Gospel Story Finder

We needed these testimonies to remain strong in the Church, for we faced many trials. My mother would not allow us to be baptized, but she did not stop us from going to church. We faithfully attended church and seminary. I also suffered persecution at school from people I thought were my friends. It was difficult, but these experiences strengthened my testimony.
After seven months a missionary challenged us to fast with him for the purpose of being baptized. When we ended the fast, the missionaries came to my house and spoke with my mother. To our great joy, she gave her permission for my brother and me to be baptized.
Trials make us strong.

In her lifetime, Emmeline met and talked with six presidents of the United States. She spoke with two of these presidents in the White House on behalf of the Church. She hoped to lighten legislation against Latter-day Saints.

In January 1879, Emmeline and Zina Young Williams presented a message to members of Congress and to President Rutherford B. Hayes and his wife. Emmeline and Zina spoke against bills aimed to punish Church members in the Utah Territory for their religious beliefs. They also asked for consideration of wives and children who would be harmed by measures to send men to prison for participating in plural marriage.9 Emmeline wrote, “I thank God I was the first to represent our women in the Halls of Congress.”10

Seven years later, Emmeline traveled to Washington, DC, USA, with a similar purpose. She met with congressmen and senators. She talked with Rose Cleveland (the president’s sister and Acting First Lady) and then spoke with President Grover Cleveland himself. Emmeline and Dr. Ellen Ferguson represented the Latter-day Saint women of the Utah Territory and presented him a memorial plea urging fairness for the Saints in political matters.11

In these efforts, Emmeline was supported by leaders of the National Woman Suffrage Association, particularly by Susan B. Anthony, who greeted her warmly whenever they met and emphasized their common interest in improving the lives of women.12

After a disastrous earthquake in Europe, I visited camps where those displaced by the earthquake lived. I met many families living in tents. They didn’t know who I was or that the Church would bring assistance. But as I met with them, the very first thing they did was put something to eat or drink in my hands with smiles on their faces.

These people had lost everything. I was there to serve them. But they found it in their hearts to serve. This brought me joy and reminded me that one of the best ways to know Jesus Christ in a deep and profound way is to serve Him by serving God’s children.

In September 1938 I was 15 years old and lived in the little Swiss village of Gilly, between Geneva and Lausanne, in the Swiss canton of Vaud.
One day I returned home from school and found Mamma (Geneviève Emilie Pauline Gay) visiting with two young gentlemen, one from Canada and one from the United States. They were missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and were living in the nearby village of Nyon. My mother was helping them improve their French language skills. She told me that she was very happy to help, and I met them several times. Then one day Mamma told me that the young gentlemen had left Nyon. Over the years, Mamma and I wondered what had become of them.
I grew up, married, and moved to central France with my husband. In 1990 we were living in the small town of Beaumont in Puy de Dôme when by chance I came upon a magazine article in Le Point, a current affairs magazine. The article was called “Recenser l’humanité depuis Adam et Eve” (“To take a census of humanity since Adam and Eve”). It told about the work of genealogical research and baptism for the dead in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
As I read, I experienced a great shock that took me back more than half a century. For several days after reading the article, I felt unsettled, as if I must do something. I thought of my mother, who had always had much faith and goodwill toward other religions and had passed away in 1978. I also thought of my father, who had died in 1937.
Finally, I wrote a letter to Mr. Patrick Coppin, director of acquisitions for the Genealogical Society of Utah, who had been mentioned in the article. I asked if the names of my mother and father might be included in the genealogy of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and if they could receive the blessings of the Church. I included my parents’ birth, marriage, and death dates.
I also included something else: the names and addresses of Elder Brigham Y. Card of Cardston, Alberta, Canada, and Elder Jay Lees of Salt Lake City. They had written their names and addresses on the back of a photograph they had given my mother 52 years earlier.
Three weeks later, I received a letter from Elder Card telling me it would be his joy to act as proxy in the temple ordinances for my mother and father. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I read his letter, but it took me several days to realize what this meant for my parents. On 28 June 1990, my parents were baptized, endowed, and sealed in the Jordan River Temple, with Elder Card and his wife, daughter, and son-in-law acting as proxies. My parents had received the blessings of the temple.

Our Sunday services were over, and I was looking forward to enjoying a beautiful, picture-perfect summer day with my family. After a morning of meetings and lessons, I began to focus on home and the menu I had planned for dinner.
As I approached my house, the thought came to me forcefully that I needed to visit Jennie,* an older widow. I felt a surge of guilt as I remembered that I hadn’t seen her at church for several weeks, and I wondered if there was something keeping her from the meetings. I quickly dismissed the idea, though, turning my thoughts to the fun of a Sunday meal with my husband and children.
After dinner, I had another nudge of conscience about Jennie. I tried to dismiss it once again, telling myself that since I had already spent many hours at church meetings, I deserved to spend the afternoon with my family. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get my mind off Jennie. Once again, the still, small voice whispered to me that I had to visit my neighbor.
I finally walked the short distance to Jennie’s home and rang the doorbell. A distraught Jennie answered the door. She burst into tears as she saw me. Then she softly said, “I’ve been praying that you would come.”
For the next hour I listened to Jennie as she sifted through several serious problems. Members of her family were undergoing some severe trials, and she had just learned of a divorce within the family. With the news of this latest family crisis, Jennie was finding it difficult to cope. She had been praying desperately for a listening ear, and the Spirit had been trying to get me to her.
My visit with Jennie taught me some valuable lessons. I saw that no time or day is off-limits for serving the Lord or his children. He expects us to follow the urgings of the still, small voice of the Spirit, for it is often through us that the Lord answers our neighbors’ prayers.

