Gospel Story Finder

In the early years of our marriage, Sister Meha and I were not blessed with children. We desired to start a family soon after our sealing in the Laie Hawaii Temple. We lived in Temple View Apartments, where most of our neighbors were expecting children. Naturally, as students we were both busy with classes, working at the Polynesian Cultural Center and fulfilling church callings. When would we ever find time to have children? We waited and waited. A year before graduation an offer came from Bro. Barney Wihongi, principal of the Church College of New Zealand to join the faculty in January 1983.

Leaving TVA we felt that the expectation to have children would be lifted because we were living in a different community far removed from Laie. But Temple View is a smaller version of Laie. There is a temple and a Church school and most of the people living there knew me as I had graduated from CCNZ, and they soon got to know Sis. Meha. We continued to serve and in fact, those years were some of the most rewarding for us as a newly married couple.

We served in a student ward at CCNZ. When Sister Meha was the Mia Maid Advisor, I was the Teachers Quorum Advisor. Later, she served as the Laurel Advisor and I served as Priest's Quorum Advisor. In a student ward with about one hundred and fifty students it was not unusual to have a quorum of twenty five teachers and a quorum of twenty five priests. I can still see the faces of those bright, energetic, young men, many of whom served honorable proselyting missions and have become good husbands and fathers.

We did not have two-deep leadership in the Young Mens' program in those days, so I was the scout leader on weeknights and the quorum advisor on Sundays. In addition to my teaching assignment, I was expected to support student clubs and organizations and give additional time to support school activities on weekends. It soon became a challenge to find the kind of time together that we longed for while living in TVA and clearly did not have at CCNZ. At least once a month, the priests would come to our small home for a fireside—all twenty five of them. On occasion, the Laurels would join them for an activity usually involving lots of food. I'm sure those activities were well attended because of the chance for students to mingle and have fun.

In some of her spare time, Sister Meha taught in the Religion Department, a first experience for her as she had not enjoyed the experience of early morning seminary classes as a youth. Her introduction to gospel study was in the religion classes taken on this campus as an undergraduate. Our lives were very busy yet we longed for a child. We would have to wait five years before our eldest child was born while we lived in Temple View. During that period of waiting we were being prepared for Jayson's arrival and the blessings that soon followed. Our hearts were mellowed and accepting of Heavenly Father's plan for our family. We prayed fervently to be blessed with each of our children. Our prayers were answered, but we needed to learn that He has a purpose and timetable for us and that He will bless us as we are patient and wait upon Him.

Surprisingly, my mother had some fond memories of being “in camp.” My mom shared how she learned to ice-skate “in camp.” I found it weird for someone to learn ice-skating “in camp,” thinking she was referring to just your average yearly summer camp. It wasn’t until I learned about WWII and the internment camps that I understood what she meant by “in camp.”
As I was growing up, she openly shared what she remembered from her camp years, and several times she mentioned the love and kindness of her “Mormon schoolteacher,” Mrs. Westover. I later learned that Mrs. Maurine Westover went above and beyond to love and serve her students. She gave them gifts during the holidays and planned parties with the understanding that all her students were of different faiths, including Buddhism.
June Takiuchi’s fourth-grade class at the Topaz internment camp. June’s teacher, Maurine Westover (far right), was a member of the Church. (You can watch a video in which Sister Westover shares her memories of the camp at westoverfamilyhistory.org/the-spirit-of-receiving.)
My mom and her parents endured a difficult three years, but whenever they spoke of camp, they always spoke with praise and gratitude for the members of the Church who worked in the camp, and of the compassion and empathy that they had for the Japanese people.

Mother had been living with me for almost five years. In love and gratitude I was glad I could care for her just as she had cared for me for so many years. But I missed her smiles and humorous comments. I longed to have her experience again the joy and excitement she had once felt when she went on rides with me. It hadn’t really mattered where we went. Mother never missed pointing out the flowers, the birds on the telephone wires, or the children playing.
I missed the companionship we had enjoyed as we peeled potatoes, snapped beans, or read together. I longed to share childhood experiences with her and tell her news about my siblings and her grandchildren. She had always enjoyed family dropping by, especially the grandchildren. But now her dementia had changed things. She really wasn’t sure anymore who I was, other than someone special who cared for her.
It had been a particularly difficult day with Mother. She gave me the usual blank stares when I tried to make conversation and distrustful looks when I tried to assist her. I was exhausted and frustrated as I sat down on the couch to think. I began to read aloud one of Mother’s journals in hopes that she might be entertained by it and perhaps remember a little. My efforts proved futile, but as I continued to read to myself, the memories surfaced in me.
In those pages Mother repeatedly expressed the joy she had felt when her family would visit and the void she had felt when they left. She wrote of how hard it had been for her when my father became ill and, after a long struggle, had left her a widow at the age of 59. She wrote of how she missed Father and of how she worried about my older brother, who was stricken with the same disease.
Mother wrote of happy, fulfilling experiences like teaching Church classes and participating in single adult activities. She wrote of the satisfaction she had received in going to Dilkon, Arizona, to teach the gospel once a week on the Navajo Indian reservation. This brought to my mind how she had always emphasized the importance of being dependable when someone was counting on you. Sometimes her entries were short because she had been helping someone; they reminded me of how she often took food or gifts to anyone she thought needed help or cheer. Many times in her entries she bore her testimony of the gospel.
I was especially touched by how she expressed the sorrow and worry she had felt when my daughter was born with Down syndrome and associated problems. Had she really spent almost a whole month feeding and caring for our other children as my husband and I went back and forth to the hospital while Debra Sue underwent open-heart surgery and related complications? Yes! And she had done it at age 70!
I remembered how she had always been there for me when I needed her. Through the years I learned that if she could not be with me in person, her faithful letters and prayers would sustain me.
That night, as I sang hymns to Mother to calm her to sleep, I had an overwhelming surge of love for my brave, always-sacrificing mother and deep gratitude for the words of her journal that had brought her back to me.

