word of the Lord came to me last night that our lives should be given us. … Not one of our lives should be taken” (quoted in Autobiography of Parley P. Pratt, 164; emphasis in original).

Several of you are guided daily by the Spirit in the academic area in large and small ways, for example, deciding on a major, what to read to prepare for your test, responding to the prompting not to cheat, and so on. Let me tell you about a young man who attended BYU-Hawaii a little while ago, he was a returned missionary who had served in Iceland. The Icelandic language is an incredibly difficult language to learn, but he was able to master it. After his two years were completed he enrolled here and described always having an interest in Japan - its art, language, and culture. He said, “I enrolled in Japanese 101 and thought pridefully that because I learned Icelandic I would be able to learn Japanese easily.”

However after a month the young man described himself as being at the bottom of the class. “Nothing seemed to stick to my mind, and when it finally did I was so far behind the rest of the class, I almost felt like withdrawing and taking the bad mark on my record.” He went on to say he was sitting in the library one day and he felt like he should pray. He spoke to the Lord and asked Him to help him learn Japanese. He uttered this tender plea, “Thou helped me learn Icelandic to bless others in Iceland, if thou would help me learn Japanese I will use it for whatever purposes thou would have me do in thy service.” The impression that came was that he should study the Book of Mormon in Japanese and study it in the same format that he did Icelandic. The words, characters and pronunciation came faster than they did relying on his own abilities. The purpose of the class changed; rather than the reward at the end of the class of a good grade, it was to prepare to serve the Lord and his children.

Mary Lou Beilfuss, a Laurel from the Holladay 17th Ward, Salt Lake Olympus Stake, earned the money for her banner by working at a grocery store. The theme of her banner was eternal life.
“It helped me understand more about the recent death of my father, because I studied more about eternal life. The subject was on my mind a lot, and the banner gave me the opportunity to express it on material.
“My mother and sister helped me make it. We are very close already, but working together helped us share our love. I feel close to them because they’re always willing to help. We also shared tears together because the banner had a very special meaning. It made my sister and I think of our father and my mom of her husband.
“I learned from making this banner that I am a daughter of God and that he is there when I call. It has helped my self-image and helped me grow closer to my Heavenly Father. Also, it comforted me about my father’s death,” said Mary Lou.

No series of vignettes drawn from Church history would be complete without reference to the handcart pioneers of 1856—150 years ago at this very season.

My wife’s great-grandmother, Mary Penfold Goble, was baptized in England. The family joined the Hunt Wagon Company, which accompanied the Martin Handcart Company. Her daughter’s account is written in the simple, matter-of-fact manner of a young girl, but behind those plain words is stark tragedy. She wrote:

We traveled from 15 to 25 miles a day. . . .
We traveled on till we got to the Platte River. . . . We caught up with the handcart companies that day. We watched them cross the river. There were great lumps of ice floating down the river. It was bitter cold. The next morning there were fourteen dead. . . . We went back to camp and went to prayers. We sang the song “Come, Come, Ye Saints, No Toil Nor Labor Fear.” I wondered what made my mother cry. . . . The next morning my little sister was born. It was the 23rd of September. We named her Edith, and she lived six weeks and died. . . . [She was buried at the last crossing of the Sweetwater.]
When we arrived at Devil’s Gate it was bitter cold. . . . My brother James . . . was as well as he ever was when he went to bed. In the morning he was dead.
My feet were frozen [also my brother’s and sister’s]. It was nothing but snow. We could not drive the pegs . . . for our tents. . . .
. . . We did not know what would become of us. One night a man came to our camp and told us . . . [Brigham] Young had sent men and teams to help us. . . . We sang songs, some danced and some cried. . . .
. . . My mother . . . never got well. . . . She died between the Little and Big Mountains. . . . She was 43 years old. . . .
We arrived in Salt Lake City [at] nine o’clock at night the 11th of December 1856. Three out of [the] four that were living were frozen. My mother was dead in the wagon. . . .
Early next morning . . . Brigham Young . . . came. . . . When he saw our condition—our feet frozen and our mother dead—tears rolled down his cheeks.
The doctor amputated my toes . . . [while] the sisters were dressing mother [for her grave]. . . . That afternoon she was buried. [Life of Mary Ann Goble Pay, autobiographical sketch, typescript, LDS Church Archives, Salt Lake City; also, “Mary Goble Pay Autobiography,” in Arthur D. Coleman, comp., Pay-Goble Pioneers of Nephi, Juab County, Utah (Salt Lake City: n.p., 1968), 78–81; text modernized]
What a story in a few brief words.

