Gospel Story Finder

Once upon a time, after a long and grueling day traveling to and from Kingston, the capital city of Jamaica, I decided to take a moment to rest both my body and mind. I sat down by two young men. They were missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. They began to share the gospel of Jesus Christ with me with kindness and enthusiasm.
Their message was one of hope and love. They assured me that every person who has ever lived would have the chance to hear and receive the gospel. This idea deeply touched my heart, and I decided to learn more. The Spirit testified to me that their words were true, and I felt drawn to their teachings of Jesus Christ.
Three weeks later, I was baptized. Two weeks after my baptism, I was confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and received the gift of the Holy Ghost. That moment began a new chapter in my life—one filled with purpose, faith, and growth.
Over the last 16 years, my journey has been one of miracles, challenges, soul-stretching experiences, and spiritual growth. Through it all, I have come to know, without a doubt, that I am never alone. Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ are always there, guiding, protecting, and providing for me. This knowledge gives me strength and peace, no matter what life brings.

One Saturday in the family history centre, I was drawn to a drawer of microfiche, which store miniature images of vital documents. In it, I found a pile for Kent, England, which were filed under the wrong country. As I took them to their correct drawer, I noticed that they were from the same area as my extended family, so I sat down to read each fiche. Suddenly, I came across a family of parents and six children whom I was able to link as a sister to my uncle’s family. Until then, we did not know they existed. This was a clear example of how the Spirit always guides us in this sacred work.

When our son was in 7th grade, he decided to be a miler just like his Uncle Tommy and me. The only problem was that he liked to eat, and those extra pounds slowed him down.

Regardless, he ran the mile in his first track meet, and it was a disaster. I remember thinking to myself, "I guess that's that."

But NO, that was not "that's that!" He was struck by the love of running and overnight developed an intense passion to run.

He made a plan, he set goals, and trained like ROCKY in the movies. Over the next year, he transformed himself into a mean lean running machine. It was inspirational to watch. This is a picture of Nate running.

As the next track season started, he was the top runner in his school. He had a great track season, winning a number of races and at regionals placed in the top four. I'm always amazed at what can be accomplished in a single year by simple focus and dedication to a plan.

Georgia Portlock in the Drennan’s ward gave out many books. “I love to talk about the Church, and it made me feel great to give the books to people,” she said. “At least they’ll have a copy of the Book of Mormon, and I don’t care if it sits on their shelf for a while. One day something will come up and they’ll read it and understand it. That’s what happened to me. My son gave me a Book of Mormon, and it sat on the shelf for ten years until I read it. When I did, it. was like I was burning up, and in three weeks I asked to be baptized.”

When Julie accepted an assignment to spend a morning serving in a Church-operated food processing plant, she decided to invite Shawna to go with her. Shawna had only come to church a few times in the years since she had moved into the neighborhood. Julie and Shawna had a great time serving together at the plant. Not long after, Julie and Carl planned a game night for home evening. They decided to invite Shawna’s family to join them. Because Julie had thought to include Shawna in these activities that she was already planning, the two developed a deeper relationship. Later, when Shawna faced some challenges, she reached out to Julie’s husband, Carl, for a priesthood blessing.

Meaningful ministering can happen when we find simple ways to show our love, share our faith in Jesus Christ, and invite others to come to Him and join us—even in things we were going to do anyway.