But Brother Ng’s search for truth had started years earlier. His grandmother, a Buddhist, had begun attending Christian churches shortly before her death, and Brother Ng often accompanied her. “I was looking for a god who was different than the one I’d been taught about while growing up,” he remembers. “But the pastors and preachers at those meetings were difficult to approach, and they were more concerned with donations than with answering my questions.”
Brother Ng’s questions went unanswered until he met the missionaries. “From the beginning, I learned about our Father in Heaven and his son, Jesus Christ. The missionaries taught of our relationship to these beings. And they continually talked of being children of God,” he remembers.

How Magrina Sam Aiten came to be endowed in the Manila Philippines Temple illustrates the distances, both physical and cultural, Micronesians often cross when coming to the Lord. While living in Chuuk (or Truk), she was visited by the missionaries. When she asked them a question about Joseph Smith, “their answer touched my heart, and I asked them to give me the discussions.”

Reading the Book of Mormon gave her a testimony of the gospel, but her testimony alienated her from her husband. He resented the missionaries’ visits. When the elders taught Magrina about fasting, she decided that her first fast would be for her husband. “I felt the Spirit, and my husband’s heart was softened.” He allowed the missionaries to continue meeting with Magrina and the children. “After one month, he joined us,” Magrina says. “In January 1986, I, my husband, and our oldest child were baptized.”

Her mother also felt unhappy about her association with the Church. “My Mom didn’t want me to join and said that if I did I wouldn’t be her daughter anymore.” In a society that values family relationships more than personal preferences, that was a difficult thing to hear. “But I told my kids to pray for Mom.” After three months, her mother came to Magrina’s home and stayed the weekend.

On Monday, the family had family home evening. “Mom was really quiet,” Magrina says. “My daughter gave the closing prayer, and after we finished, all the kids hugged her and kissed her. She had tears in her eyes, and she said, ‘Maybe this is a good way to raise your kids. They are sure different from you when you were little.’ I said that’s right; I didn’t know how to pray. But my children know how to conduct themselves.”

Not long after that, Magrina moved to Saipan, some 1,300 kilometers away. Saipan is something of a melting pot. A large island (23-by-8 kilometers) in the northern Marianas, it serves as home—and home away from home—for people from all over the Pacific and from as far away as the United States and Europe. The Japanese have made it a popular tourist destination, and Filipinos and Koreans come to work in its textile factories. Islanders from other parts of Micronesia have found it attractive as a place where the life-style is halfway between Micronesian traditional and Western contemporary.

On Saipan, Magrina met Jim and Julie Ellis, mainland Americans living on the island. Jim was her home teacher, Julie her visiting teacher. In 1992, Jim encouraged Magrina to go to the temple. She wanted to go, but by then her husband had died and she had remarried. Her nonmember husband refused to let her go. Eventually, their disagreements led them to separate.

The day before she was to fly to Manila, her husband returned. “When he walked in the door and saw my face, he knew that I hadn’t changed my mind. I loved him, but I also loved my kids and wanted the best for them.” He consented to her trip—and even agreed to stop smoking and drinking in the house.

“So I went to the temple, and Sister Ellis went with me. I really felt the Spirit. Everything touched my heart.” While there, she had the temple work done for her first husband.

The book of Proverbs praises the woman of virtue as more precious than rubies. “Strength and honour are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in time to come. …

“Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her. …

“A woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised” (Prov. 31:25, 28, 30).

In Micronesia, there are many women worthy of such praise.

In the middle of August, my family had the opportunity to go through the Mount Timpanogos Utah Temple during the open house. Everything was so beautiful and peaceful. I felt very close to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.
While I was walking through the bride’s room, I paused for a moment and gazed into the mirror. As I looked, although I am just 14, I could see myself in the future, wearing a beautiful wedding gown and a big smile.
When I walked out of the room, I looked back for a quick second, remembering the woman in the mirror, and I knew this was the place where I was going to be married, in the temple, close to my Father in Heaven.

Upon my father’s death, my older sister, who was not a member of the Church, insisted that I come home. My mission president had given me permission to do so, but I felt my missionary work was too important to leave. And, I decided, my father would want me to stay. I prayed that Heavenly Father would help my sister understand. He answered my prayer. When I spoke to my sister on the telephone, her heart had changed. She was not angry with my decision and told me, “I know that your church is very important and that you are doing something good. I support you.”