I remember years ago I was visiting a branch of the Church in Savannah, Georgia. I was taken to the Relief Society with my wife for lunch. I said, “My, you have a big Relief Society. How many members do you have in the Savannah Branch?” She said, “Well, about 40 sisters.” I said, “There’s a lot more than 40 here this morning.”

“Yes,” she said, “there are 84 here this morning.”

I checked and found out many were investigators and friends of members, all being “worked” and fellowshipped into the community of the Church. Fellowshipping is particularly effective with many of our part-member families.

The average stake has, say 450 prospective elders. About 60 percent are married to nonmember wives. So that’s about 300 nonmember wives. Now, we also have many member women who have married nonmember husbands—let’s say 150. And so, you have 450 or so part-member families. Add the children and you have another 100. That presents a lot of eligible people to be taught by the full-time and stake missionaries, uniting the families, and helping them get to the temple.

I’m a great believer in the power of teaching in groups. But I would not just toss any of these 450 nonmembers and their partners together without thinking and praying about it and making some divisions, grouping the younger-aged couples together, the middle-aged together, the more elderly together. I would subdivide even further. Just because a person is young or old doesn’t mean he is interested in anyone his age—what about educational and vocational and personal interests? Prayerful grouping and teaching of these families in companionable groups results in marvelous things.

Where I have found this most successful, it was because a member of the stake presidency or a high councilor called and said something like, “John, I know you’re not active in the Church, but I’m just calling a group of men and their wives like you to come over and see me individually. I’d just like to talk to you. Would you mind coming over at such and such a time?” Many come and relatively few are bitter—they’re just spiritually dead, as far as outward signs indicate. I’ve heard that many of them respond and say, “This is the first time in 10 years anyone really asked me to come and talk to them.”

Following the visit, the man and his wife may be invited to associate with one of the groups. And just as in the case of a nonmember family, this is exactly where the great help of the members is needed—in the social transition, in the friendshipping. While the discussions are being given, the following activities have shown themselves to be very effective: (a) do something for the investigating family or part-member family daily; (b) take them to Church meetings and socials now—this week!; (c) for nonmember families, coordinate through the missionaries the visits of the auxiliaries during the first weeks; and for part-member families, coordinate through the home teachers the same visits by auxiliary officers and teachers; (d) arrange appropriate activities with ward members; (e) take the family to a baptismal service; (f) arrange a family home evening—even with the part-member family if it would be appreciated; (g) leave a schedule of Church meetings and tracts—but not all of them at once; (h) help with substitutes for Word of Wisdom problems; (i) fast and pray with them; and (j) for part-member families, arrange visits with the bishops—bishops have converting power.

Elder Richards: My advice to such persons is to show their husbands or wives by the way they live the wonderful influence of the gospel in their lives. They should be better parents and more thoughtful, considerate, and happy companions.

As much as possible, they should practice the teachings of the gospel in their homes and bring its influence into the lives of their children.

Whenever possible, their friends should be from among those who will have a good influence, who will build up respect and admiration for the Church and its teachings through their association.

Without pushing, opportunities should be made for the husband or wife to be taught the gospel. Often, this is most effective when the couple can be part of a group that is being taught. If there are others in the group who are in the same circumstances, this often helps.

Never let the husband or wife feel that he or she is an outsider. The member spouse and the family should help the nonmember to feel that family unity, “oneness,” is important, and hold tight to the belief that the family should be “one” in every way.

Above all, and after all else you can do, remember that the greatest help will come from your Heavenly Father. Pray always and be patient.

But your spouse needs help. Fellowshipping plays a vital part here. It concerns me that some of our stake and ward leaders have not fully understood how important fellowshipping is. I tell you this is an area where every member can make a real contribution.

But you just can’t sit around waiting for someone to come up and ask you to fellowship them. Life is not like that. You’ve got to get involved wherever you can, volunteer to help, and just be alert. That’s one of the reasons the Lord gave us the Holy Ghost—to keep us alert to our opportunities for blessing others, as well as ourselves.

I was in Vernal, Utah, near the Colorado border, and met a sister who had just helped a family of five join the Church. She said she was down at the grocery store and saw this woman having trouble finding groceries. “Can I help?” she asked. After helping her, she asked if the woman was just traveling through. The woman said she and her husband were traveling to Colorado to find work, and our sister said, “Well, why don’t you look around here?”

“Oh we wouldn’t know where to look,” said the woman.

“Well,” our good sister said, “let me help you out. Let’s get your groceries and come on over to our home and maybe I can help your husband meet some people who can help him get a job.”

The sister got on the phone and within an hour or two, the man was on the way out to interview for some jobs. He accepted one of them, working and helping to manage a ranch.

