Gospel Story Finder

Perhaps less visible than the Prophet’s father, but equally important in shaping and influencing his life, was his mother, Lucy Mack Smith. Although this strong woman gave occasional leadership, her primary role appeared to be support to the family. She gave birth to eleven children and endured faithfully as all but four preceded her in death. During her life, she watched six of her immediate family and one grandson die as a result of ruthless mob violence and persecution.
Lucy prepared herself early in her marriage to raise a prophet. On one occasion she became seriously ill, and the doctors said she would die. Lucy records that she “made a solemn covenant with God that if He would let me live I would endeavor to serve him according to the best of my abilities.” After a voice assured her that she would live, she told her mother, “The Lord will let me live, if I am faithful to the promise which I made to him, to be a comfort to my mother, my husband, and my children” (Lucy Mack Smith, History of Joseph Smith, ed. Preston Nibley [Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1958], pp. 34–35).
She gave continual encouragement, support, and strength to her son Joseph the Prophet. His mother was the first person with whom young Joseph shared some of his momentous experiences of the Sacred Grove. Years later, he shared with her the joy and relief he felt when the Lord allowed others to view the sacred plates of gold. Lucy wrote that “Joseph threw himself down beside me, and exclaimed, … ‘You do not know how happy I am: the Lord has now caused the plates to be shown to three more besides myself. They have seen an angel, … and they will have to bear witness to the truth of what I have said, for now they know for themselves, that I do not go about to deceive the people, and I feel as if I was relieved of a burden which was almost too heavy for me to bear’” (Lucy Mack Smith, History of Joseph Smith, p. 152).
The Prophet’s mother shared also in his sorrows, sufferings, and persecutions. One time a mob took Joseph and his brother Hyrum prisoner and threatened to shoot them. The two brothers were confined under a cloth cover in a wagon. Their courageous mother risked her life and forced her way through the hostile mob to comfort her sons. Joseph and Hyrum could not see their mother and could only extend a hand from under the confining cover. As Lucy’s hand and the hands of her sons touched, the wagon drove off, literally tearing the sorrowing mother from her two sons.
Her determination to testify to the restoration of the gospel may have led her to dictate her well-known History of Joseph Smith. This was a major undertaking in her day. The book’s importance to the Church today is immeasurable! It contains many details of the Prophet Joseph’s life that might never have been known otherwise. It stands as a monument to the devotion of Lucy Mack Smith and her family.
Like great parents of all ages, Lucy turned to prayer for divine help to sustain her family. During the march from Ohio to Missouri known as Zion’s Camp, Joseph and Hyrum were seriously ill with cholera, and their lives were almost taken. At one point, “Hyrum sprang to his feet and exclaimed, ‘Joseph, we shall return to our families. I have had an open vision, in which I saw mother kneeling under an apple tree; and she is even now asking God, in tears, to spare our lives. … The Spirit testifies, that her prayers … will be answered’” (Lucy Mack Smith, History of Joseph Smith, p. 229).
In the exercise of agency and in the divine providence of God, Lucy’s sons Joseph and Hyrum ultimately sealed their testimonies with their blood. As the grieving mother looked upon their lifeless remains, she cried, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken this family!” As a kind blessing to a faithful mother, the Lord softened her grief and granted to her the peace that only God can bestow. A voice spoke to her soul: “I have taken them to myself, that they might have rest” (Lucy Mack Smith, History of Joseph Smith, p. 324).

