Gospel Story Finder

Edison kicked the ground. All the other boys were talking and setting up tents. But he didn’t know anyone.
Edison’s family had stopped going to church a little while after they moved to Spain. But then the boys from the ward came over and invited him to come on the camping trip. Camping had sounded fun, but now Edison wasn’t sure he wanted to be here after all. He felt like he didn’t belong.
Two boys, Diego and Juan, walked up to Edison. “Do you want to share our tent?” Diego asked.
Edison let out a breath and smiled. “Sure.”
“Cool!” said Juan. “And then we can go swimming.”
The boys set up their tent and ran to the river. The water was cold, but now Edison was having so much fun he hardly noticed. After lunch, the boys and leaders went on a hike. They got back just as the sun started to set, so they helped set up a campfire.
“What’s your family like?” Juan asked.
Edison dropped a pile of twigs by the fire. “My parents are pretty cool. And my sister is my best friend. We moved here from Ecuador.”
Diego and Juan looked at each other with big smiles.
“We’re from Ecuador too!” Juan said.
Diego unzipped his jacket to show his T-shirt. It had the symbol for Ecuador’s soccer team on it!
“Wow!” Edison said. “So what do you miss most about Ecuador?”
Diego and Juan laughed. “The food!” they both shouted.
The boys kept talking about what they missed about Ecuador and what they liked about living in Spain. Edison liked how easy it was to talk to Diego and Juan.
Then one of the leaders, Brother Cisneros, stood up. “Hey, everyone! We want to end the night with a testimony meeting.”
One by one, boys and leaders stood up and shared their testimonies. Their words made Edison’s heart feel like it was wrapped in a warm blanket.
Diego stood up. “I know the Church is true. I know that God is my Father and that Jesus Christ is my Savior.”
The warm feeling grew stronger. I want to know that too, Edison thought.
When Edison got home from the trip, Diego’s words stayed in his mind. He wished he could go to church and learn about Jesus with Diego and Juan.
That night at dinner, Papá asked, “How was the camping trip?”
“It was great!” Edison said. “We swam and hiked and built a fire. I even made two friends who are from Ecuador too!”
“That’s great! We’ll have to invite them over,” Mamá said.
Edison paused. “Could we start going to church again?”
Mamá and Papá didn’t say anything for a few moments. Then Mamá cleared her throat. “If you want to go, that’s fine,” she said. “But Papá and I aren’t going to go.”
Edison slumped in his chair. He didn’t want to go to church alone. Maybe he should stay home with his family.
Then Edison remembered the warm feeling from the testimony meeting. Even if his family didn’t want to go to church, Edison wanted to go.
Besides, he wouldn’t be alone. Edison smiled as he ate his dinner. Then he picked up the phone. He knew some friends he could go to church with!
This story took place in Spain.

I have a testimony that the things the bishop asks us to do will help us in our lives. The bishop asked the Primary kids this year to memorize the articles of faith. I memorized all of them. Later I was on the bus with my friend, and the conversation popped up about our beliefs. I told her that I read the Book of Mormon, and I didn’t really know what to say after that. And then the eighth article of faith popped in my head, and I recited it.
Allison H., age 9, Illinois, USA

Then, in words of soberness, he told me this story. When he was quite a young man, the Prince of Wales Colliery was the pride of the valley. Almost every family in the village had someone who worked there. But one spring day an explosion occurred deep underground, and a fire broke out in the passages where the coal was mined. Rescue teams tried to reach the trapped men, but each time the tire drove them back. So, in a desperate attempt to save the mine, the owners ordered the canal that ran close-by to be turned into the mine.
One hundred and eighty-four men and boys were trapped in the bowels of the earth. Those who were not burned by the explosion were drowned by the water that came pouring in. Hundreds of the villagers gathered around the mine, waiting to see if any were rescued. But as the hours passed, hope turned to despair. The rescue team that went down returned with saddened faces.
“No one”, they said, “could possibly have lived through those awful conditions.”
Still the villagers waited, for down below in the earth were their loved ones, and they did not wish to return home without them.
It was when the sun had touched the hilltop and the first shadows had settled on the village that it happened. Someone cried out, and a pair of hands could be seen climbing the cables that raised and lowered the cage. Eager hands assisted the man from those awful cables. The flesh was hanging in shreds from his hands, his clothing almost burned from his body. Tenderly they laid him down, and the doctor ministered to him as best he could. The man was near to death, but the courage that caused him to climb from the darkness of the mine to the day above would help him to live again. The man was Jimmy Drew.
The question on everyone’s lips was, “How could a man live through explosion, fire, and water and then climb those hundreds of feet on a steel cable and still live?”
That question was never answered, for God in his mercy had closed the mind of Jimmy Drew so that he would never tell of his terrible ordeal.

