Gospel Story Finder

“Why did I ever listen to those Mormon missionaries, anyway?” thought Johanna Anderson, as the boat pitched wildly beneath her feet. The voyage had been a difficult one, and today was especially rough. Just about everyone she knew on board was ill, and her faith began to waver as she thought, “Why must this journey be so long and hard?”
She could, at this very moment, have been home in her beloved Sweden with her caring parents. They had been converted by LDS missionaries in the early 1800s, and it was their greatest desire to send their family to the Salt Lake Valley. When their eldest son, Neils, earned enough money for passage to America for himself and his wife, his parents decided it would be a wonderful opportunity to send 14-year-old Johanna with them.
Johanna remembered the care her mother had taken in packing her trunk, and the surprise package she’d hidden in the bottom of it. “Johanna,” her mother told her, “when you are far from home, when your faith in God is low, or when you most need help, open the package in the bottom of your trunk. It will cheer your spirits and give you faith to go on to Utah.”
Well, Johanna’s spirits were certainly low at this point. Not only had the storms relentlessly punished their small ship, but the water for the three-month journey had gone stale. Many passengers were terribly sick, and some had even died and been buried at sea. Everything looked so bleak. Perhaps now was the time to open the package her mother had sent.
Quietly and unseen, she crept to the hull of the ship and found her trunk. She opened it and felt her precious package. Tears formed in her eyes when she saw what it contained. It was the most beautiful red coat she had ever seen. Her mother must have spent hours making it for her. She slipped into its warm softness and did a little dance on the heaving floor.
She hadn’t been this happy in a long time. She wanted to show her beautiful coat to all the others on the ship, but she thought again. This was her secret. This red coat was for Utah. She would wear it again when she arrived in the new land. Tenderly she returned the coat to her trunk.
The knowledge of her beautiful secret gave her courage for the rest of the journey. When no one else seemed able to eat, Johanna found herself hungry. She had become a special friend of the ship’s cook, and he would prepare her the Swedish pancakes she loved. He would place the big bowl in her lap while he added the ingredients, and would instruct her to “lean with the toss of the ship” so the batter would stay in the container.
Finally, after three months, the ship reached America. It took another three months for the Andersons to travel to St. Louis. There they purchased a wagon, ox teams, and supplies for the long trek across the plains.
While Neils and his wife drove the team, Johanna walked. She was young and strong and loved the wilderness, with its birds and animals. Every day she saw some new sight that stirred her. Occasionally she would see friendly Indians in the distance. And always, as she walked, she would think of the secret in her trunk—the soft, beautiful red coat—and how she would wear it when she reached her new home in Utah.
But unknown to the company she traveled with, hostile Indians had been following them since they crossed Wyoming. Johanna sensed things were not right and felt apprehensive. Finally, when evening came, the captain of the company moved the wagons together, forming a tight circle. The cattle and oxen were driven into the center, and there was no campfire, music, or dancing as there had been on other nights. The Saints were told to go to bed and stay quiet.
Johanna, exhausted from her long walk, fell into a deep sleep. But just at daybreak, she was awakened by voices and stamping horses’ hooves. Her sister-in-law motioned for her to lay quiet. Neils was not in his bed.
The voices grew louder and nearer, and Johanna noted the language was different. Her people were talking to the Indians.
She could hear rummaging in the wagon above her. Her trunk was at the end of the wagon, and she could tell it was being opened. She heard Neils’s voice dealing with the Indians.
Suddenly the voices ceased, and the men jumped down from the wagon. Their dealings had ended, and she could hear the Indians riding away.
Neils returned and took Johanna to the front of the wagon. In his firm Swedish, he said to his sister, “Johanna, stay here. Let nothing permit you to look back or go to the rear of our wagon. You have faith and the Lord will take care of all of us.”
The temptation was too great for Johanna, and she turned to look at the Indians riding away, single file and bareback on their ponies. Heading the warriors was Chief Walker, yelling and screaming and riding at top speed. Around his shoulders he wore her beautiful red coat.
Neils caught his sister in his arms. “Johanna, your coat saved your life—not only yours, but the lives of all in our company. The bright red color caught the chief’s eye. When he saw your coat, he was satisfied and then left us all unharmed.”
The Andersons soon reached Salt Lake City, and Johanna eventually married James Hansen, a Danish convert. They had ten children, and her descendants still tell her story to their children today.