I could go on and tell of similar experiences with other General Authorities. Just before a recent general conference, we attended a luncheon at the Hotel Utah. Elder LeGrand Richards had recently undergone an operation and was walking with his cane. Elder Packer gave him his arm to steady him going down the steps and along the walk to the Church Office Building, matching his steps to those of Elder Richards in a show of affection. As we passed them, Elder Franklin Richards said, “Take good care of him, Elder Packer.” He replied, “I surely will. He’s precious.” And he is.

I would like to give a modern day example of how the Church prospered in a certain area because of the diligent work of one man. Back in the year 2000 we were working on an Encyclopedia of Latter-day Saint history at BYU in Provo. As part of that project we asked experts to write short articles on the history of The Church in over 180 different countries. We had completed the manuscript and sent it to the publisher. Then I received a telephone call from Kenya, Africa. It was from Dale LeBaron, one of the authors who had written several of our articles on the countries of Africa. He asked if we had sent the manuscript in for publication. I answered, yes. Then, with considerable emotion he said: “Stop the press! Let me tell you what is happening in Mozambique right now. A man named Francisco Dique Sousa has unofficially organized about 500 unbaptized followers into nine branches and they have built six meetinghouses. They have been waiting for the Church to send authorized missionaries to teach them. This week four missionaries have finally arrived and they are teaching scores of investigators. Some people are literally waiting outside their huts all day long to be taught.” Well, many of those investigators joined The Church and an official Branch was soon created. I think Francisco Sousa is an excellent example of one who “Labored without ceasing to bring souls unto Christ.”

When I had a heart attack up in Grace, Idaho, back in 1942, I was away from my work for six weeks. I was then the Presiding Bishop of the Church, and I tell you I almost sweat blood to think that I had to be on that bed and couldn’t be out working. So the first meeting that we attended as a bishopric with the First Presidency after I returned, I said to the Presidency, “I found out what hell is.”
President Clark said, “What is it, Bishop?”
I said, “To see the other fellow working when you can’t work.” I said, “If there’s any truth to the words of the song that there’s sweet, sweet rest in heaven,’ I’m going to ask to be routed the other way.”
My counselor, Bishop Ashton, was witty, as you might remember, and he said, “Well, Bishop, I wouldn’t worry too much about that if I were you. You may not have to ask for it.”
I said, “Yeah, I’ve thought of that too.”

One Saturday several years after having been called as a General Authority Seventy, Elder Patrick Kearon and his wife, Jennifer, were entering a supermarket as Elder W. Rolfe Kerr and his wife, Janeil, were leaving. They visited briefly, and then the Kerrs headed to their car.
Almost immediately, a man approached Elder Kearon and excitedly asked him, “Was that a General Authority you were speaking to?” Elder Kearon responded, “Yes. That was Elder W. Rolfe Kerr of the Seventy.” The man nodded, looked directly at Elder Kearon without recognizing him, and said, “You can always tell a General Authority, can’t you?” Then the man hurried off.
“I love that story because it so represents how I feel,” says Elder Kearon with a smile. “I could have the same experience today, and that man would still probably not pick me out of a crowd as being a General Authority.”

The other young man was a missionary. As mission president of the Uruguay/Paraguay Mission I received a letter from a nonmember, writing me from Asuncion, Paraguay. In essence this is what he wrote:
“I had been in the President Strossner Airport in Asuncion, Paraguay, waiting for a flight, when a young North American missionary approached me.
“I learned quickly that the missionary was going home, having finished his mission. In fact, they were in the process of calling the young missionary’s flight. This missionary took the time, in spite of the fact that he was leaving the country, to sit by me for a moment, share his testimony, and leave me the tract ‘The Word of Wisdom.’ It puzzled me as to why he would do that when he was going home and had already completed his mission. He had no reason to approach me, but he carried the Spirit with him, and I am sure that I felt it as well.
“I have since read the tract ‘The Word of Wisdom’ and feel that the words from Joseph Smith contained therein are true. I particularly want you to know what a great missionary you have, as I felt the Spirit of the Lord through him. Could you please send representatives of your Church to teach me the gospel so that I might become a member of the Mormon church?”

The annual crop of sugar beets isn’t the only thing that makes Sugar City, Idaho, a sweet place to be. A small group of boys in the senior class at Salem High School in Sugar City, who are all priests in the Sugar City Idaho Stake, decided that they would make Valentine’s Day special for all the girls at their school.
The boys got a red rose for every woman and girl in the school and arranged with the principal to present them at a special Valentine’s Day assembly during the last hour of school on February 14. Not a single girl knew about the assembly ahead of time, since all the boys talked about their plans in code, calling it “Project A.”
It’s an idea that the girls fell in love with.