We were moving in two weeks. I didn’t want to. We’d lived in the same brick house my whole life, and I liked it there. I had my own room upstairs with a window that looked out on the apple tree in the backyard. And I had my own friends.
But sometimes you don’t have a choice.
When Dad lost his job a year ago, he had a hard time finding another one. He started traveling a lot, looking for work and taking temporary jobs. We had to get used to his chair being empty at dinnertime. Our plates were never empty, at least, but sometimes the only food on the table was out of food storage and the garden.
One day I was at the table studying, when Dad suddenly walked into the kitchen, grinning. Mom was at the sink, fixing dinner. Dad took the squash out of her hand, set it on the counter, and grabbed her around the waist. “I think the next dance belongs to me,” he said. Then he started to whistle and dance with her.
Emily, Timothy, and Nathan were all upstairs. They came running down when they heard Dad’s happy voice. Melanie came in the back door, too, just then. She had been out delivering newspapers.
Mom was laughing. “What’s going on?” she asked. “Why are you so happy?”
“I finally have a permanent job—a really good one—again!”
Mom started to cry; then Dad started to cry. Suddenly we were all crying and laughing and hugging each other. It felt wonderful.
“The only thing is, we’ll have to move,” Dad finally said. He was still smiling, but I felt a weird sort of ache in my stomach.
“Move? Where?” I asked.
“Arkansas.”
Arkansas. I didn’t know anything about Arkansas. But suddenly Dad’s having a job didn’t sound like such a great thing after all. I knew how hard we had all been praying for him to get one, but I couldn’t see why Heavenly Father didn’t find him one right here.
I didn’t sleep well that night. The next day, I asked Mom, “If Heavenly Father is so powerful, why couldn’t Dad’s job be right here. Why do we have to give up our home?”
She didn’t answer right away, but kept folding towels. I watched her smooth a nice, fluffy green one and set it on the pile.
“Maybe it’s time for us to grow some more,” she said finally. “Maybe there are things we need to learn that we can’t learn here.”
“I can learn here just fine. I get good grades in school.”
“Ben, school is important. But this whole life is like school, and there are lots of lessons for you to learn outside the classroom.”
“I can learn outside the classroom here too.”
“It’s hard to move,” she admitted. “It’s hard for all of us. But, Ben, I have confidence in Heavenly Father and in our family. Your father and I think that Heavenly Father wants him to take this job. It’s always been hard for people to give up their homes, but sometimes Heavenly Father knows that it’s what we need.” She smiled, hugged me, and handed me the pile of towels. “Please put these away for me.”
After putting away the towels, I put on my roller blades and headed toward the park. Sometimes I like to talk to Heavenly Father while I’m rolling along. I know Mom and Dad do the same sort of thing, just not on roller blades. Dad says it’s good to pray whenever and wherever we need help, not just when we’re kneeling down. He says that prayer always helps when you’re working on a problem.
Well, this sure looked like a problem to me. There weren’t any other people around, so I said right out loud, “Heavenly Father, this is really hard for me. I don’t want Dad to be out of work, and I don’t want to move. Why does it have to be one or the other?”
At the park, I took the skating path, skating slowly along and listening for an answer to my prayer. No answer came, but it felt good to be on wheels, and the mountains ahead of me were beautiful. The sun was shining through the clouds. Just looking at them made me feel better somehow.
Did Arkansas have mountains?
Another question slipped into my mind. What if Mom and Dad were right and Heavenly Father wanted us to move? Who else had moved away from home? Were there any families in the scriptures who moved?
Lehi and his family had to leave Jerusalem, I remembered. And they weren’t the only ones. There were the Jaredites too. And in the Old Testament there was Jacob’s son Joseph. He didn’t go to Egypt because he wanted to, but he still went. And later on, Moses moved everybody out again. After four hundred years, Egypt must have seemed like home, even if the Israelites were slaves there.
I swooped down a dip in the skating path and up a rise on the other side. The more I thought, the more names there were in my head.
Joseph Smith was always leaving his home to escape the mobs. Even Jesus Christ had to leave home.
Missionaries leave home. But that wouldn’t happen to me for a long, long time. Ten years. I hadn’t even lived that long yet.
I stopped suddenly. I left Heavenly Father less than ten years ago to come to earth to live with my family. So I’d done it before. … And I could do it again!
A good feeling rushed through me. “Thanks, Heavenly Father,” I said.
It was time to go home. Mom and Dad had an encyclopedia in the living room, on the shelf under the television. I wanted to look at it. I was going to find out all about Arkansas.