About 4 years ago, I made the decision to pursue my doctorate degree. It was something I always wanted to do, but the timing was never right. I remember my husband encouraging me to go for it, but I just couldn’t see myself thinking about it, not while he was going through his medical treatments. I knew that once I made that commitment I would have to go all the way until it was done. Shortly after he passed away I felt that urge again to do it, so I started on my journey. It was the hardest thing I have ever tried to do. Of course, from a single income household I was still working a full time job, worked a second job as a Samoan language instructor, had an on-call job at the PCC’s Breath of Life show at the same time serving as stake Relief Society President. All the missed birthdays, the family events, hospitalizations, funerals.

I stayed behind after work, and studied, and wrote, and studied again some nights rushing over to the PCC night show with my books and in between sections I’d be reading and studying and coming back after the show to the office to study some more. Oh many times I wanted to just quit! But I remember writing my graduation date in my mind and when I was tired I thought of that graduation date and got up and just kept going.

I am so thankful for my good friends who cheered for me and encouraged me. For the support of my family especially my dear mother who kept saying, “If your dad was here…” or “you’re doing it for Ernie” or “Ena, you’ve got to do it for your students.” A friend would often remind me at Foodland or at Ace’s or even at the parking lot whenever he saw me, “Hey, don’t you give up. The one who persists is the one who wins.” I knew I had to finish! When I finally submitted my final dissertation, I just sat down one evening and thanked the Lord for helping through it all. What it proved to me was that if I can do it, anybody can do it. Ann, I did it for us.

But just as the Lord blessed Joseph Smith in ways that enabled him to complete his work, the Lord blesses His translators. For instance, the translator of the Latvian scriptures was a lawyer who had studied law in Russia, where he had been converted to the restored gospel. Back in Latvia, he was setting up his business. He was also serving as a branch president. He couldn’t have been busier, but the Church needed him and his facility with English.
He asked for time to pray about the request because accepting it would, as he told the Church representative, “take food out of the mouth of my children.” After praying, he decided to accept but asked the Lord to bless him with the means to do what is a difficult, spiritually demanding, time-consuming work.
He began going to his law office one hour earlier every day and using that hour to translate the Book of Mormon. He finished well under the five years the process usually takes. In fact, this was one of the fastest translations since Joseph translated the Book of Mormon in roughly 60 days.

When I was a sophomore at the university, I was looking for my future career and I was considering dropping out of that university and transferring to another. Because of this, I did not enjoy my university life at that time. Are you enjoying your campus life? I was struggling a bit with my future career. Let me tell you my story.

One day, I received inspiration that I should pray like Enos did. I knew that Enos prayed mightily. After I had that inspiration, I set the date that I would pray as Enos did. To prepare for that date, I fasted. I also came up with questions that I would ask Heavenly Father and I wrote down thoughts of what I wanted to do and what I wanted to become.

I started praying and felt incredibly good, but I had a tough time getting answers to my questions. I prayed for a while, meditated, prayed again, and so on. My soul was hungry like Enos’ soul. I kneeled and cried to Heavenly Father in mighty prayer.

I prayed all day long as well. The answer Enos received was, “Enos, thy sins are forgiven thee, and thou shalt be blessed.”[3] The answer I received was different. I received specific answers and advice. For me, every time I prayed, I felt Heavenly Father’s love so strongly that it prompted me to think about my future deeply.