In England, Elder Woodruff learned that a large group of people called the United Brethren had gathered to worship and to ask God for more knowledge of truth.
Elder Woodruff: John, this is inspired! The Lord sent me to Hereford to teach these people.
Elder Woodruff’s success with the United Brethren was even more astounding than his boyhood success with fishing. In two days he baptized six hundred people!
Constable: I have been ordered to arrest you, Elder Woodruff, for preaching to the people.
Elder Woodruff: But I have a license to preach the gospel, sir. If you will sit in this chair until the meeting is over, we will talk about this misunderstanding and get it settled.
By the end of the meeting, there was nothing left to settle.
Constable: I, too, wish to be baptized, Elder Woodruff.
Four ministers: So do we.

Let me give you a popular example of one such disagreement: One day I was at the home of very kind and faithful Latter-day Saint friends. As I glanced around their room I noticed a beautiful flier with the saying: "I never said it would be easy; I only said it would be worth it."

The pronoun in the sentence suggested that those words would have been declared by the Savior. I pointed to my host that in reality the Savior had never expressed the idea that living the gospel wouldn't be easy, but instead he had stated: "... my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." (Matthew 11:30) My host then stated: "You're right. The Savior said the opposite." But after a moment the person added: "But the statement is so beautiful ... I'll keep it where it is." With that reply, I didn't say another word.

One day, I was playing a trivia game with two of my neighbors. In the game you draw a card and answer the question on it. If you answer correctly, you get to advance on the game board. I drew a card that asked this question: “One of the world’s major religions was established by a man named Joseph Smith. What is the common name for the members of this religion?” My two neighbors are not members of the Church, so they looked confused, but I had a big smile on my face. I knew the answer! I quickly said, “Mormons!” I was so surprised to read a card about my religion. I was very happy that I knew the right answer.

Several years ago, while I was serving as president of the Fiji Suva Mission, some missionaries had an experience which reinforced in them the converting power of the Book of Mormon. On a hot and humid day, two elders arrived at a home in a small settlement in Labasa.

The knock on the door was answered by a weathered man who listened as the missionaries testified of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon. They gave him a copy and invited him to read and to pray to know, like them, that it is the word of God. His reply was brief: “Tomorrow I return to fishing. I will read it while at sea, and when I return, you may visit me again.”

While he was away, transfers were made, and a few weeks later, a new companionship of elders returned to visit the fisherman. By this time he had read the entire Book of Mormon, had received confirmation of its truthfulness, and was eager to learn more.

This man had been converted by the Holy Ghost, who witnessed of the truth of the precious words on every page of events and doctrine taught long ago and preserved for our day in the Book of Mormon. That same blessing is available to each of us.

I was born in Fiji. My parents were not members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but they went to another church.
When I grew up, I married my wife, Anita. She was a member of the Church. She kept inviting the missionaries over to meet me.
One day I told them they could come to dinner for the next three nights. I said they had to use only the Bible to answer my questions. Their answers were perfect. On the third night, they asked me a question.
“If you had a grocery store, what would you call it?”
“I would call it the Wakolo Family Grocery Store because it’s my store,” I answered.
“Who should a church be named after?” they asked.
It was a great question. And I knew the answer with my heart and soul. The true Church would be named after Jesus because it’s His Church. And The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was named after Him!
I had just one more question: “When can I be baptized?” One week later, I was.
When I was baptized, I took upon myself Jesus Christ’s name. That means I became a member of His Church and promised to follow Him. I try my best every day to live as He did. I know that this is Jesus Christ’s true Church.