My father and mother believed firmly in the principle of work, and they saw to it that their six boys had plenty to do.
Although I was the youngest in our family, I had my share of jobs around the house and yard. To make sure I wouldn’t run out of work and to help me develop a sense of responsibility, Father had some chicken coops and runs built in our back yard. He filled these with a flock of about fifty chickens, and my responsibility was to feed and water the chickens, keep the coops clean, and gather eggs.
In the summer I gathered lawn clippings and put them to dry on the roof of the chicken coop. When they were dry, I put them in bags. Then in the winter I emptied these clippings into pans, poured hot water over them, and fed them to the chickens.
By giving the chickens such good care, we had more than enough eggs to supply the needs of our family. Father told me I could have the extra eggs to sell and could use the money for my own needs.
I found the neighbors were glad to have good fresh eggs, and I soon established an egg route with regular customers. These customers became my good friends. This was the beginning of many happy associations that have lasted for years.
Although I was only a young boy when I started in the egg business, I felt pretty grown up having my own money to spend. I also earned some extra money by doing errands and odd jobs for people in the neighborhood, and Father paid me for helping on the ranch in the summer. So I began to save what seemed to me to be a lot of money.
My parents had taught me about tithing. They told me that tithing is giving to the Lord one penny out of every dime I earn, or one dime out of every dollar. They also taught me that tithing is a commandment of our Father in heaven, and paying tithing is a good way for us to show our love for Him and our appreciation for all the blessings He gives us.
At the end of the year I took my tithing in a big envelope filled with nickels, dimes, and small bills to the bishop for tithing settlement. I still have the tithing receipt (it was then called a Bishop’s Store House receipt) that was given to me when I was eight years old. It was for $7.50 and was dated December 31, 1908.
I am grateful that I had a father and mother who taught me as a young boy the joy of work and the importance of paying tithing. I am sure that many of the blessings I have enjoyed throughout my life have come to me because I have been obedient to the law of tithing.

Anciently, certain women sacrificed as they testified and lived the teachings of Jesus. Certain women in the early days of the Restoration did the same. Drusilla Hendricks and her family were among those who, as new converts, suffered during the persecution of the Saints in Clay County, Missouri. Her husband was permanently paralyzed during the Battle of Crooked River. She was left to care for him as well as provide for her family.

“At one particularly distressing time, when the family was out of food, she remembered that a voice told her, ‘Hold on, for the Lord will provide.’”

When her son was needed to volunteer for the Mormon Battalion, at first Drusilla resisted and wrestled in prayer with Heavenly Father until “it was as though a voice said to her, ‘Do you not want the highest glory?’ She answered naturally, ‘Yes,’ and the voice continued, ‘How do you think to gain it save by making the greatest sacrifices?’”8

One night after I went to bed, my baby brother was having trouble breathing. He had to go to the hospital. I got really nervous and decided to say a prayer. My younger sister and I prayed that Heavenly Father would help my brother breathe better, and that he would come home safely from the hospital. Our prayer was answered in the way we hoped. I know that Heavenly Father loves us.Sara Bailey, age 8Columbia, Maryland