I started praying in the morning, meditated repeatedly, prayed again, and my thoughts of my future gradually solidified, and my heart became increasingly calm and peaceful. Through this fasting and praying, I got two promptings. The one was good advice that I should visit two professors to receive their counsel. The other one was that I would be a university professor. I followed those promptings. I visited the professors’ offices and asked them for their counsel. They gave me good advice to help me make good decisions. I did not quit university or change schools, and I studied hard to go on to graduate school.

Two years later, I went to one of the best graduate schools in Japan, then started teaching at a university, becoming a professor at the age of forty. That experience strengthened my testimony of prayer, receiving revelation, and of Jesus Christ.

A number of years ago I taught evening classes for the University of Utah at the old Stoker School in Bountiful. One winter night I walked outside after class and found myself in the middle of a heavy snowfall. As I trudged to my black Subaru station wagon, arms full of class materials, I discovered the lock on my door was frozen. After numerous failed attempts, I moved to the passenger door, only to experience the same result. The best idea I could muster under the circumstances was to heat the locks—hence my professional pursuit of health and not engineering. I walked to the nearby house of some friends and borrowed a candle and some matches. To my dismay, this effort failed as well. Though I could insert the key, I could not coax it sideways.
By now the night was growing late, and I was becoming increasingly cold and tired. Most of the other cars were gone, and I found myself nearly alone in the parking lot. As I stood there, something interesting caught my eye. A few rows over from the car I was so ingeniously trying to enter was my black Subaru station wagon. After seeing my car, I was relieved on three counts: I could now drive home, there was no damage done to the other Subaru, and the owner hadn’t shown up while I was attempting to torch his lock.
This experience has long served as a personal reminder that in this life we can be drawn to things that squander our time, energy, and light without moving us toward a meaningful end. Still, the way home is straight and narrow, and it is vital to know the difference between something that helps us return and something that deflects or restrains our progress.

Bennette, who works as a reporter for a local television station, said that her family helps her cope with the pressures of her employment.

“I go around with a cameraman and shoot the important and significant things in the community,” she said. She has interviewed the mayor and other local officials. “But I often see things like fires, holdups, or robberies, and you see a lot of people who aren’t happy with what they’re doing.

“When you can come home and find as nice an atmosphere as this family has,” she continued, “it makes you very thankful to the Lord. I know that if there are problems or difficulties, I can come home and talk with my family about them. My parents and my brothers and sisters help me solve the problems. I also get a lot of support from them in other ways. We do many things together as a family, such as going to church on Sunday or going to other Church-sponsored activities during the week.”

She said she gets questions at work about being LDS, usually because she is offered coffee by those she is interviewing and they want to know why she turns it down. “That often leads to discussions about the Word of Wisdom,” she said. She also noted that “in broadcasting some people have an especially hard time with ‘colorful language,’ like the director who shouts at you in not-so-nice language. Aside from being a correspondent, I also direct some of the shows, and usually when I’m directing, someone will say, ‘Why don’t you get mad and swear like the others?’ But I can get mad without saying nasty things. I can be just as forceful in a nice sort of way.”

At a youth conference I met five young men. One of them, who had recently fallen into inactivity, had been persuaded to attend the conference by some strong-arm tactics of his friends, who would not let him fall away from the Church. Touched by the spirit of that youth conference and the love of his buddies, that inactive boy joined his four friends in pledging to one another that they would live righteous lives. Today he is serving a mission for the Lord, thankful for those companions who cared so much about him.