It was hot—too hot to do anything but think about how to get cool. The grass-hoppers were popping from spot to spot like sprinkles on a hot griddle, and the grass along the roadside was singed brittle and brown.
Papa liked the hot weather. He said it was good for the crops.
“I think I’ll just walk down to the field and listen to the corn grow,” he announced after breakfast. “Anyone want to come along?”
“Not me,” I said. “It’s too hot.”
“Me neither,” Ed agreed.
“What are you going to do, hon?” he asked Mama.
“As long as it’s miserable anyway, I figure I might as well do a hot job and get it over with,” she said. “I’m going to make apple butter from the windfalls the kids picked up last night. I’ll save my resting time for a day when I can enjoy it.”
“Do you ever have any resting time?” Papa wanted to know.
“Not much,” she answered. “‘A man works from sun to sun, but women’s work is never done.’”
Then turning to me, she said, “Dora, if you’ll just wash the bottles for me, you can go play when you’re through.”
Washing the bottles was a nice sloshy job in the sudsy water and usually good to cool me off, but today the effort left me sticky and uncomfortable. I sat down under a tree and leaned against the rough bark. How I longed for a nice drink of cool water. The drinking water in the barrel got warm so fast in hot weather that it was no use to try to keep it cool. I looked up idly at our water tank. The water was always cool after the windmill pumped it from deep in the ground. If I climb up the ladder with a cup, I mused, I could have my drink. But I didn’t want to move. I just wanted to lie in the shade of the tank with a little trickle of cool water running into my mouth. If I had a long, thin tube, I thought, I could siphon it out and do just that. I could even let it drip over me and cool me off. But I’ve never seen a small one like I need. What can I makeone with? Straw? Not big enough, probably, and not long enough, either, unless I slide one length inside the other.
“I know,” I almost shouted. “Onion stems!” There were long, hollow ones in the garden holding up the fat white blooms, tapered just enough that the top of one would slide into the bottom of the next one. It would take a lot of stems to reach all the way to the top of the tank, but we had a big onion patch.
I forgot how hot I was and ran to make my long green pipe. Then I climbed with it to the top of the tank. I had separated it a few links short of the top and sucked up enough water to start the siphon action when I accidentally let the long piece fall to the ground. That meant another trip down the ladder to get it and one up to connect it again. By the time my refreshing onion-flavored drink was flowing, I was nearly melted with the heat. I lay under the tank and let the water drip over me and into my mouth. What luxury! A little breeze danced by and already I felt cooler. I didn’t want to move—ever—just lie there and guide the end of the hose around to cool me off.
I drizzled water over me until my hair had shrunk into corkscrew curls and my clothes were damp. I was cool as a cucumber. I guess I smelled a little like a pickle too. Whenever I’d had enough water for a while, I’d shut it off by tying a knot in the end of the onion stem. Soon this one section was wearing out and I needed to replace it.
“Dora … Dora!” Ed was calling me in his coaxing voice. That usually meant he wanted me to do something for him. I dropped my spigot and walked over to where he was.
“We’re going to go swimming. Do you want to go with us?”
“Nah, I don’t want to.” I started to walk away.
“How come you never want to swim?” he asked.
“I don’t like drowning. That’s why.”
“You’ve never drowned yet,” he reminded me.
“I don’t intend to either,” I told him. “Even if I did go swimming, it wouldn’t be a hundred miles up in the air where you can’t climb out on the ground.”
“Ah, come on, Dora,” he coaxed. “We need you for a lookout so we don’t get caught.”
“What’ll you give me?”
“A pretty bottle. I found one where Papa was digging. Been buried a long time, and it’s purple.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Will you come?”
Why not? I thought. “If it’s as pretty as you say,” I finally agreed.
He pulled a piece of lavender colored glass from his pocket.
“It’s broken,” I said.
“Didn’t say it wasn’t,” he replied. “But just look at the color when the light shines through it.”
He was right. It was beautiful.
It was a long walk to the swimming spot we had found on the other edge of town. I guess it was worth it to the boys, who liked to be sweating hot when they climbed up the side and dropped into the cool water of the tank that stood by the tracks to fill the tenders of the train locomotives when they came by.
All my coolness had evaporated in the heat, and I stood waiting for the boys in the shade below the tank. I was grateful for any breeze that stirred the air to cool me off, and I kicked back the hot sand with my bare feet to see if there was a cooler spot underneath.
“When are you coming down?” I shouted up. I was answered only by loud splashes and playful laughing. They didn’t hear me. They didn’t even hear the mournful wail of the faraway train whistle or my shouts of “Train’s coming!”
They did hear the wild shriek of the brakes, though, as the engine shuddered to a stop. The sudden suspension of splashing in the tank told me that. I knew it was too late for them to climb out now without being caught, so I hid down in the shadows and tried to look invisible.
The engineer jumped out and turned on the spigot to fill the water tender on his train. If he noticed me, he ignored me. Soon he closed the valve, climbed back in the engine, and with a double toot of the whistle was on his way again.
After the train sounds died away, Ed shouted down, “Turn some more water into the tank.”
“What for? Aren’t you wet enough already?” I teased.
“So we can get out. That train drank half the water, and we can’t reach the top.”
“Can’t reach the bottom either,” Frank added.
“Where’s the tap?” I asked, looking around for it. I could only see the one the engineer used to drain the tank.
“I don’t know,” Ed shouted impatiently, “but find it!”
Finally I found another valve. But the tap had been shut off by stronger hands than mine. “I’m not strong enough,” I cried.
“Oh, come on,” Ed encouraged. “Try harder.”
“Why don’t you stand on each other’s shoulders?” I suggested.
“We tried that, and it doesn’t work. We still can’t reach.”
“Climb up the sides then.”
“It’s too slippery,” Ed called.
“Go get Papa,” Frank insisted.
“He’ll be mad,” I reminded him.
“He sure will,” Ed said, reconsidering.
Finally, however, there seemed to be no other solution, so I started off on a run to find Papa.
I was stumbling from fatigue and panting for breath when Mr. Leslie, one of our neighbors, came along on his horse.
“Why, what’s the matter, Dora?” he asked.
“My brothers will drown in the water tank. They can’t get out.”
“The train tank? They shouldn’t be in there.”
“I know they shouldn’t, but they are. They were swimming and the train came along and took most of the water. Now they can’t reach the top to get out and I can’t turn on the tap and they’ll drown.”
“There, there, now calm down. We’ll get them out,” Mr. Leslie said soothingly. “I have my rope right here.” He reached down and pulled me up behind him on the horse, and we loped all the way back to the tank.
“Ed?” I called to the silence that had settled down as we rode up. “Mr. Leslie’s going to turn on the water.”
When the water started running into the tank in a slow trickle, Mr. Leslie climbed up and pulled the boys out one at a time with the rope. When they were all out and scrambling into their clothes, Ed asked Mr. Leslie, “You aren’t going to tell Papa about this, are you?”
“Can’t think of any reason why not,” Mr. Leslie replied.
“ ’Cause he’ll whip us good,” Frank said.
“A little whippin’ never hurt any boy that I know of,” Mr. Leslie teased.
“He’ll never let us go swimming again,” Frank pleaded.
“It’ll save us a lot of trouble if you could just forget this happened,” Ed suggested. “We’re willing to pay by working for you. We’ll both pull weeds for you for half a day.”
“I’ll help too,” I offered.
The next morning when we got up Papa was waiting with a little green willow.
“Somebody needs a whipping,” he said. I couldn’t figure out how he’d heard about swimming in the train tank so soon.
“Come over here,” he directed, and he led us out by our water tank. “Look at that mess.” He pointed to a mire where the cows had sloshed up and down all night in the mud made by my siphon. He picked up the onion hose that had been pulled from the tank.
“Who,” he thundered, “thought of this?”
“I didn’t do it,” Ed said.
“Me neither,” Frank insisted.
“Well, I’m sure it wasn’t Georgie,” Papa said. “Dora, was it you?”
I turned my face down so I wouldn’t have to look at his blazing eyes, and he could tell I was guilty.
“Run along, boys,” he said. “I have some private business with Dora.”
He had to switch me a little so I’d learn my lesson. Then when he was through he said, “That was really a smart way to get a cold drink, but it sure made a mess, didn’t it? Next time remember to turn it off.”
(To be continued.)