I still remember one particular afternoon as if it were yesterday. I sat down next to a smiling lady during our Sunday meetings, which at that time were held both in the morning and the afternoon. I took her hand to make sure she would stay with me. But I was only six years old, and I was quite tired. My eyelids began to close, and though I struggled hard to keep hold of that warm hand, I fell asleep. When I woke up, the hand was no longer there. Tears ran down my small face, and my heart was sad.
Her name was Sister Avon Compton. She and her husband, Merlin, were always smiling, and their faces reflected love. When I close my eyes today, I can still see them clearly. I often tell my Primary class about them. Their story is the best way I know to teach my CTR class about love.
They had come to Perú from their own country to be with us for a while. She did not speak our language very well, but her husband spoke it better than some of us. We admired him and knew he loved our language and culture.
I do not remember exactly when I began to love Sister Compton, but I think it must have been that first Sunday in Primary. She taught us the song “When I Go to Church” (Children’s Songbook, 157). She had brought pictures, and as she taught us the words of the song, she taught us about singing. She told us that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ liked to hear our voices raised in praise.
On another occasion, we again sat together during sacrament meeting. We could not say much to each other because of the language difference, but we could communicate. During the meeting, she got out a piece of paper and some crayons. I thought she was going to write something, but she whispered, “Let’s draw Mama.” She drew a small circle. Then she pointed to her eyes and gave me the piece of paper and a crayon. I understood that she wanted me to draw the eyes, and I did. I gave the crayon back to her, and she drew hair. Then I drew the dress, and she drew the arms. Eventually, the two of us had drawn a picture of my mother. I felt so happy! I showed it to Mama, and I gave Sister Compton a big hug.
She always had something to share with us. Often it was a children’s story she had written herself. One day she talked to me about Jesus Christ. Then we colored some pictures she had drawn of Jesus.
The day came when Brother and Sister Compton had to leave. I asked why. Mama told me they had a family who missed and needed them. I thought of Mama and how I could not be away from her for very long. That’s when I knew I had to let Sister Compton go.
Many years have passed since then. The letters between us have never stopped, and our friendship has become stronger. When I think of Sister Compton, I think of the words our Lord Jesus Christ left with His disciples: “This is my commandment, That ye love one another, as I have loved you” (John 15:12).

Sometimes, it’s difficult to find the time to talk. If that’s the case, try some creative approaches. One young missionary told me, “I always wanted to talk to my mom. Oh, we talked about lots of things but never about anything serious or personal. We had a good relationship—we got along well—but we never really talked.
“There was so much that I wanted to tell her, so many questions I wanted to ask her before I went on my mission, but I just couldn’t do it.
“So I wrote her a letter, a long letter, and left it on her dresser. That really opened things up for us, and we had a couple of great talks before I left.”

Many of you may recall an experience President Eyring related about his father, a world renowned and respected scientist. At the time of the story his father was nearly eighty and had bone cancer which made it very painful for him to move.
"As the senior high councilor, he assigned himself to fill an assignment to weed a field of onions at the welfare farm.
At the end of the day, after all the work was finished and the onions were all weeded, someone asked him, "Henry, good heavens! You didn't pull those weeds, did you? Those weeds were sprayed two days ago, and they were going to die anyway."
"Dad thought that was the funniest thing. He thought it was a great joke on him. He had worked through the day in the wrong weeds. They had been sprayed and would have died anyway.
When Dad told me this story, I knew how tough it was. So I said to him, "Dad, how could you make a joke out of that? How could you take it so pleasantly?" He said something to me that I will never forget, and I hope you won't. -- He said, "Hal, I wasn't there for the weeds."
"Now, you'll be in an onion patch much of your life. So will I. It will be hard to see the powers of heaven magnifying us or our efforts. It may even be hard to see our work being of any value at all. And sometimes our work won't go well.
But you didn't come for the weeds. You came for the Savior. And if you pray, and if you choose to be clean, and if you choose to follow God's servants, you will be able to work and wait long enough to bring down the powers of heaven." 

The Lord once counseled the Church, “If ye are prepared, ye shall not fear.” Perhaps a Nolan Crabb-revised edition of that scripture might read, “If you can’t see the congregation, it’s easier to talk.” To illustrate very briefly (because this is Elder Ballard’s time and the Lord’s time and not mine) what the light of the gospel can do, may I share with you just one experience. Upon arriving home from my mission, I was called into the office of a great bishop in Ogden, Utah, where hands were laid upon my head and a very special blessing was given me. Three months later I was walking on this campus. I have been blessed by our Father in Heaven to such a degree that I have been able to learn, I would say, 95 or 98 percent of it. The mobility instructor who taught me the campus did not show me where the girls’ dorms are (I guess that is fortunate for some of you, particularly for my wife, who sits behind me here today), but I would say 98 percent of the campus is within my grasp thanks to the light of the gospel.