Since joining the Church, I have had many opportunities to serve my brothers and sisters in various callings, many in leadership positions. I always believed my purpose in life was to serve others and not myself. However, that changed 10 years ago, when one Christmas, I was rushed to the hospital because my kidneys stopped working. The doctor in the emergency room told my family that my condition was so severe that they weren’t sure if I would make it through the night and that they should be prepared for the bad news. I spent three days in intensive care, but thanks to the Savior’s mercy, I was moved to a regular room on the third day and stayed in the hospital for 15 days. My kidneys didn’t recover, and I became a chronic kidney patient, now requiring dialysis three times a week.
I remember pouring out my heart in prayer to Heavenly Father, asking Him to give me more time to see my children serve missions. The Lord heard my plea, and I was able to leave the hospital. I have been fortunate to see my two sons go forth to serve the Lord.
Five years ago, I faced another health challenge. Doctors found a malignant tumor in my colon, and I had to undergo emergency surgery to remove 25 centimeters (10 in) of my transverse colon. During that time, I lost more than 15 pounds (7 kg) in two months. The chemotherapy treatments were so harsh on my body that I became extremely weak and couldn’t eat. Again, my family was told to prepare for the worst. I prayed if it was His will, I still wanted to see my youngest son go on his mission. A miracle happened by God’s great love, and I made it through. The tumor was removed entirely, and my youngest son is currently serving in the Maracaibo Venezuela Mission and is happy to share the gospel and help bring souls unto Christ.
Last December, I had an accident. I fell on the street and broke my hip on both sides and my right arm. This has been one of my greatest trials because it kept me in bed, and I couldn’t walk for more than seven months. They put a hip prosthetic on one side, and the doctor decided to wait until I could walk before they put the other one in. I am still struggling with this challenge today, but I’m not facing it alone. I know my Savior has been by my side every day and always will be. This time, I prayed to help me regain my health so I could continue to enjoy the blessings of going to the temple and serving others. Many people have come to support and assist me. I’ve learned to be humble, recognize my weaknesses, and accept the service they have given me.
I have a testimony of the Savior’s love, of His mercy. I testify that He answers prayers, and through faith, He sustains us in the most challenging times. I testify to the power of the priesthood, which blesses people’s lives. I know we are on this earth to be tested, serve, and love people. I testify that miracles have never ceased to happen—I am an example of those miracles. Because of those miracles, I am still on this earth to testify of Him.

“By our standards the villagers of San Gabriel had very little, but they gave beyond their means. We were constantly showered with gifts of flowers, food, and mementos. But our first realization of how much they cared was exemplified by a six-year-old girl. As we were leaving the village after our fourth visit, young Cielo ran up to us with a bouquet of flowers. Before she could speak she burst into tears. After moments of surprise and confusion we were told that she had to return to school the next week and would not be able to attend our lessons again. Her unexpected display of emotion touched us deeply. As we tried to hold back our own tears, we assured her that we would visit her on Sunday.
“There were other such incidents during those weeks that also left lasting impressions, but our final visit was a fitting climax. As we sat in that humble, one-room chapel for the last time and felt the rain trickle in through the leaking roof, we were moved. We couldn’t hold back the tears as the members presented each of us with an onyx necklace they had made themselves. Through her tears one sister commented, ‘The chapel cries too because you must leave us!’
“As one man handed us each a box of candy, he earnestly asked us to convey the love of the Mexican people to the Saints in the United States.
“He wanted us to know that they too love the gospel. He wanted the world to know that Saints exist in San Gabriel.”
Carol Peterson, Fort Worth, TexasStana Smoot, Centerville, Utah

Johnny was unhappy. There was no one to play with him. Todd had gone to visit his grandmother. Scott was on a fishing trip with his father. Mother was in the kitchen making bread. Baby was asleep in his room.
It had rained yesterday, but now the sun had broken through the clouds. Johnny was anxious to go outside.
“May I go out to play?” Johnny asked Mother.
“Yes,” she answered, “but be back in time for lunch.”
Johnny pulled on his shoes and ran outside. He skipped down the sidewalk to a field of tall grass. Everything smelled fresh and new after the rain.
When Johnny reached the edge of the field, he turned a cartwheel and rolled to the bottom of the grassy slope.
Lying in the tall grass, Johnny pretended he was in a jungle.
Then he imagined he was in a forest in the mountains. Finally Johnny pretended he was a small worm squirming through the grass.
But playing all alone wasn’t much fun.
Johnny looked up at the sun. It seemed to be dancing through great white puffs of clouds.
The wind shaped the clouds into an elephant with big floppy ears and a long trunk.
Behind the elephant Johnny saw a fat bear dancing along with the sun, a boat, two fish, a dog, and a car.
The car reminded Johnny that Daddy would soon be home for lunch. Johnny looked up again at the sky. The car in the clouds was gone, but he could see Daddy’s car parked by his house.
Mother was putting the baby in the high chair as Johnny came into the house. The kitchen was full of good warm smells.
“I’m glad you’re back,” Mother smiled. “Were you lonely all by yourself in the field?”
“No,” Johnny answered happily, thinking about all the things in the clouds he had seen floating through the sky. “I found some new friends today!”