Seven-year-old Adam wanted to be a superhero. He’d seen superheroes on TV, and he’d read a lot of superhero adventures. He thought that he was qualified for the job. He knew exactly how to stop the bad guys and prevent wrongdoings.
One morning when Adam woke up, he decided that his time to be a superhero had come. He was going to save the day.
“Hurry up,” Mother called. “Breakfast is ready.”
Adam jumped out of bed, dressed in an instant, then ran into the kitchen.
“That was fast,” Mother noticed. “You must have big plans for the day.”
“Sort of,” he replied. He didn’t want to say too much. Every seven-year-old knows that superheroes don’t brag.
Adam gulped down his breakfast, thinking of the possible adventures ahead.
Mother’s voice broke into his thoughts. “Oh, my,” she sighed. “I almost forgot that I promised to pick a basket of raspberries for Mrs. Evans this morning. Adam, could you clear and wash these breakfast dishes so I can get started?”
At first, Adam was a little annoyed. After all, he had more important things to do. He had to save the day. Oh, well, he thought. It’s still early, and the day hasn’t needed saving yet. Besides, if Mrs. Evans was going to make jam with the raspberries, maybe she’d save a jar for him. He liked Mrs. Evans, and Mrs. Evans knew that he liked raspberry jam.
After the dishes were done, Adam practically flew out the front door. He stopped at the end of the driveway and surveyed the neighborhood with his eagle-like vision. It seemed pretty quiet, but every superhero knows well that quiet can be deceiving.
Suddenly the quiet was broken! His little brother, Aaron, was yelling from the front porch. “Adam, Mom wants you to tie my shoes.” Aaron was four and was just learning to tie his shoes.
Adam trudged up the stairs to the front porch and began to tie his younger brother’s shoes. Then a super idea came to him: If I teach Aaron how to tie his own shoes, I won’t have to do it anymore, and I’ll have more time to save the day! He sat patiently with his brother. It was frustrating at first, but pretty soon Aaron’s fingers did just what they were supposed to do. Now Aaron could tie his own shoes. Helping Aaron tie his shoes had taken longer than Adam had expected. He hoped that he hadn’t been needed for an emergency. He decided to take a walk around the neighborhood, keeping his eyes and ears open for any signs of trouble.
Except for two dogs chasing a cat up a tree, he didn’t see anything. He chased the dogs away and coaxed the cat out of the tree. It wasn’t his idea of a superhero’s job, even if the cat seemed happy. Discouraged, he went home.
“Hi,” Mother said. “I was just coming to find you. We need to go to the grocery store and buy a few things for dinner. Go jump in the car.”
Adam brightened a little. Maybe he could save the day at the store. Eager to get there, he helped Aaron and their younger sister, Jenna, put on their seat belts before he buckled his own. Once inside the store, he scanned the aisles in search of anything amiss.
Adam pushed the cart while Mother loaded it with groceries. With Jenna sitting in it, it was getting harder and harder to push. By the time they got to the checkout stand, he was very tired, but he was sure that all the pushing had made his muscles stronger. A superhero needed to be really strong. But he was disappointed that he hadn’t been needed to save the day.
Once they were home, he helped carry in the groceries and put them away. And while Mother fixed dinner, he set the table. After dinner, he decided he might as well clear the table, too.
The day was almost over. In just a couple more hours it would be time for bed, and he hadn’t saved the day yet. He decided to go out on the porch and take one last look around the neighborhood.
Just as he was going out the door, he heard Jenna crying. She was ready for bed and wanted to hear a story. Adam could hear Mother in the other room, helping Aaron get ready for bed. Adam was a good reader, and he figured that reading one story wouldn’t take too long. He settled Jenna in her bed and read her favorite story to her—then another and another. By the time she fell asleep, it was almost time for Adam to get ready for bed. I haven’t done one thing to save the day, he thought. Not one sinister plan has been stopped. No one has needed rescuing. I haven’t saved the day at all.
As he lay in bed, thinking about his wasted day, Mother came to find him. “Adam, you got ready for bed awfully early. Are you feeling all right?”
“Yeah—I guess I’m just tired.” Mother smiled. “I bet you are—you really saved the day for me today. Thank you.”
“What?” Adam sat upright in his bed. “What did you say?”
“I said that you saved the day for me today. I never could have finished all the things that needed to be done if it weren’t for your help.” And with a quick kiss on his forehead, Mother was gone.
“I saved the day!” Adam whispered excitedly. “I really did it!”
That night Adam the superhero fell asleep thinking of ways he could save the day tomorrow.