Many years ago I read a book titled The Way to the Western Sea by David S. Lavender. It provides a fascinating account of the epic journey of Meriwether Lewis and William Clark as they led their famed expedition across the North American continent to discover an overland route to the Pacific Ocean.
Their trek was a nightmare of backbreaking toil, deep gorges which had to be crossed, and extensive travel by foot, carrying with them their supply-laden boats to find the next stream on which to make their way.
As I read of their experiences, I frequently mused, “If only there were modern bridges to span the gorges or the raging waters.” There came to my mind thoughts of magnificent bridges of our time which accomplish this task with ease: beautiful Golden Gate Bridge of San Francisco fame; sturdy Sydney, Australia, Harbour Bridge; and others in many lands.
In reality, we are all travelers—even explorers of mortality. We do not have the benefit of previous personal experience. We must pass over steep precipices and turbulent waters in our own journey here on earth.
Perhaps such a somber thought inspired the poet Will Allen Dromgoole’s classic poem titled “The Bridge Builder”:
An old man, going a lone highway,
Came at the evening, cold and gray,
To a chasm, vast and deep and wide,
Through which was flowing a sullen tide.
The old man crossed in the twilight dim;
The sullen stream had no fears for him;
But he turned when safe on the other side
And built a bridge to span the tide.
“Old man,” said a fellow pilgrim near,
“You are wasting strength with building here;
Your journey will end with the ending day;
You never again must pass this way;
You have crossed the chasm, deep and wide—
Why build you the bridge at the eventide?”
The builder lifted his old gray head:
“Good friend, in the path I have come,” he said,
“There followeth after me today
A youth whose feet must pass this way.
This chasm that has been naught to me
To that fair-haired youth may a pitfall be.
He, too, must cross in the twilight dim;
Good friend, I am building the bridge for him.”
The message of the poem has prompted my thinking and comforted my soul, for our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ was the supreme architect and builder of bridges for you, for me, for all humankind. He has built the bridges over which we must cross if we are to reach our heavenly home.
The Savior’s mission was foretold. Matthew recorded, “And she shall bring forth a son, and thou shalt call his name Jesus: for he shall save his people from their sins.”
There followed the miracle of His birth and the gathering of the shepherds who came with haste to that stable, to that mother, to that child. Even the Wise Men, journeying from the East, followed that star and bestowed their precious gifts upon the young child.
The scripture records that Jesus “grew, and waxed strong in spirit, filled with wisdom: and the grace of God was upon him” and that He “went about doing good.”
What personal bridges did He build and cross here in mortality, showing us the way to follow? He knew mortality would be filled with dangers and difficulties. He declared:
“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
“Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.
“For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
Jesus provided the bridge of obedience. He was an unfailing example of personal obedience as He kept the commandments of His Father.
When He was led of the Spirit into the wilderness, He was weak from fasting. Satan was at his seductive best in the offerings he proffered. His first was to satisfy the Savior’s physical needs, including His hunger. To this the Savior replied, “It is written, Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God.”
Next Satan offered power. Responded the Savior, “It is written again, Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God.”
Finally the Savior was offered wealth and earthly glory. His response: “Get thee hence, Satan: for it is written, Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and him only shalt thou serve.”
The Apostle Paul was inspired of the Lord to declare for our time, as well as for his: “There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it.”
Lest we equivocate, I mention something Ted Koppel, TV news journalist, said in a university commencement address: “What Moses brought down from Mt. Sinai were not the Ten Suggestions. They are commandments.”
A bit of humor is found in an account of a conversation between author Mark Twain and a friend. Said the wealthy friend to Twain, “Before I die, I plan to make a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. I will climb to the top of Mount Sinai and read the Ten Commandments aloud.”
Replied Twain, “Why don’t you stay home and keep them?”
The second bridge provided by the Master for us to cross is the bridge of service. We look to the Savior as our example of service. Although He came to earth as the Son of God, He humbly served those around Him. He came forth from heaven to live on earth as mortal man and to establish the kingdom of God. His glorious gospel reshaped the thinking of the world. He blessed the sick; He caused the lame to walk, the blind to see, the deaf to hear. He even raised the dead to life.
In Matthew 25, the Savior tells us this concerning the faithful who will be on His right hand at His triumphal return:
“Then shall the King say unto them … , Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world:
“For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in:
“Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me.
“Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hungred, and fed thee? or thirsty, and gave thee drink?
“When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in? or naked, and clothed thee?
“Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee?
“And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”
Elder Richard L. Evans (1906–71) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles once counseled, “We can’t do everything for everyone everywhere, but we can do something for someone somewhere.”
May I share with you an account of an opportunity of service which came to me unexpectedly and in an unusual manner. I received a telephone call from a granddaughter of an old friend. She asked, “Do you remember Francis Brems, who was your Sunday School teacher?” I told her that I did. She continued, “He is now 105 years of age. He lives in a small care center but meets with the entire family each Sunday, where he delivers a Sunday School lesson. Last Sunday Grandpa announced to us, ‘My dears, I am going to die this week. Will you please call Tommy Monson and tell him this. He’ll know what to do.’ ”
I visited Brother Brems the very next evening. I could not speak to him, for he was deaf. I could not write a message for him to read, for he was blind. What was I to do? I was told that his family communicated with him by taking the finger of his right hand and then tracing on the palm of his left hand the name of the person visiting and then any message. I followed the procedure and took his finger and spelled on the palm of his hand T-O-M-M-Y M-O-N-S-O-N. Brother Brems became excited and, taking my hands, placed them on his head. I knew his desire was to receive a priesthood blessing. The driver who had taken me to the care center joined me as we placed our hands on the head of Brother Brems and provided the desired blessing. Afterward tears streamed from his sightless eyes. He grasped our hands, and we read the movement of his lips. The message: “Thank you so much.”
Within that very week, just as Brother Brems had predicted, he passed away. I received the telephone call and then met with the family as funeral arrangements were made. How thankful I am that a response to render service was not delayed.
The bridge of service invites us to cross over it frequently.
Finally, the Lord provided us the bridge of prayer. He directed, “Pray always, and I will pour out my Spirit upon you, and great shall be your blessing.”
I share with you an account described in a mother’s letter to me relating to prayer. She wrote:
“Sometimes I wonder if I make a difference in my children’s lives. Especially as a single mother working two jobs to make ends meet, I sometimes come home to confusion, but I never give up hope.
“My children and I were watching a television broadcast of general conference, and you were speaking about prayer. My son made the statement, ‘Mother, you’ve already taught us that.’ I said, ‘What do you mean?’ And he replied, ‘Well, you’ve taught us to pray and showed us how, but the other night I came to your room to ask something and found you on your knees praying to Heavenly Father. If He’s important to you, He’ll be important to me.’ ”
The letter concluded, “I guess you never know what kind of influence you’ll be until a child observes you doing yourself what you have tried to teach him to do.”
No relating of a prayer touches me so deeply as the prayer offered by Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. I believe Luke describes it best:
“He … went … to the mount of Olives; and his disciples also followed him.
“And when he was at the place, he said unto them, Pray that ye enter not into temptation.
“And he was withdrawn from them about a stone’s cast, and kneeled down, and prayed,
“Saying, Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done.
“And there appeared an angel unto him from heaven, strengthening him.
“And being in an agony he prayed more earnestly: and his sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground.”
In due time came the trek to the cross. What suffering He endured as He made His burdensome way, carrying His own cross. Heard were the words He uttered upon the cross: “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.”
At length Jesus declared, “It is finished: and he bowed his head, and gave up the ghost.”
These events, coupled with His glorious Resurrection, completed the final bridge of our trilogy: the bridge of obedience, the bridge of service, the bridge of prayer.
Jesus, the Bridge Builder, spanned that vast chasm we call death. “For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive.” He did for us what we could not do for ourselves; hence, humankind can cross the bridges He built—into life eternal.
I close by paraphrasing the poem “The Bridge Builder”:
“You have crossed the chasm, deep and wide—
Why build you the bridge at the eventide?”
“There followeth after me today
A vast throng whose feet must pass this way.
This chasm that has been naught to me
To that great throng may be a pitfall be.
They too must cross in the twilight dim;
Good friend, I am building the bridge for them.”
I pray that we may have the wisdom and determination to cross the bridges the Savior built for each of us.