Well, do you think this good Samaritan sister stopped there? I should say not. The family of five had nowhere to stay, and so they were invited to stay at her home that night, where they saw happy family life, blessing of the food, family prayers, night and morning, and all the rest. The man and his wife and three children were most appreciative and were interested in this sister and her family. She said that after they got settled, she’d like to let them know why they were the way they were. A week later, she took the missionaries out to this man and his wife—and the family was baptized and eagerly entered the Church. And through it all, our good sister and others provided a transition into the community.

One of the most difficult aspects of conversion is the investigator’s feeling that he is alone and that he is leaving his old friends and way of life for something new. All members can be actively involved—and need to go out of their way to get involved—in helping others find the Church, find new friends, take persons who are investigating the gospel to socials, meetings, athletic events—everything good and wholesome. Otherwise, the investigators generally fear the awkward sensation of being obvious newcomers and strangers. This is another reason why I like grouping part-member families in compatible groups. By teaching several together, we make it possible for new friendships to develop. Many choice things have happened when a group of sincere part-member families get together to learn about their spouse’s religion—and as they talk and learn and share feelings and as the member spouse bears appropriate testimony, even about his or her life, the Spirit moves across their hearts and wonderful truths are discovered. It works! I see and hear about it all the time.

“My husband’s family was very poor. His mother made rugs to sell at a trading post, and his father tended sheep, cut firewood, and hauled water for the family,” explained the lovely young wife of this General Authority, while rocking a baby on her lap. “There were ten in his family and they lived fifteen miles from the nearest town in a remote desert area. There were no cars or running water. And the drinking water was often so bad that the people there would drink fruit juices and soda pop instead.
“When my husband was four years old, he became very ill and went into a coma. Everyone thought he had died. In fact, his body had been placed in a casket for burial. In a little while they heard a faint knocking on the side of the casket. The child was alive! The casket was quickly reopened and the boy sat up. ‘I want a soda pop,’ he said.
Thereafter, he was known as the ‘soda pop kid.’ His parents have often said that after this experience he was a changed child. He was more responsible and would help tend the others in the family. He was concerned about others and seemed to be blessed with a special spirit.
“The main diet for his family was fry bread made from biscuit dough, mutton stew, and often soda pop. Today, his favorite foods are anything hot and spicy that he can put pepper on.
“He herded sheep until the age of nine; then he was placed in boarding school. Since the people there could not pronounce his real name, they gave him an English one. The only problem was that they also gave three other children the same name. So there was a number one, two, three, and four with the same name.
“A Latter-day Saint missionary couple at the trading post baptized my husband when he was ten years old, and he attended Church services from that time on. He was selected to be part of the Church’s placement program and was to be sent to Utah to live with a foster family and go to school. An hour before the bus was to leave, a friend, Brother Bloomfield, put a bowl on his head and gave him a quick haircut. All of his belongings were put into a shoe box—he had no shoes. There were more holes in the Levis he was wearing than there was denim material. He was put on a bus at night, given two dollars by Brother Bloomfield, and told that he would arrive there by morning.”
At this point, I was thinking how difficult it must have been for that little boy to leave his family to go all alone on a bus to a place with a different culture where he knew no one. The only tie that he had with them was that he was a member of the Latter-day Saint Church.
The General Authority’s wife continued: “On the first day at his new school in Utah the children all gathered round my husband. They had never seen an Indian before. ‘Where’s your war paint?’ they asked. ‘Where are your moccasins?’
“The new foster parents were concerned because their Indian son was so shy. In fact, the only words he spoke to them during the first three months were yes and no. At Christmastime they gave him some new clothes—two pairs of pants, four shirts, two pairs of stockings, etc. The mother asked him to go upstairs and try them on. After quite a while he came downstairs with all of the shirts, pants, and socks on at the same time. It was difficult to get used to a new language and customs.
“Even though my husband’s now very busy, he enjoys football and basketball. When he’s hot, he has a great corner shot and can’t miss! When he has spare time, which isn’t often, he loves to play the harmonica. Last Christmas he played for the General Authorities at their Christmas party.
“My husband believes that family home evening is a great time to train children to be leaders. He always has one of our children conduct. One of them will assign the prayers and choose the hymns. At the conclusion, the one conducting thanks all those who participated. Usually the person who gave the lesson is sincerely complimented. Then the closing song is announced and the name of the one to give the closing prayer.
“One morning the children’s father had to leave at 5 A.M. for an early meeting at the Church offices. Later he called when the children were just getting up and we all had family prayer with him on the telephone.”
His small children had these comments: “When Daddy comes home, he tells me that if I eat my dinner he’ll give me a horsey ride. Sometimes he’ll give my friend a ride too!”
“Dad is helping me to save money for my mission.”
“My daddy shows us how to clean. He always tells us to clean the counter when we wash the dishes.”
“He’s kind.”
“When he plays football with us, we all have to speak nicely.”
When asked about her husband’s favorite topic to speak on, she said, “He always says that we’re all God’s children, no matter what color we are, and that our church has no room for prejudice. When he speaks, he represents the whole Church, not just the Lamanite people.”