I couldn’t help looking back. My feet were moving one way and my heart the other. Through my tears I could see Mama still standing on the porch. She was getting smaller with each step I took.
So many times I had asked her, “Must I be the one to go, Mama? I am only eleven years old. Are you sure I can do it all by myself?” And each time she reassured me. Yes, I was the one to go. And yes, this was Heavenly Father’s way for me to reach Zion. With Mama praying for me, I knew I shouldn’t doubt.
Mama wanted awfully bad to go west with the Saints. She had no money for such a great undertaking, but she was a woman of faith and knew that her prayers would be answered.
Then Mama found a way for me to go. An elderly blind lady needed a companion to help her walk across the many, many miles of hazardous terrain to the mountains of Utah. So that is how I came to leave my mother and my family and cross the plains without them.
When I left, tears were streaming down my face. With all the courage I could muster, I clasped hands with the blind lady and walked away.
My blurry eyes became her eyes. I guided her with my sight; she guided me with the wisdom of her years. Together we walked every step of the way through the dust and the dirt of the crude trails. After many long, tiring days, and weeks, and months, we made it!

When you receive a check, it’s always nice to write a second note after you’ve spent it. You might say something like
Dear Gram,
It was lots of fun deciding what to do with the money you sent for Christmas. Sandy (my best friend) and I had a great day at the mall looking at sweaters. I finally picked out a fuzzy red one to go with my new plaid skirt. Thank you again for the check and the nice day spending it. You gave me two gifts in one.
Love,Judy

Siabebe, a young Kuna Indian girl, sits beside her mother on the earthen floor of their palm-leaf hut. Like her mother, she takes a needle, thimble, and scissors and sets to work with brightly colored cloth. For many weeks now, Siabebe has clipped and tucked and stitched. She’s eager to finish her work, yet careful to make perfect stitches she and her mother can be proud of.
In one more week, Siabebe will attend an important celebration with her family and all the people of her village. She and her mother will wear the lovely mola blouses they are making. Siabebe’s is a tutu (flower) mola; her mother’s a yauk (sea turtle) mola.
Two special ceremonies are held for every girl who grows up in a Kuna village: when she officially leaves childhood behind and is declared an adult (usually around the age of twelve) and another time a couple of years later when she is presented as being ready for marriage. Then the village members celebrate with music, dancing, and storytelling. It is during these ceremonies that the finest molas are worn. And it is for Siabebe’s own coming-of-age party that she and her mother have worked so hard to make theirs the loveliest of molas.

The members’ ability to receive, in their native tongue, that reassurance from modern-day prophets was thanks in large measure to a team of translators who suffered their own losses during the disaster.
Assigned to provide live interpretation from the islands for the first time rather than from Salt Lake City, the translation team had a choice to make after the disaster struck. The team could turn interpretation over to Salt Lake City on short notice so that they could tend to the needs of friends and family affected by the quake, or they could fulfill their assignment.
Aliitasi Talataina, the translation supervisor and interpretation coordinator, said she felt an impression that there were many who could tend to the physical needs of the people or bury the dead but that “this is what the Lord would have us do [for] the living and generations to come.”
Because a disaster management team took over the service center where the interpretation equipment had been set up, the team had to find a facility that had the digital telephone lines and other technical requirements necessary to provide remote, simultaneous translation.
Sister Talataina said the team’s faith was like Nephi’s in that they said, “Even if we [had] to do this under a tree, we [would] go and do” (see 1 Nephi 3:7).
With the Lord’s help they found a location, and the necessary equipment was transferred, set up, and tested in the few days prior to conference.
“We felt the hand of the Lord in accomplishing what we were commanded,” Sister Talataina said.
Because of the team’s efforts, when conference began, members who took time from the massive cleanup effort to participate in the proceedings were able to hear and understand the Lord’s message for them.