Recently, our grandson, Adam, was traveling with Sister Stone and me on a trip to California. About noontime we stopped for lunch. When the waitress brought the bill I didn’t pay very close attention and after she gave me my change, I realized that she had charged me for only two sandwiches instead of three.
I knew that the girl would be short at the end of the day, and there suddenly flashed into my mind the thought of how my father had taught me to be honest. I felt this was a good time to talk to Adam about honesty, and so we sat down and I explained what had happened. I told him we had a problem.
I said we could leave now and keep the extra change and no one would ever know the difference, or we could tell the girl that we still owed her for a sandwich. Our decision wasn’t at all difficult to make when we decided that if we kept money that did not belong to us that we would be breaking the commandment, “Thou shalt not steal.” We agreed that our Heavenly Father would be displeased with us and we would be unhappy too because we would know in our hearts that we had not been honest.
Adam and I approached the girl at the counter, and I explained to her that she had undercharged us and that we owed almost a dollar more. Her face flushed in embarrassment for a moment, and then she thanked us for telling her of the mistake. We continued on our way with a good feeling, and I am sure our Heavenly Father approved of what we had done.

It has touched for good the lives of millions who have prayerfully read it and pondered its language. May I tell you of one such I recently met in Europe.
He was a businessman, successful in his undertakings. In the course of his travels he met two of our missionaries. They tried to set up an appointment to teach him. He put them off but finally agreed to listen. He somewhat perfunctorily accepted what they had to say. He became convinced in his mind that they spoke the truth, but he was not moved in his heart.
He decided that he would read the Book of Mormon. He said that he had been a man of the world, never given to crying. But as he read the book, tears coursed his cheeks. It did something to him. He read it again and felt the same emotions. What had been conversion of the mind became conversion of the heart.
His way of life was altered, his perspective changed. He threw himself into the work of the Lord. Today he fills a high and holy calling in the cause he has come to love.

My friend Annika had been hanging out with me and my other Latter-day Saint friends for a few years. Because she spent so much time with us, she learned many things about our standards and what we believe in.
One night I was texting Annika about the gospel and decided it was the perfect opportunity to share my testimony with her. I also felt like I should invite her to come to church. I was a little nervous that she would say no, but I knew that I was doing the right thing and that it would be OK no matter what. I texted her my testimony and asked her to come to church, and she said yes!
The Sunday that Annika came to church, we were studying about the Godhead. She already knew most of the other youth in the class, so we all worked together to help her learn. If she didn’t understand something, we tried to explain it to her. This led to great discussions where most everyone was commenting. Because so many people were sharing ideas, Annika felt comfortable asking questions and got to hear pieces of her friends’ testimonies.
During the lesson, Annika was overwhelmed with joy and peace because she felt the Holy Ghost. She learned that Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost are three separate beings, and she learned a little bit about the plan of salvation. She also learned that Heavenly Father loves us so much that He sent His Son to earth to die for us, and she learned how much Christ loves us, because He atoned for us.
At the end of the lesson, my Sunday School teacher invited us to go home and look up scriptures that could help us learn more about the Godhead. I completed this assignment. Later, during a discussion with Annika and the missionaries, I talked about the scriptures I found.
It was a wonderful experience to watch Annika learn about Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost. It made me realize how many people don’t know about the Godhead. Just like Annika and I did, we can all grow closer to Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost when we learn more about Them.