My dad was what I’d call an urban farmer. No, we didn’t raise crops in a metropolis. We built swimming pools.
The problem with the swimming pool business in Philadelphia is that it’s impossible to build a pool in a Pennsylvania winter. That meant Dad would do all the work he could between April and October, and then hope he had enough money to last us through the winter. Dad would pick up odd jobs to make ends meet.
I think I was about 14 or 15 when I helped Dad deliver salt. During breakfast one snowy day after early-morning seminary, Dad asked me if I would help him after school. Since basketball season hadn’t started yet, I said I would.
That day we put on our coats and boots and climbed into the truck that was normally used only in the summertime. We drove to the docks on the Delaware River in downtown Philadelphia where Dad pulled over and went into the office. Soon he came out and we drove through the gate and into the yard. Before long, we were loading several bags of road salt onto the back of the truck as snow began to fall.
Off we went, with Dad doing the driving and me doing the navigating. With the addresses and a street map, I tried to plot out the most efficient route for us to take.
We began near the historic area of the city. We drove by the Liberty Bell and into the business district. There wasn’t a place to park, so Dad just stopped the truck in the middle of the road and put on the flashers. We jumped out and carried three bags of salt into a small clock shop.
One of our next stops was a men’s clothing store. Dad made the owner laugh with one of his jokes as we carried the salt through the falling snow. After a few more deliveries, we went into a poorer neighborhood and delivered a single bag of salt to a small deli. The man there spoke with an Italian accent. I carried the salt as Dad talked with the man and had him sign the delivery papers.
The rest of the afternoon was spent in the low-income areas of Philadelphia. There were small grocery stores, laundromats, pawn shops, and hardware stores. And at each of the stops, Dad treated each person with dignity and respect—and often made them laugh.
Several weeks went by, and each afternoon delivery brought new insights, new observations, and new talks with Dad. We talked about all kinds of things—world events, Church doctrine, sports. Once Dad tried to talk about what kinds of girls I liked, but I wouldn’t let him. So he changed the subject.
There were lots of things I learned the winter I delivered salt. I learned that Dad was willing to “dig a few ditches,” as he would say, to provide for our family. I learned you can actually talk to your dad about things that really matter—things like testimony, friends, and relationships.
But looking back, one of the most important lessons I learned is that we truly are the “salt of the earth.” Dad made everyone smile despite the weather or their life’s status. It didn’t matter if we were delivering to a woman managing a laundromat in the slums, or a man who owned a tailor shop in uptown Philly. Dad cheered all of them with his jokes, his attitude, and the respect he showed them. At least for that winter, Dad was the salt of Philadelphia in more ways than one.