Jenny and Peter are the oldest of Bruce and Margaret Flinn’s children. The others are Lindsey, 14; Neal, 12; Elizabeth (“Lizzy”), 9; and Rachel, 5. To visit the Flinns on their six-acre smallholding (family farm) is to see not two, but eight people who know a lot about working. To visit them is also to see much of what can make a family succeed.
“We moved here as much for the children’s sake as because of our own feelings,” explains Brother Flinn, who works full-time as a seminary teacher supervisor in addition to maintaining the smallholding. “Because of my work, I travel a lot. It would probably be easier to live in town.”
“But if we moved,” Sister Flinn says, “our quality of life would drop. We couldn’t keep all the livestock. We wouldn’t learn all the skills about being self-reliant. We might not know as much about how to love work.”
How to love work?
“We believe in the principle of work,” Brother Flinn explains. “We believe it’s a spiritual principle. It’s not just obtaining the end result; it’s the actual doing of the work. It’s good for you.”
And how does that fly with the children?
“When we complain about having to do things,” Lindsey says, “Mum will say, ‘Fine. Shall we move to the town?’ None of us has ever said yes.”
“There are pros and cons to everything,” Peter says. “But I’d say I’m fine here.”
Now all this talk about willingness to work may have you thinking the Flinns are ready to be translated. Far from it. They’re a typical family with teasing and quarrels and sometimes tears, just like any family. But they’ve learned to work at being a family, too.
“What do we gain from being together?” Jenny asks. “Patience, mainly.”
Does she ever think about being with her family forever?
“When they’re not annoying me,” she teases.
Her ability to laugh is typical of the entire family. They enjoy jousting verbally, but also know they have to do it with love so that feelings aren’t hurt.
“Everybody’s got their own personality,” Lindsey says. “We’ve learned to adjust for that. Besides, if you say anything negative, Dad makes you say two things positive on top of that.”
Other challenges? “One of the biggest ones is juggling time,” Jenny says. “I have to care for the animals twice a day, so that’s an hour each morning and evening, and in between I’ve got school. And there’s homework, two hours every night, and seminary is home study, so I have to find time for that, too.”
Church activity can be a struggle because of isolation. “We’re 50 miles from the stake center,” Peter explains. “There’s lots of traveling involved, and not everyone has a car. There’s only two of us in my quorum, and the other one lives 40 miles away. We make an effort to see if he wants to come out, but there are various problems, like parents who don’t want to bring him in because it’s out of the way. Distance is the major drawback.”
And in school, being a Latter-day Saint doesn’t mean that there isn’t temptation all around. Twelve-year-old Neal says a survey showed there were only two people in his entire class who hadn’t used alcohol. Jenny says there are “quite a few” girls in her year that have become pregnant.
What’s the counterbalance?
“We have good lessons at church,” Jenny says. “We have good lessons at seminary. And good home evenings at home. We live for Fridays (Mutual night) and Sundays to be with Church kids and strengthen each other.” And, of course, there are scriptures, and prayer, and family support.
“If I have a really major problem, I know I can turn to my family,” Lindsey says. “I suppose I’d call them my best friends. If I didn’t have them to turn to, where would I go?”
That’s an attitude Jenny exemplified when, even though she was sitting exams (taking finals) and needed to study, she walked down to the school to help Rachel. “Mum and Dad were late getting home,” Jenny said matter-of-factly. “I knew Rachael would panic if no one showed up.”
That’s part of being a family, part of what the Flinns learn every day.
Step into the Flinns’ family room, and you’ll notice one wall is adorned with corn dollies, the kind actually made from wheat.
“You have to braid the stalk while it’s flexible,” Sister Flinn explains. “When it gets old, it’s brittle and won’t bend.” It’s an analogy that isn’t lost on her.
“That’s what we’re doing as a family,” she says. “We live the gospel. We learn about family love. And the children braid them both into their lives.”