The first books Doreen Huena wanted to read after she and her husband, Winceslas Huena, joined the Church in 1990 were the Book of Mormon and the Bible. With her baptism, she says, came a spiritual peace and a strong desire to study the scriptures for herself.

“I prayed and fasted that I would be able to read the Book of Mormon and Bible,” recalls Sister Huena, a counselor in the Popondetta Primary presidency. But because she had received only one year of formal schooling, “it was hard for me to read and understand the Lord’s words.” Through prayer, persistence, and help from the missionaries, she was soon reading and understanding the scriptures.

I have often pondered what it means to have a “broken” heart. When I was a boy, my uncle allowed me to help him break wild horses. We roped them, placed a strong leather halter on their heads, and attached a heavy rope to it. Then we cinched the rope around a solid wooden post sunk deep in the earth. The young colts hated the rope and would fight it for days, setting their legs defiantly in the ground and straining with all their might against it. But they hurt only themselves. In time they learned to accept the rope, and then gradually we could approach them and teach them to be led. When my uncle could lay the rope loosely over his open palm, turn his back, and walk away with the horse following him, he would say, “This horse is broken.”

Another friend of mine is a prominent corporation lawyer. For years he’s had trouble sleeping at night. An ardent fisherman, he decided one restless night that he would try making the flies that fishermen use. The next day he bought some inexpensive equipment. He went completely overboard on flytying. He enjoyed it even more than fishing. In the space of a few years he must have tied half a million of those things, and he was proud of every single one of them. He became an expert.

The New Era has given my family many uplifting moments. Thank you for choosing quality stories, poems, and songs. A special thanks for printing the song “Walk Tall, You’re a Daughter of God” in the April 1979 New Era. I would like to express a special thanks to Jamie Glenn and Raya Jones, who wrote the words and music. Their song affected one young woman deeply, and through her love for the Savior and this song, many lives have been touched.
My daughter, Shannon Clark, died one year ago today at the age of 16 from a rare type of bone cancer. But in her short time on earth she taught me how to live and how to die. I am so proud of her and shout for joy because she is eternally ours.
After the New Era printed “Walk Tall, You’re a Daughter of God,” our stake gathered together a special group of young women and taught them the song. My daughter and I heard them sing it at a stake Mutual event. This song touched Shannon deeply. She heard it again at girls’ camp that year. At the close of that camp an event took place which I shall remember as long as forever. We closed camp testimony meeting singing this wonderful song. As we sang “Walk Tall, You’re a Daughter of God,” Shannon and I embraced each other, crying and singing all at once. Thank you for that memory! I had less than a year left of holding my daughter. At the last she was in too much pain to be touched, and finally she was paralyzed so she couldn’t hug me anymore either.
We have a small organ at home, and as soon as Shannon could she had the New Era opened on the music rack trying to play “Walk Tall.” It was contagious. I had to have a go at it too. We never got good at it, but we enjoyed singing along as we struggled with the notes.
When the time came to plan my daughter’s funeral, I knew one song that had to be on the program. You guessed it. “Walk Tall, You’re a Daughter of God” was sung beautifully by the stake Young Women’s choir. Shannon’s funeral was held in her high school gymnasium to accommodate the large crowd. We attend a small LDS branch, so only a small percentage of those attending were members.
The special part of this story is how “our” song touched the lives of all those who attended that day.
Many nonmembers asked for copies, and I provided them. The Lake Chelan Christian Church Choir sang it at a special meeting with hundreds of people attending. A nonmember friend who attended later told me that many of her faith had been touched by the song. The keynote speaker at that meeting changed his topic to include references to the song.
Last June I couldn’t bring myself to attend girls’ camp, but the reports I have received are beautiful. Shannon’s group of fourth-year girls performed “Walk Tall, You’re a Daughter of God” at the first night fireside and dedicated it to my daughter. Every night thereafter they used “our song” as the closing song at the campfire meeting. The new Beehives did not know Shannon, but they could feel the Spirit as the tears flowed and the notes were sung.
I am lonely some days because not only did I give back to Heavenly Father my only daughter but also one of the best friends a woman could have. When I feel down I remember my favorite song and the words, “He’s closer than you know—reach up, He’ll take your hand.”
I hope this letter isn’t sad, because I’m not sad. I have two nice-looking sons and a loving husband. Life is good to me. And most important to me—I have an eternal family, if I but live worthy.
Thank you, Jamie and Raya, for using your God-given talents. If Shannon has any say in heavenly matters she has joined one of the heavenly youth choirs and they are singing “Walk Tall, You’re a Daughter of God.” I know your song will live eternally and will give strength to many more. You touched one 16-year-old, and that was just the tip of the iceberg. God bless you.
Roberta Clark
Manson, Washington