As the presiding elder, Fujiya Nara (behind the man in the dark suit) took responsibility for keeping in contact with members after the Japan Mission closed in 1924.
When the Japan Mission was closed in 1924, many members felt lost and abandoned. Leadership for the approximately 160 members in Japan fell to Fujiya Nara, the presiding elder in the country, whose employment with the railroad allowed him to visit scattered members. When he was unable to visit, Fujiya maintained contact by publishing a magazine titled Shuro (Palm Leaf) in which he shared gospel messages and encouraged the remaining Saints through the turbulent years that followed.
After Fujiya’s employment transferred him to Manchuria and his replacement as presiding elder died suddenly in 1937, contact with members in Japan was soon lost. “Even though we had no correspondence with Salt Lake City,” Fujiya said, “… we had conviction the Church would reopen [here].”3
During World War II, Fujiya returned to Tokyo, where he preached to his neighbors and organized weekly Sunday School meetings. After the war, Fujiya found a notice placed by Edward L. Clissold—a Latter-day Saint serving in the American military—inviting Church members in the country to contact him. Fujiya immediately visited Edward in his hotel room. When Edward attended the Latter-day Saint meetings in Tokyo, he was surprised to find nearly 100 people attending.
“Through it all,” Fujiya said later, “the greatest gift, and a constant gift, has been to know and embrace the true faith—that means to know Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ and the Holy Ghost.”4