On one occasion when I was in a hurry to get to class, a good brother whom I know well came along and said, “I’ll take you with me.” As we were running along—wouldn’t you know it—he took a short cut I had never been through before, one of the two-percent areas; and then he stopped in the middle and said, “I’ve got to take off to my class now, but you can make it; it’s really easy.” I said, “I wish I had as much faith in me as you do,” and I proceeded to move. It was like being flown over to Tokyo, dropped out of the plane, and told, “Walk to the temple site.” I thought, “Right. How?” But I began to move, and as I did so I began to talk to the Lord. With the full power of my spirit I said, “Now, Father, the nearest person is about three hundred feet away, and this is BYU, where you don’t ruin your reputation by hollering, ‘Hey, come and help.’” People would think I was some kind of a freak, and I couldn’t afford that, so I said, “You’re the only one who can hear me at this point. Can you please get me out of this jam? I’m not exactly sure where I am.” As I began to move again, I began to hear a voice as clearly as I speak to you that said “turn left here” or “go right” or “stay straight.” I also felt a hand on my shoulder, and so real was that force and feeling that I turned around to see who was back there. I did not see anyone, obviously, but more significantly, I did not hear any footsteps either, nor did anyone speak. Within two minutes, brethren and sisters, I heard the sound of a familiar landmark. (The blind find their way by sound here at BYU. Hollywood counts steps in those movies about the blind, but can you imagine doing that on this campus? “Three thousand two hundred and forty-one, three thousand two hundred and forty-two”—we would go crazy. That would not work at all here; we have to use sounds and landmarks.) At any rate, when I heard that sound I knew where I was, and I was able to turn and enter the building where my class was.

As I did so, there were tears in my eyes because I heard another voice, and I thought, “My goodness, what’s my bishop doing down here?” Well, it wasn’t him. It was his voice, but he wasn’t here on campus that morning; I was merely hearing his voice as it was recalled from memory by the Spirit, repeating what he had said three months earlier in that blessing after my mission: “I bless you that in your time of trial the angels of God will come and encamp round about you. And though they will be unseen, they will serve as your guide lights, as your beacons, and as your friends to guide you in areas throughout this earth wherein you need their help.” That guidance comes physically as well as spiritually.

At first, the Prophet Joseph asked his wife, Emma, to write the words he spoke as he translated. Others, such as Martin Harris, also helped. But the translation was going too slowly. Joseph Smith needed to devote all his time to the work with a scribe who could also commit all his time. Oliver Cowdery was guided by the Lord to offer to help the Prophet in this work. In a matter of a few months, the translation of the book was finished.

Trisha watched as Mommy taped the family job chart on the refrigerator. “Everyone’s name is on the chart,” Mommy told her. “Here is your name, Trisha. It’s the one with the smiling-face sticker next to it.”
Trisha was three years old. It made her feel very grown-up to have her name on the family job chart. She watched as Mommy wrote down assignments for her older brother and sister. Then she came to the name with the smiling face sticker by it.
“Now, Trisha, you have a special job,” Mommy said. “You get to be the Dust Bunny.”
Trisha had never heard of a Dust Bunny before, but she watched excitedly as Mommy got out one of Daddy’s old white socks. It had been made into a bunny!
“Each morning you can put on this Dust Bunny mitt and dust the living room like this.” She showed Trisha how to carefully dust the piano keys, the tops of the end tables, and the TV.
“Now, you try it,” Mommy said as she handed the Dust Bunny mitt to Trisha. The inside of the sock felt fuzzy and warm when Trisha put it on. She carefully dusted the piano keys, the tops of the end tables, and the TV.
“Super job, Dust Bunny!” Mommy declared. Then she gave Trisha a big squeeze. Trisha felt good inside.
That night when Daddy came home from work, she said, “Guess who came today.”
“Grandpa and Grandma?” Daddy guessed as he scooped her up into his arms and gave Mommy a kiss.
“No.”
“Santa Claus?” Daddy guessed.
Trisha giggled, “No, Daddy, that’s silly! It isn’t even Christmas.”
“Well then, who?” Daddy asked.
“The Dust Bunny!” Trisha said with a big smile.
“Who is the Dust Bunny? Is she related to Bunny Rabbit?” Daddy asked.
“No,” Trisha said with a laugh. Then she ran and got the mitt and put it on. “I’m the Dust Bunny!”
Daddy watched as Trisha showed him how she dusted the piano keys, the tops of the end tables, and the TV. It looked like so much fun that Daddy had to try it, too!