We have some great experiences as General Authorities. We don’t feel worthy to have them; we wish everyone could have them. For example, one of the most delightful experiences of the Spirit, wherein we feel the guidance of our Heavenly Father, is every time we create a new stake or change a stake presidency. We know beforehand that the Lord has already picked the man and we have to find out through the spiritual guidance of the Holy Ghost who the man is that he has already chosen.

Some of us who have the blessing of working in Latin American countries have the opportunity to create new stakes frequently. You are worried, nervous, and tremble all of the time, knowing that you must pick the man that the Lord wants to preside over that stake. The Lord is so wise and we have such limited knowledge. He seems to tell us in a different way every time, so the nervousness and the trembling go on.

Sometimes you know the instant the man walks into the room. Sometimes you know before you even commence your interviews. And sometimes you don’t know until the very last second when you are offering the final prayer to receive his approval. Sometimes in the prayer you’ve entirely forgotten the name of the one you had chosen and the name of another man comes visibly before your mind. You then express it and feel his influence upon you.

I remember last week in Mexico City vividly. I had the pleasure of dividing a stake and forming the new Pachuca stake on the outskirts of the city. I remember all the men with whom we interviewed, and felt that it should be Brother so and so. The man who was chosen was right next in line, nearly equal to that man. But as to which one of these two or four was the very difficult question to answer. But, again, the Lord told us in his unique way who that man should be. Can you imagine the feeling of satisfaction you get to know that it seems to meet with his approval as unworthy as you are to be his instrument?

One day my English teacher was telling us how she thought Clinton Central didn’t welcome new students and left others out. A week later I received the October 1987 New Era. As I was glancing through it, the story “Everyone Belongs” caught my eye. While I was reading, all I could think about was how much this school in the story sounded like my own. Since I am a class officer, I felt I could try to do something.
I showed the story to my English teacher, who is also my freshman class adviser. While the class was doing the assigned homework, she read the story. I couldn’t help but notice a tear running down her face. When she had finished reading she said she thought we as a school needed to do something to make everyone feel as if they belonged. She had me take the story to Mrs. Pearson, who is in charge of the student council and to Mr. Thompson, who is in charge of the Fellowship of Christian Athletes at Clinton Central.
I know this article is going to affect many people at my school, and I can already see the efforts being made to include others by those who have read it.

President Gordon B. Hinckley tells of an experience he had as a boy lying in the bed of an old farm wagon at night with his brother Sherman. They “looked at the myriads of stars in the heavens, and took turns picking out familiar stars and tracing the Big Dipper, the handle and the cup, to find the North Star.” President Hinckley said he was fascinated by the North Star. Regardless of the earth’s rotation, the North Star maintained its position in the heavens and never moved. He said: “I recognized it as a constant in the midst of change. It was something that could always be counted on, something that was dependable, an anchor in what otherwise appeared to be a moving and unstable firmament.”

Steve Bennion, the president of Ricks College, told of a student there who contributed to an environment of trust as a leader on that campus. This young student spent her first semester at Ricks feeling a bit lonely and left out. She went home at Christmastime and talked to her parents about her feelings and even considered not returning to school for the next semester. Her parents encouraged her to continue her schooling, and her mother made a suggestion. She told her daughter to do something for someone each day that she was not required to do. This young woman followed her mother’s advice and eventually became an outstanding leader on campus and served as president of the Associated Women Students. President Bennion stated that it would be difficult to believe that this strong and accomplished young woman had ever felt discouraged and lonely. The transformation in that school environment for her began with simple acts of service.

At school, I got bullied and mocked for my beliefs. Because of that and other challenges, I felt like the world was crashing down on me. But my mother encouraged me to rely on the Atonement of Jesus Christ because He understands my pain and can bring me peace and comfort (see Doctrine and Covenants 19:23).

I decided to promise Heavenly Father that I would fast regularly. I asked Him to help me with my weaknesses and struggles, and He has been doing so ever since.

Fasting has brought me closer to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. I know They are always by my side, giving me strength to overcome my challenges and find true happiness. Jesus Christ is healing my wounds and helping me return to my Heavenly Father.
Vera R., 17, Brasília, Brazil