It was a beautiful summer day in northern Alberta, Canada. I was 16 years old, and my dad had set me up with a great summer job at a goat farm. Every day I made the half-hour drive in his old pickup along the obscure, bumpy dirt roads that I doubt were on any map. I loved these drives as I cruised in silence due to the broken radio. The northern landscape is beautiful in the summer. There are forests, fields, and lakes that are virtually untouched by man. At times I would look around and feel like I was the only one around for miles and that all this was made just for me.
On one of these drives home after a long day of herding goats and fixing fences, my peaceful drive suddenly turned into a nightmare. It had rained the day before, and the familiar dirt roads had turned into washboard roads. I hit a few patches of consecutive bumps that shook my old truck around pretty good, and I knew I had to slow down. I shifted down and continued a little more cautiously toward home. Suddenly I hit a patch of bumps that didn’t stop. I could feel my truck losing control, and the rear end started to slide around. By the time I finally got traction, my truck was facing sideways, and I went tearing straight into the ditch.
I remember this almost like slow motion. I knew I was going off the road, and I knew that I was heading straight for a fence post. The only thing that went through my head was to cry out for help. As my truck caught air over the ditch, I cried out loud, “Heavenly Father, help!”
I landed hard, but I did not roll as far into the post as I had anticipated. I was a little shaken but otherwise uninjured. My truck would not start, and it was good and stuck in mud and tall grass. I climbed out and walked back up to the road. I looked around, hoping by some chance that there would be a farmhouse in sight. Nothing. This was before the age of cell phones, so there I was a 16-year-old girl completely alone on an obscure road in northern Alberta.
I began to pray to Heavenly Father and ask Him which way I should start walking to find help. I chose a direction that I thought might be good and began to walk. I had only just started when I received the distinct impression to go back and wait. I reasoned in my head: Wait? I have never once seen another vehicle on this road! What in the world would I be waiting for? Nevertheless, I felt calm and peaceful and knew that was the right thing to do. I stood on the side of the road and waited. Not five minutes later I heard a vehicle in the distance. Please let them stop, I pleaded in my head to Heavenly Father. The truck came into my view, and I simply stood there as it slowed in front of me.
An older, traditionally dressed Russian man and woman got out of their truck and surveyed my situation. I was a little cautious and did not know exactly what to expect from this couple. The wife smiled warmly and said in her thick accent: “It looks like you need some help.”
Her husband moved to the back of their truck and started to hook up a towing hitch. While her husband was hard at work, the wife told me how funny this situation was to them. That morning they had both had the feeling that they would need their tow hitch today, so they had put it in the back of their truck. They had kept it there all day and not needed it. They were now on their way home for the night when her husband decided to turn off the main roads and take the more scenic drive. That is when they came across me. She laughed at the coincidence of it all, but I was filled with the Holy Ghost testifying to me of my Father in Heaven’s awareness and love for me.
Once my truck was released from the mud and grass, it quickly started up again. The Russian couple and I parted ways. I did not drive far before I was overcome with tears of gratitude. I know that the Lord has rescued me many times throughout my life, both physically and spiritually. I know that He was aware of my needs in advance in order to prepare this couple to come and help me. I also know it was the right thing to do to call out for His help as I was going off the road because He heard and answered my frantic prayer.
That the Lord has power enough to move mountains and part seas and yet still cares for little me enough to prompt an old Russian couple to come help me pull my truck out of the ditch is witness to me of God’s love and personal level at which He works.

Illustrations by Kevin Keele
Parker liked lots of things—music, art, rocks with cool shapes. But his favorite thing was riding his dirt bike. He loved racing over hills on his bike. He wanted to be the best racer ever!
But no matter how hard he tried, he never was. As he zoomed over dirt hills and across winding trails, it looked like he wouldn’t be best in this race either.
Parker crossed the finish line and braked to a stop, kicking up a cloud of dust behind him. He heard his family cheering as he squinted up at the scoreboard. Parker felt his stomach clench. Eighth place.
“You did great!” Dad said, clapping Parker on the back.
“No, I didn’t!” Parker dumped his helmet on the ground.
“Last time you got 10th,” Mom said. “You’re doing better every time.”
“It doesn’t matter!” Parker almost shouted. “I’ll never get anywhere close to winning.” He threw his gloves on the ground too.
“Cumulus,” Mom said.
Cumulus was the code word that helped Parker calm down. When Mom or Dad said that word, Parker closed his eyes, pictured a big puffy cloud, and did the breathing exercises Mom and Dad had taught him.
Usually it worked. Parker didn’t really want to think of clouds right now. But he closed his eyes anyway. He breathed in for five seconds. He held it for five seconds. And then he breathed out for five seconds. He did it over and over until he felt a little better.
When they got home, Parker tried to calm himself down by playing the piano. He sat down at the piano and started playing a song he knew. He liked it when he could play it perfectly. But today he messed up at the end. Parker slammed his fist onto the keys. The jarring notes rang in his ears.
Mom came in from the other room. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t do anything right,” Parker said.
Mom sat down on the piano bench and put her arm around Parker’s shoulders. “I’m sorry you feel so frustrated today.” She picked up the Book of Mormon on top of the piano. “One of my favorite scriptures is Ether 12:27. Can we read it together?”
She turned to the right page and handed it to Parker.
“My grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me,” Parker read. “For if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.”
Mom smiled. “I like that promise. It reminds me that Jesus Christ can help me with my weaknesses.”
Parker nodded. He liked that promise too.
“You know, you are good at so many things,” Mom said. “But something you struggle with is being patient with yourself. It takes time to learn and grow and get better. And it’s OK to not be the best at something.” Mom gave Parker a hug. That made him feel a little better.
“Heavenly Father and Jesus can help you be patient with yourself,” Mom said. “With piano and dirt bike.”
The next day, Parker tried playing a new song. The first part was easy, but he kept messing up in the middle. He was almost ready to throw his music book on the floor, but he stopped. He pictured fluffy white clouds and breathed slowly in and out.
It’s OK, Parker told himself. He could be patient and kind to himself. He looked at the picture of Jesus on the piano and thought of the promise his mom had read. I’m getting a little better every day.