Note: No matter how strong someone’s belief in the gospel of Jesus Christ, staying faithful can be difficult for new and returning members if they feel like they don’t belong. In this article we examine what members who are already in the fold can do to welcome others in. In the December issue we will look at what those who feel they’re on the outside can do to find their place.
Within a month of Melissa’s (all names have been changed) baptism in the Midwestern United States, she offered the opening prayer in sacrament meeting. She was nervous about praying publicly but “felt every confidence in my ability to speak to my Heavenly Father,” she recalls. “After all, I had been praying for years, especially while investigating the Church, and could feel the Holy Ghost helping me.”
So it was with surprise that she received an email from a ward member who described “in great detail” all of the ways her prayer was wrong. Shame, embarrassment, and an onslaught of doubt raced through Melissa until she felt prompted to call the returned missionary who had taught her. “He quickly assured me that it was totally inappropriate for this member to criticize me in such a way,” she says. “He also told me the bishopric would never ask another member, as I had assumed, to give me this kind of feedback.”
Reassured, Melissa remained active in the ward, accepted callings, and went on to flourish in her faith. But it took several months to get over the pain and lost confidence from receiving that discouraging email.
Unfortunately, Melissa’s story is not unique. Many new and returning members face significant, but often avoidable, challenges from feeling like they don’t belong. Sometimes even those with strong testimonies struggle to remain faithful when they feel excluded. In a recent video series titled Unity in Diversity, Church leaders address this issue, encouraging members to be more sensitive, inclusive, and loving in our interactions.
The following stories help to illustrate how we as members can apply these principles and offer genuine friendship and emotional support to those who hunger for heartfelt acceptance in the Lord’s Church.
“When anyone’s shadow darkens the door of a chapel, they ought to feel immediately embraced and loved and lifted and inspired …to go and be better because they know the Lord loves them and because they have friends in their faith.”
—Carol F. McConkie, First Counselor in the Young Women General Presidency
Melissa needed genuine friends, especially in her ward, she could approach when she needed advice or help. Her husband and daughter hadn’t joined the Church with her.
“Coming to church and seeing all the families made me feel deeply alone,” she says. Everyone was friendly, but even their happiness made her feel as though “I would never attain that Mormon glow because I was the only one with problems.”
In addition to the returned missionary who had taught her, Melissa was blessed with Cindy, an online friend who had first introduced her to the Church. “It was hard to watch Melissa struggling in her local area as I looked on helplessly,” Cindy explains. “So I created a private Facebook group with a few incredibly grounded, loving, diverse members who helped and befriended her in ways I could never do alone.”
The group not only offered a sense of inclusion for Melissa while she found her place in her ward but also responded to questions about lifestyle and cultural concerns. “I was raised in tank tops and short shorts,” Melissa says. She appreciated online friends who responded with photos of outfits she could check out in local stores. This encouraged her to ask sisters in her ward for movie recommendations after she no longer felt comfortable with some selections in her collection.
An important aspect of friendshipping, Melissa points out, is that she sought the advice. Unsolicited advice feels like intrusion rather than inclusion, an invasion of privacy that can be hurtful to those who aren’t prepared for it.
Eventually, Melissa was called to teach in Relief Society. Her calling provided opportunities to interact with others in the ward. Melissa shared with the sisters her difficulties not only in adjusting as a new member but also in dealing with an autistic child, some personal health issues, and “Oh, and my dog is dying.” The experience of having other sisters listen and respond with their own difficulties in class and in private conversations proved deeply healing. These connections helped Melissa feel that she finally had true friends in the faith.
“The Savior commanded His followers to ‘love one another; as I have loved you’ (John 13:34; emphasis added). So we look at how He loved us. …If we make Him our role model, we should always be trying to reach out to include everyone.”
—Elder Dallin H. Oaks of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles
Robert, an investigator in Canada, has attended a variety of LDS meetings and activities. He has researched various religions but continues studying the Church because of the inspiration he has found in its doctrine and the Book of Mormon. He attends institute to learn more and finds the social environment “refreshingly wholesome, friendly, with a really good vibe,” he says. “Mormons are the nicest people in the world.”
A self-described introvert, Robert wants to interact but says, “I tend to hug the walls, unsure of how to be part of the groups, some of them long-term LDS friends who don’t seem to need anyone else.” But it doesn’t take much to ease this sense of isolation. During an activity, he recalls, “someone came up to me after dinner and encouraged me to stay for the movie; otherwise, I would have left, but instead I had a great time. I just needed to know that someone wanted me there.”