At the end-of-the-year basketball banquet, Frankie, Mark, and Jason, seized another opportunity to share their religion. They presented their coach with a gift, a Book of Mormon.
“We hope you’ll hold on to this book like you would hold on to a basketball,” read the inscription from the three boys.
The coach did more than that. Not only did he hold on to the book; he read it and believed it. Not long after he received his gift, he and his family were baptized.

Do you recall the experience of John Weightman from Van Dyke’s immortal, The Mansion? He lived a life of wretched selfishness. He gave only those coins which would be seen of men and honor thus accorded him. Then one night he dreamed that he visited the Celestial City. He was given a dilapidated, old house in which to live.
Feeling that this was unjust, because he felt he had lived a successful life, he inquired of the keeper of the Celestial City: “What is it that counts here?”
The answer was: “Only that which is truly given. Only that good which is done for the love of doing it. Only those plans in which the welfare of others is the master thought. Only those labors in which the sacrifice is greater than the reward. Only those gifts in which the giver forgets himself.”

What a special day for Andrea! She was going to school for the very first time.
“I painted a picture of a tiger,” she said, racing into the house after school. “I listened to a story about a big brown bear, and I even have my own hook for my jacket. Can I go to school again tomorrow?”
“Yes,” her mother replied.
The next day when Andrea came home, a smile covered her face from ear to ear. “We went on a nature walk,” she said. “I found three bugs, two sticks, and a purple flower. I even have a new friend, named Samantha. Can I go again tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Andrea’s mother said with a smile.
The next afternoon, Andrea raced up the stairs two at a time. “Mom!” she hollered. “Guess what? We have a gerbil in our classroom. He lives in a glass case, and we named him Patches. I even drew a picture of Patches. Do you want to see?”
“What a handsome gerbil,” Mother said, admiring Andrea’s picture.
“Can I go to school again tomorrow?” she asked.
“Yes,” Mother replied.
The next afternoon, Andrea skipped into the house and plopped down at the table for milk and cookies. “We saw a movie about a lost polar bear,” Andrea said, wiping her mouth after a big gulp of milk. “Samantha and I played ball at recess. I had sixteen bounces without a miss! Can I go to school again tomorrow?”
Mother nodded and bit into a cookie.
The next afternoon, Andrea sang all the way home from school. “Oh, Mom,” she said, hugging her mother, “I made a truck using scissors and glue and lots of colored paper. And you should’ve seen the tower I built with blocks. Before it fell, it was this high.”
“That’s a mighty tall tower,” Mother said, looking at Andrea’s upraised hand.
“Can I go again tomorrow?” she asked.
“I’m sorry, Andrea,” Mother replied. “You can’t go to school tomorrow.”
Andrea’s eyes widened, and her smile melted away. “But I want to go to school,” she said, blinking hard. “School is fun.”
Mother knelt down and put her arm around Andrea. “School is fun,” she said. “But you can’t go tomorrow.”
“Why not?”
“Because tomorrow is Saturday,” Mother explained with a hug.
“Saturday!” Andrea said with a laugh. “Oh, I forgot! But can I go to school again on Monday?”
“Yes,” Mother told her. “You can go to school on Monday.”
“Good,” Andrea said, and she raced outside to ride her bike.