Then Jolene asked Todd to help her in the nursery at church. After high school graduation, Jolene had been called to be a nursery leader. One Sunday, when the other nursery leader was going to be out of town, Jolene asked Todd to help her. This was going to be good.

There were 14 children in the nursery. When I came by the nursery after Todd’s first Sunday, I almost felt sorry for him. He had several wet streaks down his suit coat, his tie was flipped over his shoulder, and he had what looked like the remains of an animal cracker stuck in his hair. I could see a perfect half-moon of tiny teeth reddening on his hand.

“Man, those kids are monsters,” he said. “They wouldn’t sit still for the lesson, they just stared at me when I asked the questions, and they spent most of the time crying.”

The next week the bishop called Todd to be a nursery leader. I thought Todd would turn him down flat, but he surprised me. He accepted the calling. Then I realized it meant more time with Jolene Sparks.

Still, even Jolene was not enough to induce him to take on the nursery one Sunday morning. Todd limped around the house trying to call Jolene to tell her he couldn’t make it; he’d beaten up his leg on a mountain biking trip on Saturday. He’d just hung up the phone after trying to call when Jolene called him.

He hung up the phone, panic all over his face.

“You gotta help me, Marce,” he said. “Jolene had to go out of town to her cousin’s farewell. I’m gonna have to go to the nursery, but I need your help.”

I’d heard that song before—all nine verses—usually when Todd’s allergies flared up or he had a headache. Work or responsibility often brought out terrible illness in Todd. But he did have a legitimate bruise on his shin, so I begrudgingly pitched in.

“I’m not doing all of it, Todd, just helping out. Don’t get me in there, ditch me and run,” I told him. “Even if you could run.” I scrambled to find pictures and the lesson manual. Then I found a box of Scottie’s goldfish crackers and made up some salt clay in five different colors.

When we got to church, Todd said, “You didn’t have to go to all that trouble. They’re just kids.”

I glared at him as he hobbled down the hall. What did he do in there every week? Just sit and stare at the children? I got things set up for the lesson, and the children started coming in.

Todd sat in a chair wincing and rubbing his leg while I set out the snack of fish crackers and tiny cups of water.

“Hey, Marce. Aren’t these lessons a waste of time?” Todd said. “I mean, those kids don’t have a clue, do they?” He pulled up his pant leg to inspect his bruise again.

“Man, this really hurts.”

Tara gathered her crackers in her paper towel, her favorite blanket in her other hand, and approached Todd. She handed him her crackers, carefully putting them one by one, into his palm, then stood with her thumb in her mouth, holding the tired-looking piece of cloth, staring at Todd. Scottie and two other boys, curious, came over too.

“You got a owie?” Tara asked. She poked his leg gently. Tara then laid “blankie” on Todd’s leg and wrapped it clumsily around it. Then she kissed his knee and said, “All better.”

The other children found a puzzle to play with, but Tara sat near Todd, playing with a toy cash register, occasionally patting Todd’s leg. “Don’t cwy,” she said, as though Todd were continually on the verge of bursting into tears.

I looked at Todd.

“You can’t tell me they don’t understand the lessons,” I said. “Those children probably understand service and empathy for others better than a lot of adults.”

Todd didn’t say anything but nodded, a stunned look on his face.

When nursery was over, Tara’s mother and brother came to get her.

“Where’s your blankie?” she asked.

Tara pointed to Todd.

“It’s on his owie.” Tara went out the door with her big brother.

Tara’s mother looked startled.

“She must really like you,” she told Todd. “She drags that blanket with her wherever she goes. I can’t even get it in the washer because she won’t let go of it.”

I played a Nephite girl in the Mormon Miracle Pageant in Manti, Utah. When Jesus visits the righteous Nephites in the pageant, the children get to sit by Him and be taught by Him.
On the last night of the pageant, my group was assigned to go up to Jesus. I wanted to be the child to sit on the knee of the man playing the part of Jesus as he taught the children. I planned to walk quickly up the pageant steps where the man sat so I could sit on his knee. When it was time for the children to walk up to him, I tried to hurry, but my little brother Benjamin took my hand and said, “Wait for me. I want to be close to Jesus too.”
I listened to the Holy Ghost and held my brother’s hand and helped him so he could sit close to the man playing Jesus. Many children were able to get in front of us, so I didn’t get to sit on his knee. I was very sad and told my mom. She said that our Savior, Jesus Christ, is very pleased with me for helping my brother. The next day my mom asked the man who dressed up as Jesus if I could sit on his knee for a picture, and he said yes.