Like Melissa, he appreciates LDS friends who explain doctrine but don’t get too specific about how to live it. Friends who listen more than they admonish are like “someone who walks beside you, as opposed to pushing from behind to make you go faster. Most of the time, you just trip and stumble.”
Robert has struggled to give up smoking. His discomfort illustrates how those who are new are deeply aware of their differences. “Not one member has ever said anything to me about smelling like smoke,” he says. “Yet if my clothes aren’t fresh out of the laundry, I will stay home from institute or church.”
We can create a greater sense of belonging as we reassure and include those who are new to the Church. Elder D. Todd Christofferson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles says, “It breaks my heart if someone comes and is very vulnerable and says … , ‘I want to be here,’ and then gets a cold shoulder or a lack of interest. That’s tragic. …We have to be better than that” (“Is There a Place for Me?” [video], lds.org/media-library).
“When you choose to put yourself out there, you are blessing someone else’s life. …Can you look for the person who is sitting on the outside, sitting on the fringe? …When you’ve opened your heart to other people, you see that we all belong.”
—Jean B. Bingham, Relief Society General President
After Elsa joined the Church in the Netherlands, she experienced a genuine connection with a loving Heavenly Father. But as a young single adult, she also dealt with loneliness when family members and friends felt uncomfortable with her new religious beliefs and habits. “The best thing members have done for me,” she said, “is to willingly befriend me outside of church. Some go to the temple to do baptisms with me even though they have been endowed. I need to interact with members beyond Sunday to get strength and endure to the end.”
Elsa feels like her biggest challenge as a recent convert is “the expectation to suddenly understand everything,” she says. “All the acronyms, events, callings. It can be a little mind-blowing, and I sometimes worry people are judging me for not learning faster.” Additionally, like many others, she experiences social anxiety that “keeps me comfortable sitting toward the back of the chapel, rarely interacting.” Large groups are daunting, and she wonders if others judge her for her lack of participation. “It’s not that I don’t want to take part in the lessons or sing hymns openly or say a public prayer,” she explains. “It’s just that I’m afraid I might actually burst out crying in front of these people I don’t really know yet.”
Sister McConkie says: “I know people who come to church every Sunday so that they can be inspired and uplifted and who just simply walk away feeling judged and unloved—unneeded, like there is no place for them at church. We need to do this differently.”
Members who are nonjudgmental, Elsa says, help her the most. “They listen to my dilemmas and don’t intrude into my personal space. They act with sincerity and patience while I learn for myself what being a member is all about.” In spite of her anxiety, she accompanies the missionaries and looks out for new members and investigators. “I know how it feels to be new,” she explains, “and want to make sure no one turns away from the gifts of the gospel that saved me from despair.”
“People can bring different gifts and perspectives. The wide range of experience and backgrounds and challenges that people face will show us what really is essential in the gospel of Christ. And much of the rest that’s been, perhaps, acquired over time and is more cultural than doctrinal can slip away, and we can really learn to be disciples.”
—Elder D. Todd Christofferson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles
In spite of having previously been critical of the Church, Jim joined because he received “an unquestionable spiritual testimony from the Holy Ghost that testified of the truth of the gospel and its doctrine.” One of his greatest challenges, however, was adapting to LDS culture.
After baptism, he discovered that many generally accepted behaviors among members were cultural rather than doctrinal. “While this happens in any organized religion,” he explains, “I felt that if I didn’t conform in certain ways, I would be accused of not fully embracing the gospel. My struggles weren’t with the gospel or doctrine but with a level of conformity that felt only cultural.”
As Elder Christofferson explains, we need our new converts, investigators, and others to help us shed non-doctrinal practices that have accumulated over time and become true disciples.
Extolling the benefits of interacting with people of different backgrounds, Elder Oaks encourages Latter-day Saints to avoid focusing on differences and, instead, begin by asking, “Where are you coming from? What are your basic values? What do you want to accomplish?” This kind of openness and acceptance, in turn, helps those new to our circle feel included, lifted, loved, and ready to embrace salvation within the body of Christ.
Like Church leaders today, the Apostle Paul worried about divisions in the ancient Church of Christ. He urged members with strong opinions to avoid offending fellow Saints about practices that did not, in the end, really matter, explaining that while “knowledge puffeth up, …charity edifieth” (1 Corinthians 8:1). He called for “no divisions among you” and to focus on “Jesus Christ, and him crucified” rather than on the ways members differ from each other (1 Corinthians 1:10; 2:2).
Today, modern apostles and prophets urge us to find unity in diversity, encouraging us to make room for each member of the Church of Christ as an important part of our purpose to come to a “unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the Son of God …unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ” (Ephesians 4:13).