A passage from the novel Les misérables illustrates how priesthood holders can treat those individuals viewed as strangers. Jean Valjean had just been released as a prisoner. Exhausted by a long voyage and dying of hunger and thirst, he arrives in a small town seeking a place to find food and shelter for the night. When the news of his arrival spreads, one by one all the inhabitants close their doors to him. Not the hotel, not the inn, not even the prison would invite him in. He is rejected, driven away, banished. Finally, with no strength left, he collapses at the front door of the town’s bishop.
The good clergyman is entirely aware of Valjean’s background, but he invites the vagabond into his home with these compassionate words:
“‘This is not my house; it is the house of Jesus Christ. This door does not demand of him who enters whether he has a name, but whether he has a grief. You suffer, you are hungry and thirsty; you are welcome. … What need have I to know your name? Besides, before you told me [your name], you had one which I knew.’
“[Valjean] opened his eyes in astonishment.
“‘Really? You knew what I was called?’
“‘Yes,’ replied the Bishop, ‘you are called my brother.’”

Despite the occasional need for tests, most lessons are aimed at stretching and unfolding the students’ knowledge. Many teaching moments have happened at the very instant they were needed most. Like the week two young ladies became angry with each other on the way to seminary. They sat down and the meeting began. Their faces were preoccupied and gloomy. The scripture discussed in Scripture Mastery seemed to apply to them. In Doctrine and Covenants 64:9–11 they learned about how to truly forgive. [D&C 64:9–11] By the end of the meeting both girls were back to normal.

“I know when I joined the Church, I too expected everyone to be perfect. It was quite a shock to realize that they weren’t. I began to hear talk, rumors, and criticizing. Then a nonmember friend who had been coming to Church with me regularly commented on some of the backbiting. She said she didn’t think that Mormons were allowed to act that way. The only thing I could think of as an answer was to explain that we all have faults, but I’m not concerned about the faults of others. It is more important for me to do what I know is right and be a good example. In this way I may encourage others to live the gospel more fully. No feelings were hurt with this explanation, and I did not prejudice her against anyone else in the ward.”
Fiona EssonRichmond, British Columbia, Canada

1. Mildred and Marvin’s marriage was basically very sound. Each day Mildred rode to work with a good friend, Henry. They enjoyed talking; Mildred especially liked the chance to exchange ideas because Marvin, a very quiet man, did not readily share his thoughts and feelings with his family. Mildred and Henry gradually started taking longer routes home, and they even began stopping by the roadside to talk. There was no physical involvement between them, but when Marvin learned of the situation, he suspected Mildred of infidelity. It took months for them to remedy the damage. This heartache could have been avoided if they had found a third person to ride to and from work with them or if they had changed their transportation arrangement.

Any uneasiness about a situation should be taken seriously, even though “nothing’s happening.” The subtle shift from marital fidelity to infidelity is like the gradual shading from daylight to darkness. The growing pleasure Mildred and Henry took in each other’s company was destructive to both marriages.