After my friend Buddy was in a car accident, I didn’t see him for a while. I guess he didn’t want to see his friends because he had some scars on his face.
One day I decided to call him on the phone. He said if I saw him I wouldn’t want to be his friend anymore. “I’m ugly,” he said, and I could tell he was crying.
Before the car accident, Buddy had always been happy and fun to be around. Now he was sad and wanted to be alone.
Buddy’s birthday was coming up. He didn’t want a party. He didn’t want anybody to see him or stare at him. Mom told me that Buddy and his family prayed that Heavenly Father would help him to feel different about himself. He knew he was a child of God and that his family loved him, but he still didn’t want to see his friends.
Before I went to visit Buddy, I asked Heavenly Father how I could help my friend. On my way out of my bedroom I saw my rock collection on the shelf. Something told me to give Buddy the big quartz rock. The rock didn’t look like much on the outside, but it had bright crystals inside.
I wrapped the rock in blue paper and headed to Buddy’s house. He didn’t want to see me at first, but he finally told his mom it was OK. When I went in his room, he was wearing a bandana to cover part of his face. I handed Buddy his birthday gift. When he opened it, he just stared at the rock.
“Uh, thanks,” he said.
“It’s better than it looks,” I said. “Grab your dad’s hammer, and come outside with me.”
We went into Buddy’s backyard. I put the rock on the ground and hit it with the hammer. It broke open, and Buddy’s eyes widened with surprise. “Wow, cool!” he exclaimed as he saw the crystals inside glinting in the sun.
Then I realized why I had been prompted to give Buddy the rock. “It’s just like you,” I said. “People who know you don’t care what you look like on the outside. What’s important is your heart.”
Buddy didn’t say anything as he gazed at the quartz, but I could tell he was smiling under the bandana.
Buddy decided to have a birthday party with his friends, and he didn’t wear the bandana over his face. He was his old self again. He still had scars, but he didn’t mind and neither did we. We knew what was inside, and that’s what was important.

Pray. Before the Young Women’s conference, Allison Buytendorp, 17, of the Roswell Georgia Stake, didn’t want to go. But her mother suggested she pray about it before she made up her mind. Allison prayed and felt she should go. Now she knows why. “I loved it. I felt spiritually renewed afterwards, and it made me want to go to seminary. Now I want to learn more about the scriptures. I know I was where I was supposed to be because I prayed. It just feels good to know Heavenly Father is always there for you to help you out.”

Before he joined the Church, Ian used to drink tea with his friends. He also went to cheering practice on Sundays, preparing to lead cheers at his school’s sporting events. But he stopped doing those things. Instead, he started going to church, even though he is the only one in his family who does. His father supports Ian in his Church attendance, and his stepmother, who is not a member, takes him to church and then picks him up afterward.
When asked why he comes to church when it would be easier to stay home, he says simply, “I come because I want to keep my faith strong.”

I had never thought much about my testimony. I liked to go to church, and the gospel wasn’t hard to live, so I basically took it for granted the Church was true.
When I was almost 21, I decided to go on a mission. But in my interview with the stake president the conversation took an unanticipated turn.
“Lara, do you support the leaders of the Church?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Do you know that Ezra Taft Benson is a true prophet of God?”
“I think so.”
“Do you know he is a prophet of God?” he asked again.
“I believe he is,” I responded, a little confused at the repetition of the question.
Then he said, “Belief is a beginning. But do you know that Ezra Taft Benson is a true prophet of God called to lead us in this day?”
This time I caught the wording. I could feel my face get hot. I felt helpless. Did this mean I couldn’t go on a mission? No. But he told me to be most effective on a mission, I needed a testimony of “I knows.”
I left the stake president’s office that day a little embarrassed, but determined to know that President Ezra Taft Benson is a true prophet of God, to know that the Book of Mormon is truly another testament of Jesus Christ, to know that Christ died for me. I would have to do the intense studying and praying that my stake president had done. And for the next three months I did.
By the time I entered the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah, I felt good saying “I know.” But it was in the MTC that I got my strongest witness that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God and that he did restore Christ’s church to the earth. That’s when I truly “knew,” and I was thrilled to be an “I know” missionary.