I wish to express my deepest heartfelt thanks to the New Era, the members of my ward, and my best friend, Shirley Beo, for showing me the way to Heavenly Father.
I live in Myrtle Creek, Oregon, and met Shirley in the seventh grade. Neither of us really fit in at school. She had just moved to Oregon from England, and I was a social outcast. My life up to then had been rough, but Shirley seemed to turn me around. It wasn’t until five years later that I asked Shirley to pick me up for church.
I must tell you how shocked I was to feel Heavenly Father’s Spirit so strong. The members of the Myrtle Creek Ward accepted me as one of their family, and I have never met a bishop as terrific as the bishop of our ward, David Antis, Sr. Two months later my parents, both of whom are nonmembers, allowed me to be baptized. My life was turned around from then on.
I am now assistant to the president in our priests quorum, and the oldest and one of the most active youth in our ward. I play Church basketball and volleyball and am in top form for school. Last quarter I pulled my first 4.00 report card.
I wish to thank all the people who have helped me, and also the New Era for all the encouraging articles.
Robert RussellMyrtle Creek, Oregon

From the first penny that I put in my mission savings jar, I knew I wanted to serve. I had saved money for 12 years when the announcement came that sisters could serve at age 19. Although I wasn’t sure if the time was right for me, the Lord answered my prayers, and I felt inspired to start my mission papers.
I wanted my mission call to be right for me and knew that being honest with my Church leaders, especially about my health, would be the only way to feel at peace. I have epilepsy, a condition that causes unpredictable seizures. Fortunately, my condition is completely controlled by medicine. Still, it was possible that my dependence on it could limit where I could be assigned to serve.
Imagine my surprise when I was called to serve in the Dominican Republic Santo Domingo East Mission! There was a problem though: I found out that my medication wasn’t available in the Dominican Republic. I was confused. Why would the Lord inspire Church leaders to send me somewhere that didn’t have my medication?
My family and I prayed together for an answer. I felt a strong conviction that the Lord really wanted me to serve in the Dominican Republic, so we went to work. My doctor wrote me an 18-month prescription, but our insurance would only pay for a year’s worth of medication, leaving us to pay for the last 6 months. As we moved forward with faith, we eventually found an affordable option.
When I was set apart, my stake president blessed me that my condition would not affect me during my mission—a promise that I can testify was fulfilled. Although I was stretched to my physical limits, I know that through the Atonement of Jesus Christ, I was able to overcome the challenges I faced before and during my mission.

“Remember that activity day is after school today,” Mom said at breakfast.
Clarissa sighed. “I know.”
“What’s wrong?” Mom asked. “I thought you loved activity day.”
“It’s all right,” Clarissa said.
“Remember how excited you were to go when you turned eight?” Mom asked. “And you like Sister Cobian.”
“She’s great,” Clarissa said. “It’s just hard because Ashley and I are the only two who go. I like Ashley, and she is always nice to me. But she is almost 12, and I just turned 9. I don’t really know what to say to her. It’s not that fun.”
Mom put her arm around Clarissa. “I’m sorry it’s hard sometimes. We have a small Primary without a lot of girls, but I’m sure you’ll have a good time this afternoon.”
After school Clarissa walked the one block to the church where they held activity day. Sister Cobian and Ashley greeted her happily. After the opening prayer Sister Cobian said, “I asked the Primary president about girls who are on the Primary rolls but don’t come to activity day or Primary. I have this list of the girls and their phone numbers. I thought that if we called them before each activity day, they might come join us.”
“That’s a great idea!” Clarissa exclaimed. “It would be fun to have more girls here.”
Sister Cobian smiled. “I’m glad you like the idea, because I want to ask you to call the girls before our next activity day.”
“Me?” Clarissa gulped. She wasn’t sure about that. Sister Cobian handed her the list. She knew all the girls from school, and some of them came to church occasionally. But it might be scary to call and invite them.
“Will you do it?” Sister Cobian asked.
Clarissa looked at the list again. Some of these girls were her age. Activity day would be a lot more fun if they came too. “Sure,” she said.
Before the next activity day, Clarissa called the girls on the list. She left messages or talked to all of them. It wasn’t hard at all.
The next day at school, Olivia, one of the girls Clarissa had called, asked her if they could walk to activity day together. Clarissa was thrilled! After school Clarissa and Olivia walked to the church together. When they entered the Primary room, Sister Cobian gave them a big smile.
Before the next activity day, Clarissa called the girls again. Olivia was excited to come again. Chelsea said she would come too. The next afternoon Clarissa felt so happy as she walked to the meetinghouse with Olivia and Chelsea.
That night Clarissa told her mother how fun activity day was with more girls. “I just wish Madison could come,” Clarissa said. “She’s my best friend.”
“Well, why can’t she?” Mom asked.
“Mom, she’s not on the list. She’s not a member of the Church.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Mom said. “You’ll be doing missionary work when you invite her. You’re already being a missionary by encouraging Olivia and Chelsea.”
Clarissa thought about that. When she called the activity-day girls again, she called Madison too. Madison asked her mom if she could go, and her mom said yes. Clarissa couldn’t believe how easy it was. She wondered why she hadn’t invited Madison months ago!
At activity day that week, Sister Cobian made an exciting announcement. At their next activity day, they were going to have a special guest teach them how to decorate cakes. Clarissa and Madison smiled at each other. That sounded fun! As they left that afternoon, Madison said, “Thanks for inviting me. I want to come next time to decorate cakes.”
The very next day, Clarissa started talking to all of her friends at school about the cake-decorating activity. Madison helped. Many of their friends said they wanted to come.
“There might be 15 girls at our next activity day,” Clarissa told her mother.
“Fifteen!” Mom exclaimed. “Where did you find that many girls?”
“I’ve been inviting all the girls in my class,” Clarissa said.
“That’s wonderful!” Mom said. “But you better let Sister Cobian know so she will be prepared for that many.”
Clarissa called Sister Cobian to tell her how many girls to expect. On activity day the Primary room was crowded with girls chattering and laughing as they decorated cakes. Sister Cobian winked at Clarissa and gave her a big smile.
Afterward Clarissa helped Sister Cobian clean up. Her friend Emily came to say good-bye. “Thanks,” she said shyly to Sister Cobian. “Is it OK if I invite my older sister and my two cousins next time?”
Sister Cobian smiled. “That would be great, Emily,” she said.
Clarissa could hardly wait for the next activity day!