Two years later, Simon came home from work and asked Rostya if she would like to move to Brazil on a company assignment. “When?” she asked.
“Tomorrow,” he replied. They were soon in Santos, Brazil, where Simon began work on an oil pipeline along the coast. They knew they had opened a new phase in their life. But the real change was yet to come.
The young couple soon joined a club for expatriates, where Rostya was attracted to a group of women that seemed enthusiastic and open. When Rostya introduced herself, one of the women said, “‘Gordon-Smith’ sounds English enough, but ‘Rostya’ certainly doesn’t.” “That’s because I’m Czech,” Rostya replied. To Rostya’s surprise, the women started speaking in Czech. Rostya had just met Zaza, a native Czech raised in Brazil, married to an American, Don Clark.
The Clarks and the Gordon-Smiths soon became friends, attending movies together, playing tennis, and just visiting. One day, two Latter-day Saint missionaries called at the Clark home while Rostya was there. “I did not know they were missionaries at that time,” Rostya says. “They were just two young men with short haircuts, dressed in shirts and ties. I asked them who they worked for, because I presumed any foreigner was working for a company. They gave me a very vague answer: they were working for a church, they said, and they were visiting people and reading scriptures with them in their homes. I thought it sounded very strange at the time.”
Don and Zaza Clark, who were members of the Church, began to talk to the Gordon-Smiths about the gospel. Soon, the Clarks invited their friends to attend a Church meeting with them. It was a fast and testimony meeting. “It was a shocker for me,” Rostya says. “All I could see was that everybody wept: men, women, and children. I was very, very embarrassed, and my husband was, too. When Don Clark asked me what I thought about the meeting, I looked at him and said, ‘I think it’s mass hysteria.’”
A short time later, Don and Zaza invited Simon and Rostya to an area conference in São Paulo, where President Spencer W. Kimball announced the building of the temple in Brazil. Rostya was impressed by the affection the people showed for the prophet. Following the conference, the Gordon-Smiths agreed to take the missionary discussions.
Nothing much happened until the lesson on repentance. “I was good at justifying any of my actions,” Rostya says, “but somehow the process of repentance seemed logical to me.” She found herself thinking about repentance, even writing letters of reconciliation. “But when the missionaries asked me to pray about the principle of repentance, I said, ‘How can I pray if I don’t believe in the existence of God?’ ‘How will you know if anyone lives on the tenth floor,’ they asked me, ‘if you don’t ring the bell? Ring the bell and see if anyone answers.’
“I was thinking about what they said while I was doing the dishes one day. I decided to follow their suggestion. I knelt down and said, ‘Heavenly Father,’ and a wave of warmth enveloped me. I started again, ‘Heavenly Father,’ and the warmth intensified. I felt enveloped in love and protection for the first time in many years. I asked all the questions: ‘Is this the true church?’ ‘Is Joseph Smith a prophet?’ ‘Is the Book of Mormon true?’ ‘Do you love me?’ My answers came in the affirmative by the power of the Spirit.
“I telephoned my friend Zaza Clark. ‘I’ve got it! I’ve got it!’ I cried. ‘What have you got?’ she asked in alarm. ‘A testimony!’ I exclaimed.”
Rostya and Simon were scheduled to be baptized after a stake conference. During the conference, Elder James E. Faust of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles called on members of the congregation to bear their testimonies. He motioned for Rostya to come to the podium. With Don Clark translating into Portuguese, she bore her testimony in English. When she finished, tears were running down her cheeks. “At the end, when I said, ‘Amen,’ Don Clark turned to me and smilingly said, ‘I don’t understand. What is all this mass hysteria about?’”
Before they left Brazil, the Gordon-Smiths introduced their friends Richard and Sally Hardwick to the Church. When Richard sustained a serious injury that required surgery, the Gordon-Smiths accompanied Sally to the hospital. Rostya said, “Simon, I wish you would give Richard a blessing.” Sally asked, “What is a blessing?” The blessing was given and fulfilled. The Hardwicks joined the Church.

Years later I made a new friend while in an airport in Lagos, Nigeria. We became acquainted as he checked my passport. I asked him about his religious beliefs, and he expressed strong faith in God. I shared the joy and vibrancy of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ and asked if he would like to learn more from the missionaries. He said yes, was taught, and was baptized. A year or two later, as I walked through the airport in Liberia, I heard a voice call out my name. I turned, and that same young man approached with a big smile. We joyfully embraced, and he let me know that he was active in the Church and working with the missionaries to teach his girlfriend.