This summer, our family went on a two-month cross-country road trip from North Carolina to California! We stopped at many places on the way. We read the Friend all along the way and liked taking pictures with it.
Before the trip, Spencer asked the missionaries for 10 copies of the Book of Mormon and some pass-along cards to hand out. We gave them to people like hotel employees and tollbooth attendants. Once Kylie got to take a Book of Mormon to the clerk at a gas station. He said he already had a Bible, so Kylie explained why the Book of Mormon is special. He said he would try to read it! Kylie says, “I loved traveling with my family, visiting relatives, seeing God’s beautiful creations, and being a missionary too!”

I remember, too, my mother as she went through eight years of being paralyzed. The last year and a half she needed care around the clock, and my dear father cared for her. One night, a few weeks before she passed away, I knelt at her bed after a word of prayer and she said, “I would like to go to heaven to see Papa.”

I said, “Mother, why have you gone through this pain?”

She said, “To learn patience.”

“Mother, have you learned enough patience?”

Then, with a mother’s kind way of teaching, she looked at me and said, “I have, but have you?”

At such moments we begin to understand that the difficulties and problems of others, if we will feel them, will make us grow, if we will but lend a hand.

Karoly Takacs, a Hungarian, was recognized as the best pistol shot in the world. More than anything he wanted to win in the Olympics. But one day driving home, Takacs was in a car crash, and doctors had to amputate his right arm—his shooting arm.
Takacs’ recovery was slow. It wasn’t a physical challenge, but an emotional one. He had reached the lowest feeling of despair. People wanted to help but there was little they could do. Takacs began to avoid his friends; even his family didn’t know where he spent his time. But Karoly Takacs was preparing. In solitude he had trained his left arm and his aiming eye, a training that’s far more of an intellectual mastery than most people realize. By the next Olympics, Takacs was ready.
When the pistol event was over, this one-armed Hungarian stood, the cheers rising about him, on the topmost step of the winner’s platform with a gold medal around his neck.
Takacs showed us something more than his ability to shoot. He proved that human beings have a largely untapped recovery capacity. He discovered for himself the exciting fact that experiencing the deepest feeling of despair does not mean defeat, but that it just signals the end of downward movement. As one friend told me, “The bottom can be something to bounce on.”

O f all of the passengers on the crowded train, one man caught my eye. He wasn’t like the other passengers, who turned their backs to him. He was older, his head was bowed, and he was sitting alone.
I tried to ignore the pulsing of my heart, as the Spirit told me to do something for him. I thought of what I might be able to give him. I didn’t have any money, and he already had a jacket. I didn’t have anything to give. But the Spirit kept prompting me.
With my heart in my throat, I sat down next to the old man, introduced myself, and we began talking. We were still talking when we pulled into the station.
“This is my stop. It’s a pleasure meeting you.” I shook his calloused hand. It was a little cold, but it was the gentlest thing I have ever held.
“It was a pleasure talking to ya,” he replied.
My heart began to hurt as I turned to leave.
I always thought of charity as giving things to those in need, but I learned how to give pure love and received much more. I realized that charity doesn’t revolve around money. Charity is answering the Lord’s call to help someone in need.

Some years ago I encountered a brilliant neurosurgeon whose task at a world-famous hospital was to help patients with chronic pain. He put together a team: psychologists, psychiatrists, physicians, pharmacologists, and physical therapists—you name it. Out of all their efforts and many failures, one insight emerged: if there was no significant other—one for whom the patient really cared and who cared in return for the patient—their efforts could do little or nothing to reduce the pain. This physician has since become a Latter-day Saint. He told me one day that the following statement is scientifically certain: For many sicknesses, love, and especially family love, is the only preventive medicine and the only lasting therapy. There is something in holy scripture about that.