When I first met Judy 30 years ago, I had no idea she had been a member of the Church for only 4 years. She had an important responsibility in the Church, and I had no reason to believe she had not been a member all her life.
Three years ago Laura gave a lovely opening prayer in our stake conference. After the prayer we were informed that Laura had been baptized just a few months earlier. “Wow!” I thought. “She has made remarkable progress.”
Only when I talked to Judy and Laura about their experiences as new converts did I learn that both had found their new Church membership to be more challenging than expected. It’s something they have in common with many—if not most—new converts.
Judy says, “You don’t just change where you go to church. You change your life. After my baptism I found myself asking, ‘Can I really do this?’”
Laura agrees: “I had no idea it would be that hard.”
It’s important to recognize that you are not alone in feeling challenged or even overwhelmed. Knowing that your experience is shared by many, you can be patient with yourself. You can reach out for help—to your bishop or branch president or to home teachers or other members—without feeling embarrassed or ashamed. And most important of all, you can have real hope that, yes, you can do this with the Lord’s help. He did not guide you into His Church only to abandon you. “The Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them” (1 Nephi 3:7).
If ignorance is not bliss, it’s not a sin either. You may feel overwhelmed because there are new words and terms to learn. (Tithing settlement?) There is a whole organization that is unique to the Church. (Stake high council?) Reading and navigating the scriptures may be a new experience. (Where is the book of Omni?) There are responsibilities, or callings, in the Church that you didn’t know existed, and all of a sudden you are asked to accept one of them. (Just what does a Young Women secretary do anyway?)
Don’t worry. The Lord does not condemn you for what you don’t know. But He’s the only one who can read your mind. Others can’t, so don’t be afraid to ask questions. As you reach out and begin to make friends in the Church, find a mentor—a member friend who can answer questions and explain things. If you have trouble finding a mentor, ask your bishop or branch president to help you find one. If you have a calling, ask to have your duties explained to you. Request a copy of any handbooks or other helps that may be available.
Then, as Judy counsels, “just build knowledge line upon line. Start with the basics.” And remember that you already have the foundation for the rest of your gospel learning: you know the Church is true.
Sometimes you will disappoint yourself. Baptism and confirmation made you clean, not perfect. It’s the same for the other members of the Church. We all make mistakes, and we all have to repent and renew our baptismal covenants by taking the sacrament. (For more about those covenants, see Elder Jeffrey R. Holland’s article on page 10.) And as we continue to repent and strive to do better, the Holy Ghost helps us become more pure. We begin to lose our desire to sin (see Mosiah 5:2). The power of the Atonement begins to change our very nature.
Laura says, “It has now become easier to be a member. Heavenly Father has given me a greater desire to do what is right. Things are coming more easily and naturally.”
As for those occasions when other Church members show their less-than-perfect side, Laura says she’s not bothered by the imperfections of others. “I work hard at not being judgmental,” she says. “I try to accept others for who they are. We’re all doing the best we can.”
The Savior has given this invitation to all:
“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
“Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.
“For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:28–30).
A yoke is a device that allows two animals to fairly and comfortably share a burden that one alone would find difficult or impossible. It is still used in many parts of the world today where animals plow fields or pull wagons.
Speaking of the Savior’s yoke, President Howard W. Hunter (1907–95), fourteenth President of the Church, said: “His yoke requires a great and earnest effort, but for those who truly are converted, the yoke is easy and the burden becomes light. …
“Obviously, the personal burdens of life vary from person to person, but every one of us has them. … To one and all, Christ said, in effect: As long as we all must bear some burden and shoulder some yoke, why not let it be mine? My promise to you is that my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”1
Conversion is a process, not just a single event. Our Heavenly Father is patient, kind, and gracious. He gives gifts of the Spirit not only “to those who love [Him] and keep all [His] commandments” but also to “him that seeketh so to do” (D&C 46:9; emphasis added). Live what you know, and more knowledge and strength will come. Let the Lord make of you what you could never make of yourself. He promises, “My grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them” (Ether 12:27).
Doubts are natural. They can spring up from within, or they can come from others. Regardless of the source, there are some tried-and-true ways to deal successfully with doubt.
1. Remember the spiritual experiences you’ve already had. For example, Oliver Cowdery was Joseph Smith’s scribe during much of the translation of the Book of Mormon. He had already received a witness of the truthfulness of the Prophet Joseph’s testimony regarding the golden plates. But apparently he wanted additional reassurance from the Lord. Speaking through the Prophet, the Lord counseled Oliver:
“If you desire a further witness, cast your mind upon [remember] the night that you cried unto me in your heart, that you might know concerning the truth of these things.
“Did I not speak peace to your mind concerning the matter? What greater witness can you have than from God?” (D&C 6:22–23).
The Lord expects us to remember the witness we have already received from the Spirit.
2. Be patient. When you come across things that you don’t understand, be patient. Hold fast to what you already know (in other words, remember). As Laura says, “I cling to what I already know and don’t let questions bother me. I keep asking in prayer, knowing the Lord will answer when I’m ready for it.”
3. Feed your faith; starve your doubts. As you continue to pray, search the scriptures, and keep the commandments, you will receive additional strength to your testimony. Alma compares this process to nurturing a seed as it sprouts and grows into a tree that provides sweet, precious fruit (see Alma 32:28–43). Nurturing doubts produces the opposite effect, and testimony withers.

Some years ago a fire erupted in the middle of the night and completely destroyed a family’s home. A neighbor came by to console a seven-year-old, not knowing that he was about to be taught a great principle. “Johnny, it’s sure too bad your home burned down.” Johnny thought a moment and then said, “Oh, that’s where you’re mistaken, Mr. Brown. That was not our home; that was just our house. We still have our home, we just don’t have any place to put it right now.”