It had been an unusually warm day in Lüneburg, Germany, and Elder Kevin Pepper and I were tired. Our last appointment ended at 9:00 P.M., and we had a half hour more to work before returning to our apartment. It was too late for knocking on doors, so we got on our bikes and rode to Lüneburg’s central shopping district. Most of the shops had closed three hours earlier, and the busy daytime crowds were gone—leaving only a few window-shoppers enjoying the evening, in no hurry to get anywhere.
We pushed our bikes slowly, stopping now and then to ask fellow pedestrians if they would like to know something about the restored gospel. No one was interested. And this was typical. Germany was considered a “hard mission.” Few baptisms. Lots of knocking on doors and stopping pedestrians. People were usually polite, but they were cautious about anything new, for the most part unwilling to consider a change in religions.
We reached the far end of the street at about 9:25. Time to head for our apartment. But there in the evening shadows, leaning against a wall, was a man with thinning hair and a somewhat straggly beard. I looked at Elder Pepper; he looked at me. We were tired, we’d had no success that day, and I could tell we were thinking the same thought. One of us may have even spoken it aloud: “He’s probably just like the rest of the people we’ve talked to today. Let’s go home.” But something inside me said, “Go talk to him.”
We approached the man and asked if he knew anything about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He didn’t. Would he like to learn something about it? Yes, he said, and he gave us his address.
When we visited Alfred Kliche later that week, we discovered he was markedly different from most of the people we talked with. He was more reserved, more serious than most, but also more open-minded. He was searching for something. As he later put it, “I was considering becoming acquainted with other people who, like me, had not yet lost their faith in God.” He showed us a book he was reading, a book from an Eastern religion. We taught him about Joseph Smith and gave him a book of our own. He accepted it with reserved curiosity and said he’d read it.
We left after that first discussion not knowing quite what to think about Herr Kliche. Personally, I doubted he’d read the book. The first year of my mission—a year with no baptisms and plenty of disappointments—had left its mark on me. I’d seen enough “reality” to dilute my hopes with a fair dose of skepticism. But Herr Kliche invited us back, and when we came to teach him again, he told us he had read a good deal in the Book of Mormon. He said he particularly enjoyed the Isaiah chapters in 2 Nephi. During my 10 months in Germany, no one had ever made that claim before. In fact, I don’t recall having heard it in the 23 years since.
We taught Herr Kliche all through an unusually hot July and into August. He made slow, steady progress but seemed in no hurry to make any permanent changes in his life. Elder Pepper and I didn’t really know what was going on inside him. He was as indecipherable as the Eastern religious book he had shown us.
Then one day in early August a letter came from the mission office. I was being transferred. Elder Pepper and I had a few good investigators by this time, and it was hard to leave them. I wondered what would happen. But immersing myself in a new area and in the lives of a new group of investigators and members took all my attention and left me little time to worry about Lüneburg.
One day several weeks after the transfer, however, I received a phone call from Elder Pepper. He told me Herr Kliche was getting baptized on 16 October, and he wanted me to be there. Since my transfer had been merely to the other side of the Hamburg stake, our mission president gave me permission to attend.
Elder Pepper told me over the phone that Herr Kliche had made slow, steady progress for the most part, but in the end he completely surprised them. The missionaries had given him a baptismal challenge on 21 September, and he had accepted. But on 28 September he was concerned. He believed he had received a witness but wanted to be sure. Then, a few days later, everything seemed to fall apart. Herr Kliche informed them he wasn’t interested in meeting with them anymore. Elder Pepper and Elder Hardy were devastated. Where had they gone wrong? What could they do?
But on 3 October something unexpected happened. Elder Pepper recorded in his journal: “Herr Kliche came to church this morning. … The Spirit was so strong that everyone in the tiny chapel could feel it, especially Herr Kliche. He sat in the second row to the left all by himself. … With tears in his eyes he stood and bore his testimony. The sun shone through the large windows, and a beam of light appeared to shine directly on him as he bore a simple and beautiful testimony. It was so sincere. He said he felt fulfilled in this Church and hoped to become a member soon. Just seven weeks or so ago he was ready to give up his search for the truth; he didn’t see any reason why he should change churches, because they were all about the same. And now the Spirit of Truth has helped him see the difference, and he wants to be a member. I was so thrilled I could hardly keep the joy I felt inside. Today will always be a cherished memory.”
Ironically, four days later Elder Pepper was transferred to Kiel and was unable to attend the baptism. But on 16 October 1976, my companion and I took the subway into Hamburg, walked to the stake center, and there witnessed the baptism of Alfred Kliche, a rare and gratifying event in the course of a difficult mission. I have kept in touch with Bruder Kliche over the years. Indeed, his conversion, because it was complete and enduring, has brought me much joy.
The little Lüneburg Branch was dissolved a few years after Bruder Kliche’s baptism, and the members were absorbed into a Hamburg ward. Bruder Kliche, always solid in the gospel, has served in the bishopric and on the stake high council. He also married a fine Latter-day Saint, and after several years they served a temple mission together. “I am here to serve the Lord,” he wrote me recently, “and to make progress. We are very thankful for our time in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
As I look back to that summer evening in 1976, I am glad Elder Pepper and I were not too tired to talk to just one more son of our Heavenly Father. We almost didn’t, and it has been a lesson to me ever since. Had we quit a few minutes early, what a loss it would have been—for us, for the Church, and, most of all, for Bruder Kliche.