“Mom, what are we doing for family night?” Benjamin asked as he and his younger brother, Sammy, walked into the kitchen for a drink.
“Do you mean Pioneer Night?” Mom said with a smile.
“What?” Benjamin asked. “I thought today was Monday. You know, family night.”
Mom nodded. “It’s Monday all right. But tonight we’re having a special Pioneer Night.”
Benjamin frowned a little. He liked family night. He wasn’t sure he wanted to do anything different.
“What’s Pioneer Night?” Sammy asked.
“Well,” Mom said, pulling out a kitchen chair and sitting down at the table with them, “one hundred and seventy years ago, Mormon pioneers crossed the plains in wagons and handcarts to get to Utah. On July 24, 1847, the first pioneers arrived in the Salt Lake Valley.”
“Wait. Isn’t today July 24th?” Benjamin asked.
“Exactly! It’s Pioneer Day. In Utah it’s even a state holiday,” Mom said. “There are parades and fireworks to honor the pioneers.”
“But we don’t live in Utah,” said Benjamin.
“Well, that just means we have to think of creative ways to celebrate,” said Mom. “So we’re having Pioneer Night. Will you help me get ready?”
Benjamin and Sammy nodded. As they helped Mom, Benjamin felt more and more excited. Soon Dad got home from work.
“What’s this?” he said when he saw the kitchen table set with checkered napkins, glass jars, and pie tins.
“It’s Pioneer Night!” Benjamin said, handing Dad a red bandana to tie around his neck. He and Sammy were both wearing cowboy hats from their costume box.
“This looks fun!” said Dad. Then he sniffed the air. “And something smells really good.” Mom was stirring a pot of stew at the stove.
“Before we eat, we have to make butter for the cornbread,” said Sammy.
Mom poured cream into a jar and screwed the lid on tight. After shaking for a few minutes, she handed the jar to Sammy. They all took turns shaking until there was a lump of butter inside!
After dinner they had a special family night. Dad showed them a black-and-white picture.
“This is Joseph Francis, your great-great-great grandpa,” Dad said. “He came to the United States with his family when he was 13 years old.”
Dad talked about how Joseph sailed from England and then worked in a factory to earn money to cross the plains. Benjamin couldn’t believe a boy who was just older than he was had done so many hard things.
Then Mom shared a story from her family history. “My mother, your grandma Hunsaker, met the missionaries when she was 13 years old. When she prayed to know if their message was true, she felt the Holy Ghost tell her to be baptized. Because of her decision, I grew up knowing about the gospel. My mother is a pioneer because she set a righteous example for others to follow.”
Benjamin liked that. Maybe there were ways he could be a pioneer! He was still thinking about it when Dad said it was time for the closing song and prayer.
“Now we can have the treat!” Sammy said. Mom handed everyone a cookie, some candies, and a few other yummy things. She showed them how to make wagons with marshmallows like white canvases on top.
“These wagons sure taste good,” Sammy said as he took a big bite. “I’m glad the pioneers went to Utah.”
Go to “Family Night Fun” to see how to make your own wagons!
“And I’m glad we don’t always have to make our own butter!” Benjamin said with a laugh. His life was different from the early pioneers, but he knew they all had one thing in common: they all believed in the gospel of Jesus Christ!

Years ago, while serving as a stake president, I submitted a recommendation for a brother to serve as an ordinance worker in the temple. After explaining what a wonderful ordinance worker he would be, I inadvertently pressed “Do not endorse,” which submitted the recommendation. After unsuccessfully trying to recall the message, I called the temple president and said, “I have made a horrible mistake.” Without hesitation, this good temple president said, “President Eyre, there is nothing that you have done that can’t be forgiven and ultimately corrected.” What a great truth. Indeed, Jesus Christ is “mighty to save.”

Some of these spunky women were instrumental in bringing education, culture, and women’s rights to their communities. At age fourteen Ida Frances Hunt Udall13 had progressed in her education to the point where she served as bookkeeper for the Beaver Woolen Mills. One of a family of eight children, she made the cloth she received in payment for her work into dresses for herself, her mother, and her five little sisters. When she was eighteen her father moved the family across the mountains to Joseph City, in Sevier County, where Ida taught in a log cabin school and continued to develop her musical abilities.

In 1877, when Ida was nineteen, her father and mother responded to the urge to move to Arizona. Ida drove one of the teams on the three-month journey and kept a daily record of that journey in pencil on a still extant stub of a receipt book.