Some men and boys were stretched out under a large tree in a little grove near Nauvoo. Among them were loyal followers of the Prophet Joseph Smith, but there were also several of his enemies.
A young man by the name of Philemon Merrill rested quietly by the side of the Prophet, listening to a large and powerful man boast that he could throw anyone in the group. “In fact,” he said, “I can throw anyone in the whole state of Illinois.”
Stephen Markham was a bodyguard of Joseph Smith. He was a huge man and noted for his ability to wrestle. He accepted the challenge and, much to everyone’s surprise, was quickly thrown.
This only served to whet the appetite of the boaster who insisted that someone else become his victim. The enemies of the Prophet began to insult him and his followers, calling them cowards because they didn’t quickly send another man to meet the challenge.
Joseph Smith turned to the young man beside him and said, “Get up and throw that boaster.” Surprise and fear gripped Philemon who, since he was not a wrestler, was about to refuse. However, the look in the Prophet’s eyes stopped him.
Joseph Smith’s followers knew he was a man of great faith. So strong was his faith that his followers felt they could do anything the Prophet asked of them.
Philemon arose to his feet to obey the strange command given him. As he did so, his body was suddenly filled with unusual strength. He lifted his arms and stood ready for action. Despite the protests of his friends, Philemon even gave the boasting wrestler his choice of sides.
As they began to grapple, the Prophet said, “Philemon, when I count three, throw him!”
Philemon’s whole body and soul swelled with an unquestioning faith in his ability to carry out the command of Joseph Smith. As the word “three” was pronounced by the Prophet, the young man, with the strength of a giant, lifted his large opponent and threw him over his left shoulder while the amazed group watched in silent awe. Then a cheer rang through the little grove.
There were no more challenges to wrestle that day.

Please allow me at this point to give special thanks to my wife, Harriet, for her witness and testimony of the Restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ. And let me share with you the story of how my wife’s family became converted to the gospel many years ago.

One Sunday when I was a teenager attending the Frankfurt Branch in Germany, the missionaries brought a young mother and her two beautiful daughters to our church meetings. At that age I had no real interest in girls; however, I still remember the impressions I had when I saw those two young girls walking into our chapel. The older daughter, especially, with her large brown eyes and beautiful black hair, immediately caught my attention. I thought, “These missionaries are doing a really great job!” Little did I know that this young lady would later bless my life forever.

But I’m getting ahead of the story. Let me go back and start with how this young family met the missionaries.

In the fall of 1954, two missionaries were ringing the doorbells inside of an apartment building in the city of Frankfurt. Beginning with the doors on the main level, they gradually worked their way up the floors without any success. No one invited them in or wanted to listen to their message. But these were dedicated and faithful missionaries, and they did not give up or try another, perhaps more fruitful, apartment building. Finally they rang the bell of the last door on the fourth floor. It was opened by young Harriet Reich, who immediately asked her mother to invite them in. Sister Carmen Reich initially hesitated, but after some additional pleading by Harriet, she finally invited Elder Gary Jenkins from California and his companion into their home.

These two missionaries were truly guided by the Spirit, not only in where to go but also in what to say. After briefly explaining who they were and what the message was they wanted to share, the missionaries left a Book of Mormon with the mother, asked her to read the marked scriptures, and departed with a prayer and a blessing. Two days later they returned. This time the missionaries received a friendly welcome and were invited in quickly. When they asked Sister Reich if she had read the marked scriptures in the Book of Mormon, she answered without hesitation, “I read the whole book, and I feel that it is true.”

Sister Carmen Reich was only 36 at the time, a widow with two daughters. Only eight months before she had lost her husband, a renowned musician, to cancer. The family had always lived in good circumstances and had no need for financial help even after the loss of their husband and father. But after his unexpected death, they struggled with a number of unanswered questions: Is there a purpose in life? Is there anything after death? And, if so, what? Why are we born? Did we live before this life?

Representatives of a number of different religions approached them, trying to be of help. However, Sister Reich never felt a need for their assistance. The answers they offered were not new to her and not very helpful.

Let me make it clear that Sister Reich was a religious person. She loved to read, and the Bible was one of her favorite books. She was always seeking truth, even by study and faith. She believed firmly that Jesus is the Christ, and she taught her family to follow His teachings. They accepted Peter, Paul, Matthew, Mark, Luke, James, and John as apostles and regarded their teachings highly. This family had always been happy. They were good, honest people, and even the loss of their husband and father could not take away their strong feeling of family.