Star tugged at her clothes. It still felt strange to wear a dress to church. In her old church the girls wore pants or shorts on Sunday. But not in her new church. She and her mom had just been baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Star sighed as she looked in the mirror. She was excited to go to church for the first time as an official member, but she was also nervous. Before, she stayed with Mom the whole time at church. But this time she was going to Primary.
Star blinked at her reflection. What if she didn’t fit in? What if the other kids didn’t like her?
“Star? Are you ready?” Mom called.
Star walked downstairs. “Do I look OK?” she asked.
Mom smiled. “You look beautiful.”
Star made a face. “You have to say that. You’re my mom.”
“You’re right. I do have to say that. Because it’s true.”
Star gave a small smile. Mom always had a way of making her feel better. But there were still butterflies in her stomach. What if none of the other kids wanted to talk to her? She had friends at school, but they weren’t members of her new church. She wished she had even one friend going to church with her.
“I just remembered something I have to do,” she told Mom.
She ran back upstairs and knelt by her bed. “Dear Heavenly Father, please help me make friends. I believe what the missionaries taught is true, but I’m scared.”
Star stayed on her knees and listened. After a moment she felt a sweet, peaceful feeling, and she wasn’t so nervous anymore.
At church Star and Mom sat by a family with three little girls. The parents introduced themselves and started talking with Mom before the meeting started. Star helped the girls color a picture of Jesus.
Bishop Andrews made his way toward them. “Sister Cunningham! Star! It’s good to see you today.” He gave them each a warm smile and a handshake. Star had forgotten how nice everyone at church was. Maybe she would make a friend after all.
After sacrament meeting Star went to Primary. She glanced at the other kids nervously as she sat down. They were talking to each other and didn’t seem to notice her. Star’s heart sank. She’d be on her own after all.
Just then a girl Star’s age walked into the room. “She looks nervous too,” Star thought. “I could go talk to her.”
Star took a deep breath, then walked over to the girl. “Hi, my name is Star. I’m new. Would you like to sit by me?” Star held her breath. Would the girl want to be her friend?
The girl’s mouth turned up in a half-smile. “I’m Sarah. I’m new too. My family just moved here from Ontario.”
“My mom and I were baptized two weeks ago,” Star said. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do.”
Sarah’s smile grew wider. “We’ll figure it out together.”
Star and Sarah sat with their class. Sometimes Star caught Sarah’s eye and smiled. Sarah smiled back. Star felt calm and happy. She knew that Heavenly Father had answered her prayer and helped her find a friend.
In class the teacher asked Star and Sarah to introduce themselves.
Star stood up. “My name is Star Cunningham. My mom and I were baptized two weeks ago.” She paused, and a smile grew on her face as she looked at her new friend. “And this is my friend Sarah.”

I can share with you a simple example from my own life of what parents can do. When I was about five or six years old, I lived across the street from a small grocery store. One day two other boys invited me to go with them to the store. As we stood coveting the candy for sale there, the older boy grabbed a candy bar and slipped it into his pocket. He urged the other boy and me to do the same, and after some hesitation we did. Then we quickly left the store and ran off in separate directions. I found a hiding place at home and tore off the candy wrapper. My mother discovered me with the chocolate evidence smeared on my face and escorted me back to the grocery store. As we crossed the street, I was sure I was facing life imprisonment. With sobs and tears, I apologized to the owner and paid him for the candy bar with a dime that my mother had loaned me (which I had to earn later). My mother’s love and discipline put an abrupt and early end to my life of crime.

Why did I suddenly decide to be baptized? Because I realized the night of the sixth lesson that a burning bush was not the right thing to look for. I realized that by looking for a burning bush I was missing something just as important. Perhaps the answer lay in the simple things that had been happening to me.
I thought back to the week before we had decided to be baptized. We had once again arrived late to Church. To dispel the awkwardness of the situation, a very young man, Eddie Markle, had welcomed us with a simple handshake. At that moment I sensed in him a faith so strong that I was deeply impressed. It was the kind of faith spoken of by Jesus to Thomas: “Thomas, because thou hast seen me, thou hast believed; blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed.” (John 20:29.) I decided I wanted that kind of faith.
I realized my previous experiences had impressed me in a similar way, but, because of my desire for a miraculous conversion, I had failed to recognize the promptings of the Spirit. My encounters with members of the Church had not been spectacular, but yet they had been very significant.
Each person had—in his own way—displayed a strong yet simple faith: Dick Reisner had planted the seed; Dennis Hill had sent the book; the missionaries had knocked on my door; President Pressler had waited for us that first Sunday; Elder Richards had delivered an inspiring message; Eddie Markle had eased an awkward moment with a handshake. Each person—through his example—had let the powerful light of his testimony shine forth. And to me, having been in darkness, each example was as “the bright shining of a candle” (Luke 11:36), bringing me to a testimony of the truth.