There Ida spent several years teaching until David Udall went to Snowflake, Arizona, searching for a Spanish-speaking clerk for his store in St. Johns; he found much in common with Ida. After several months she became his wife. That was in 1882. In the years that followed Ida bore six children, a daughter and five sons, the rearing and caring of whom devolved mostly upon her because of Bishop Udall’s important Church and civic responsibilities. In the words of Pauline Udall Smith:
“She half soled their shoes, barbered their hair and made every article of clothing they wore until they were nearly grown. She made butter and cheese for sale, raised chickens and a garden each year, while at the same time cooking for hired men. … [She also] found time for the refinement of life. There were petunias blooming in the window or mignonettes in the yard. On the wall hung pictures, the frames of which she had fashioned from pine cones. The Mexican house in which she lived, often ran tubs of water through its leaky roof, yet she never gave up the yearly going over its ceilings and walls herself with the white wash brush. The rag carpet on the floor had taken hours of her time to make, but brought comfort and cheer to her home.
“On the Sabbath day, she was often seen in the cart with its shafts drawn by one horse, accompanied by her children and their cousins on the way to the school house, one mile distant, or perhaps walking another time. There, a Sunday School class would be taught by her or a choir practice held. In the evening, the hired men and boys gathered around the coal-oil lamp, after the evening meal, and listened to Aunt Ida, as everyone called her, play the guitar and sing.”14
Despite crop failures due to drouth and many health problems, this serene intellectual introduced culture and education into many frontier LDS communities in Arizona.

As a teenager, I had a bad attitude. One day, I came home from seventh grade, slammed my books on the table, and began my habitual rant about the mounds of unfair homework, friends that ditched me, girls that ignored me, and the injustice of being shorter than not just the seventh graders but most of the fifth graders.
My mom unsympathetically put down her iron and replied to my complaints: “You know Blake, you can’t always choose your circumstances, but you can choose your attitude. And by the way, you have a list of chores you need to do before dinner.”
My mom’s words settled deep. I am not sure why, but it is as if it were the first time I had entertained the notion that I did have some control over situations that in the past left me feeling like a victim, powerless over my destiny. It was empowering.
I suddenly understood obstacles were here to stay but my attitude and how I reacted was 100 percent mine. Mom was right and at that moment I had what the Savior refers to as a change of heart.

In closing I want to share a special moment in the history of these united institutions. 1966 was very important in the history of the Polynesian Cultural Center. Since the opening of the PCC in 1963 great efforts had been expended to make the Center well known. These efforts seemed to lead to a grand pinnacle with a mainland tour of the Night Show in late summer of 1966. The PCC student performers toured Southern California and Utah. The show, titled, "Festival Polynesia," consisted of 175 performers.

After months of dedicated rehearsing the two-week tour began at Hollywood Bowl on August 31, 1966. Almost one hundred thousand people attended the four performances, the largest audiences of the season. Newspaper and magazine reviews were nearly ecstatic. Robert Riley, music critic of the Los Angeles Times, wrote, "In the 50 years of its history, it is unlikely that Hollywood Bowl has ever been the scene of a more uniquely beautiful spectacle than 'Festival Polynesia,'" and that the show was providing "nights of never-to-be-forgotten gifts on Los Angeles. " One critic said the presentation of the fire-knife dancers was "utterly spectacular, with flaming torches tossed about recklessly and men with seemingly asbestos skins rivaling Indian fakirs in their disregard of danger as they leaped over the flames and smothered them with their bare bodies." Portions of "Festival Polynesia" were taped during the day at the Bowl for showing on September 18, on the "Ed Sullivan Show. " For the PCC this was all a smashing success.

For a group of Latter-day Saint students from the islands the tour would have been disappointing without a visit to the center of the Mormon Church. After a train trip to Salt Lake City, the group performed six times at the Highland High School auditorium. The performances were extremely well accepted, but for the Church College of Hawai'i students, their visit in his office at Church headquarters with President David O. McKay, the founder of the College and the PCC, and again the next day with him at his home in Huntsville, Utah, were the highlights of the tour. Ninety-two-year-old President McKay and his wife, Emma Rae, greeted the Polynesian students on the front porch of their country home. Having visited in 1921 all of the island groups represented, and again during the 1950s, President McKay had a special attachment and affection for the farewell songs of the islands. Among the farewell songs sung that day in Huntsville was Samoa's "Goodbye My Feleni," goodbye my friend. The words, "Oh, I never will forget you," touched every heart. As Craig Ferre wrote, "Having never lost sight of his goals for the Polynesians, [President] McKay had been instrumental in making possible, in a sense, for them to be there. Now at first hand he was able to witness the fruits of his labors. And surely all those assembled there never forgot that experience. As they were about to leave, President McKay told them: 'This is marvelous. I never will forget you. You make this spot more hallowed.'"