However, when Sister Carmen Reich read the Book of Mormon cover to cover in two days, she felt something she had never before experienced. By her own account, it was “the spirit of revelation.” Her experience was consistent with Joseph Smith’s description of personal revelation; she said she could “feel pure intelligence flowing” into her, giving her “sudden strokes of ideas” about the things of the Spirit of God (HC 3:381). These ideas related to her special circumstances. The Spirit was able to teach her, for she was open and receptive to truth and light. As the missionaries taught her the plan of salvation and the other doctrines of the Restoration, she continued to grow in the principle of personal revelation. All the good things she had learned in her Lutheran faith received a new and a deeper meaning, and all of a sudden life itself had a totally different and divine eternal perspective.

It was not that she felt any disdain for what she had believed for so many years. She still loved many of the hymns she had sung at church. One of her favorites was (and continues to be in our family) “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God,” by Martin Luther (Hymns, 1985, no. 68). She was also glad that she had learned to quote and internalize many key scriptures of the New Testament. But when she heard the message of the Restoration, a door was opened into a world flooded with light and filled with love and hope. Looking back, she described her experience this way: It was as if something of great importance had been lifeless and inert but was now resurrected to life, beauty, and activity.

Sister Reich, my dear mother-in-law, represents in many ways the multitude of converts who are coming into the Church every day from other religions—both Christian and non-Christian, and even from no religion at all. One characteristic is true of all of them—they are willing and pure enough to believe when God speaks.

Sister Reich was baptized on November 7, 1954. In December, only a few weeks after her baptism, the missionary who baptized her asked if she would write down her testimony. Elder Jenkins wanted to use her testimony to help others feel the true spirit of conversion. Fortunately, he kept her handwritten original for more than 40 years and then returned it to my mother-in-law as a very special gift of love. Sister Carmen Reich passed away in 2000 at age 83.

Let me read to you parts of her written testimony. It shows what she saw, at this time of her life, as the key points of the Restoration. Please bear in mind that you are listening to a sister who was taught and had accepted the restored gospel only a few weeks earlier. Before the missionaries came, she had never heard anything about the Book of Mormon, and she knew nothing about Joseph Smith or Mormons in general. Also keep in mind that in 1954 there were no temples outside the United States except in Canada. And remember that Sister Reich had recently lost her husband. This is the English translation of her handwritten testimony:
Special characteristics of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints that are not present in other religious communities include, above all:
Modern revelation given through the Prophet Joseph Smith.
Sacred priesthood authority as in the time of Christ, with a living prophet today.
Next, the Book of Mormon in its clear and pure language, with all its instructions and promises for the Church of Jesus Christ—truly a second witness with the Bible that Jesus Christ lives.
Faith in a personal God—that is, God the Father; God the Son [Jesus Christ]; and the Holy Ghost, who facilitates prayer and guides us personally.
Belief in a premortal life, the premortal existence. Knowledge of the purpose of our earthly life and of our life after death. The plan of salvation is so clearly laid out in the restored gospel that our lives receive new meaning and direction.
The Word of Wisdom as a guide to help us to keep our body and spirit healthy and improve them. This is our goal because we know that we will take our body up again after death.
Temple work, with its many sacred ordinances enabling families to be together forever. This doctrine, totally new to me, was given through revelation to the Prophet Joseph Smith.
How grateful I am for Sister Reich. How grateful I am for the missionaries. How grateful I am for the families who had prepared these missionaries. How grateful I am for the Restoration.

Rita Jeppeson and her visiting teacher have become good friends as they meet and share gospel conversations. But their visits also include playing word games together, which helps Rita’s aging mind stay sharp. Because her visiting teacher has learned what Rita needs and enjoys, they both look forward to each visit. Rita knows that they are friends and that the visit is not just an obligation. There are so many things sisters can do during a visit, such as taking a walk together or helping a sister with her chores.