I was never the most popular girl in my school, but I had tons of good friends, people to talk to and trust. Most of the students at school, including some of my friends and I, made fun of a girl in my class because she was different. We would tease her and call her names. We thought she looked funny, so we were just using her to entertain ourselves.
One Friday night some of my friends and I were at a friend’s house. We stayed up late talking, and we started talking about this girl. Then one of my friends said that she used to be friends with this girl and that she was made fun of last year, too. She told us that when they were friends, this girl used to call her on the phone every day after school. She said that sometimes it sounded like she was crying.
This made me think twice about how this girl must have felt. So I decided to stop making fun of her. That next week, instead of saying something mean or laughing at her, I would smile at her. After a few weeks, we began saying hi to each other in the halls. The next month we started talking more. We became very good friends.
One day we were walking to the bus, and this girl looked at me and said, “You mean the world to me, and I am so glad you’re my friend because you’re so nice to me. You respect me for who I am, and you make me so happy. You give me a reason to come back to school every day.”
After she told me this, I couldn’t speak. All I could do was say thanks and think about how much our friendship meant to her. It made me feel like someone out there loved me and respected me for how I acted toward them. It made me feel like I was worth something.

But through their eight years of marriage, it seemed that María Teresa was continually begging him to give the church one more chance. “I continued crying and arguing with him,” she says. “Then one day, he got tired of it, packed his bags, and left!”

Now she was alone with her three children—alone in the beautiful home Carlos had designed and built himself. And she had plenty of time to think.

Fortunately, Carlos returned home two days after leaving in that fit of anger. And soon afterward, something happened that changed María’s heart—and her feelings toward her husband.

“We got our first patriarch in Paraguay, and I asked for my patriarchal blessing,” she remembers. “In it, the Lord assured me that if I magnified my callings as wife, mother, and daughter of God—along with my other callings in the Church—everything would be all right. The Lord promised me that He would touch my husband’s heart, and that we would go to the temple and be sealed. I was told to cry no more about it. (How could the patriarch have known that I had spent the entire previous day crying about it?)”

When she told Carlos about her blessing, he scoffed, telling her those things would never happen. “But I had great faith and hope in my patriarchal blessing,” she says. “From that moment, I never again pleaded with him about the Church. Instead, I began to do what my patriarchal blessing told me to do.”

She made her home a lovely, happy place, trying to be a good example of what she believed. She kept the Sabbath day holy, fulfilled her Church callings, and took the children with her to the meetings and activities. “I fasted and prayed for Carlos,” she says. “The children and I held family home evenings, always inviting him to join us. In family prayer, we prayed that someday he would accept the gospel. But when it was Carlos’s turn to pray, he would ask the Lord to never let him lose his own faith or stray from his own church!”

María was also preparing Carlos for the day when he would begin to pay his tithing. “I asked him to give me 10 percent of his extra income. Then I paid my tithing with it. I was helping him get used to living without the 10 percent.”

One Thursday morning, while preparing breakfast, María had a strong feeling that she should fast and pray that Carlos would listen to the missionaries again. “At that very moment, I began my fast,” she says.

Amazingly, two missionaries dropped in for a visit that afternoon. “It had been a long time since missionaries had come to our home,” she says. “I told them I was fasting that very day for Carlos. They said, ‘Sister, we will fast with you. And we are going to baptize your husband! When can we come back?’”

María asked them to return the following Monday evening, because that was the only day Carlos didn’t go to one of his clubs after work. On Monday, she and the two missionaries began another fast. She hadn’t told Carlos anything about the appointment she had made.

When Carlos came home from work that day, he announced that he was going to the club to play tennis. “I felt so disillusioned?” says María. “He never played tennis on Mondays. And I was sure he wouldn’t return until very late. I didn’t know how to ask him to stay. So he went.”

At 6:30 P.M., the missionaries came. Crying with embarrassment and disappointment, María explained that Carlos wasn’t home. “We are fasting for him!” she said. “How could it have turned out this way?”

Meanwhile, the person Carlos had arranged to play tennis with didn’t show up. And neither did anybody else! “There was nobody to play with,” he remembers. “It was very strange. So I went home.”

The missionaries were still there—and, for some reason, Carlos felt like talking to them. That started six months of serious studying.

It was a difficult six months. “When the missionaries were teaching him,” María says, “the Spirit was there. But when they left, the Spirit seemed to leave—and Carlos was left to himself. I fasted for him often.”

“A Uruguayan elder who taught me had a character just like mine,” says Carlos. “We had lots of discussions. I would ask hard questions, he would answer me, and I would try to refute him. I enjoyed discussing the gospel like that. I wanted the direct message, and he helped clarify lots of things.

“Then I decided to do my part and see what would happen,” he says. “I stopped smoking—I used to smoke two packs of cigarettes a day. I stopped drinking. I bought some Catholic books, studied them all, and talked with my uncle who was a Catholic priest. Then I got a book about LDS Church history.” He took some time off work, hoping to find a quiet place to study and meditate.

Then, as if on cue, a relative called and offered the Roigs the use of her house for two weeks—a quiet place in the country. It was just the retreat he needed. “I sat down and read and prayed,” says Carlos. “I read the history and the doctrine. By that time, I had already accepted the fact that this must be true. I just needed to make the decision.
“But there was something within me that was keeping me from it. I wondered what the problem was. One night in my bedroom, I had the Bible and Book of Mormon open. And I found a scripture that says that if we want to come to the Lord, we must ask forgiveness from those we’ve offended. (See 3 Ne. 12:23–24.) That scripture really made me think. Whom had I offended?”

Suddenly, he knew what he had to do. “There was something in my life that I needed to confess and repent of. But because of my fear of losing my family and losing everything, I had kept it to myself. Now I knew that I would have to repent completely and sincerely. I believed in Christ, and at that moment I was illuminated with the truth that I hadn’t accepted before—that Joseph Smith was a prophet. And I was also illuminated with all that had to do with the gospel. At that moment, my heart broke.
“So I went to my wife and said, `You’re going to cry. And it’s going to be hard.’ I knew in my heart that I could lose everything, including my family. But I couldn’t keep quiet. It was hard, but María accepted my repentance.
“Her understanding, love, and faithfulness have changed everything in me,” he says. “I remembered Saul of Tarsus, who changed totally after the Lord came to him. That’s how it has been with me—a 180-degree change.”
Carlos was baptized soon afterwards, on 14 February 1984. A year later, he and María and their children were sealed in the São Paulo Temple. “My wife’s patriarchal blessing has been fulfilled,” he says.
Another promise was also fulfilled. Years earlier, when Verónica was born, María took her to Church to be blessed. “A missionary told me, ‘When this baby is eight years old, your husband will baptize her.’” Verónica was seven when her dad joined the Church; he baptized her the following year.
Right after his baptism, Carlos was called as a counselor in the Sunday School presidency. Six months later, he became elders quorum president. A year after baptism, he was called to the high council. After another six months, he became bishop. Four years after being baptized, he became president of the Asunción Paraguay Stake. Continuing to serve in that calling, Carlos has now spent more than half of his time in the Church as stake president.
Church membership has brought some sacrifices. “When I was baptized, my father—a military officer—said, `You’re not my son anymore.’ I spoke to him with love and bore my testimony of the Church. But he rejected me and treated me as if I had betrayed my family. And my brothers and sisters distanced themselves from me.”
Carlos’s mother had studied the gospel privately, long before Carlos was baptized. She was converted and had set a baptismal date. “But my father wouldn’t permit it. He told her, ‘If you get baptized, you will never come back.’ So she wasn’t baptized before she died.”
Years later, his father became seriously ill, and Carlos spent many days and nights with him. “Before my father died, a Catholic priest came to do the last rites. But my father said, `I don’t want it. I’m with my son.’ The priest objected, ‘We need to do the prayer.’ But my father said, ‘No, I’m going to do it with Carlos.’ His last words before dying were, ‘Carlos, if I live, my life will change.’ When he said that, I realized that we should do the temple work for him and my mother. And we have done so.”
Carlos and María have five daughters and a son. Carolina is twenty-one and has married Gabriel Cella in the temple. Nathalia is seventeen, Verónica is fourteen, Marcelo is twelve, Sandra is six, and Andrea is four. “I remember those experiences when Dad wasn’t a member of the Church,” says Carolina. “Now, when I see my father, I often get very emotional. I thank my Heavenly Father.”
Nathalia agrees. “When Dad left home angry that day, we cried bitterly. I thought he would never return. We had always had a close family, and mother had always told us we could have an eternal family. So it was hard. But now I see him at the pulpit and giving counsel. It’s a miracle.”
After Sandra was born, the doctor advised María not to have more children. “But we prayed,” says President Roig, “and we both felt that our Father was saying, ‘You can have more.’ When María became pregnant, the doctor said she would lose the baby. But I gave her several priesthood blessings and fasted for her. Andrea was born without any problems. The doctor couldn’t believe it.”
The blessings have continued to multiply. “Every time on of our children was born,” he says, “I received more work in my profession, and my wages increased. My patriarchal blessing says that whatever goods I have, I should use them for the Lord. And the Lord blesses me with much.”
A year after Carlos joined the Church, he and María decided their house was too small for their growing family. So Carlos designed and built a new, larger home. It is beautiful and spacious—with lots of room for children and friends. Nathalia is practicing the piano in the living room. Verónica is doing homework at the dining room table. Marcelo is outside playing with Alfie, their cocker spaniel. And Sandra and Andrea are giving their dolls a party. Guests are treated like family here. A barbecue, a covered patio, a trampoline, and a swimming pool are out back. The garden is full of vegetables, pineapples, and sugar cane. And the trees are heavy with fruit: bananas, oranges, guavas, avocados, and mangos.
Carlos dedicated their home when it was finished. “A spirit of love and happiness reigns here,” he says. “We’re trying to comply with what the Lord wants. And all these things have been added to us, just as the scriptures say.
“These are really unimaginable blessings,” he says. He shudders when he realizes how close he came to losing—or giving up—everything. “I have no time for my social clubs now. Instead, we have our family gatherings. And I give most of my time to the Lord. While I’m driving, I’m thinking about the members of the stake and their problems. There’s lots to do. I wasted forty years of my life. Now I need to give Him my time.”
“Carlos is the best member of the Church I know,” says Sister Roig. “He magnifies his callings, he loves the gospel, and he’s the greatest defender I know of Jesus Christ and Joseph Smith.”

Sometimes people judge us for being members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and for being different. Last year I got bullied a lot by people at school. But I felt God’s help when others helped me defend myself from the bullies. It was like a shield of protection from God.
I prayed that I would be able to forgive the people who bullied me. I have forgiven them in my heart, and now I smile at them and say hello when I see them.
I like to help others, like my soccer teammates, not to judge people. I want others to see the whole picture of who I am and who others are.
Matthew H., Arizona, USA