“My Mother opened a little country store to help keep our family out of debt. I worked with her in the store quite a bit. She taught me about respecting and serving people. Once, when I was fourteen, my mom and dad went to Salt Lake City for a conference and left me to take care of the store. The Hutterites in our area wouldn’t go to the bank to cash their huge grain checks, so Mom was an insured cashier, and we would sometimes have thousands of dollars in the store safe. I knew the combination to the safe, and I knew that my parents trusted me, so I opened and closed the store on time and took care of the customers.”

Sister Kapp believes that “the way to be happy and feel good about yourself and to please Heavenly Father is to learn to be obedient. Even if we don’t understand why we should or should not do certain things, if we will just trust in our parents and in the wisdom of our Father in Heaven, one day we will understand. My hope is that every child will develop the self-discipline to do what he knows is right. When we’re obedient, we’re happy; when we’re disobedient, we’re not happy. It’s just that simple. Let us, then, choose to be happy.”

The Holy Ghost also lets us know what to do, and when He does, it is important to be obedient—even when it is hard. I was once visiting Washington, D.C., on business, and I had planned to go to the temple that evening. By the end of the day, however, I was so tired and frustrated that I decided, “No, I don’t think I’ll go to the temple tonight.” I began to walk to my hotel.
When I reached the hotel, the Spirit came very strongly, whispering that I should go to the temple, anyway. I decided to obey. As I stepped off the curb to cross the street, I heard someone say, “Attention!” (“Look out!”). I was pulled back onto the curb just as a car went whizzing by where I had been standing. I looked around. No one was there.
I safely crossed the street, got in my car, and started driving. The traffic was terrible, and I kept thinking, Maybe I’ll go back. But I didn’t.
Finally I reached the temple. I was given the name of the person whose temple work I would perform, and immediately I felt something special about that person. I noticed that it was a man who had been born and lived in France. I remembered the French voice that I had heard earlier, and through the entire temple session I felt as if he was right next to me. I realized that this man had been waiting for me to do his temple work on that day. I was supposed to go to the temple, and the problems at work had been designed by the adversary to keep me from doing the most important work.

Elder Joseph Cottam, of the Spain Madrid Mission, commented, “I’ve always been fully into music, ever since listening to my iPod Touch and my headphones when I was seven years old. At that age, I started playing the piano a little bit and the guitar, but I started playing the drums when I was 11 years old and that’s when I started rocking. My brother, Dan, and I started to rock the roof off our living room when we started playing the drums and guitar together. We then gathered the band together and played through all our teenage years pretty much every week until we were headlining shows, playing at festivals, winning competitions, and recording music videos. Then the time came when I had to start considering a mission; it was honestly something I had tried to avoid thinking about up to that point. I had a mindset that if we made the band big and rocked the world, we would be the best missionaries in the world. Obviously, God has different ideas to us. After a lot of prayer and thought, I and my brother decided to start with our mission papers. The reason being that I figured out that God knows what is best for us. He has shown us the path to follow, and we just must follow it without trying to compromise or trying to make our own paths. I also had a trust that God would make sure that everything went okay. He knows what means a lot to us in this life and he will cater for our desires if we always put him first. So that’s what I decided to do. Leaving everything behind we worked for was a blow for a while; it was our dream; it was everything we wanted to do but then the quarantine came, and everything stopped. The world was on pause and then I said to myself, “Wow. God does know best; He knew that if we accepted that record deal and continued, we would have been in a massive pickle.” That was the time when I knew for a fact God was guiding us in this.”

Jordan hadn’t seen his sister Kirsi for over a year—it felt like forever! Soon she’d be coming home from her mission to have surgery. Jordan was sad that she was sick, but he was happy that they’d be together soon.
When he came home from school the next day, Kirsi was sitting on the couch. Jordan ran and hugged her.
“Hi, Jordan! I missed you!” Kirsi said.
Jordan smiled. “I missed you too! I’m sorry that you’re sick.”
“Thanks, buddy,” Kirsi said. She was holding the Book of Mormon in her lap.
“Can I read with you?” he asked.
“Why don’t you go get your Book of Mormon, and we can start at the beginning together.”
Jordan ran to his room and grabbed his copy. “Got it!” he yelled as he ran back. He scooted in next to Kirsi.
They opened to the title page. “The Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ,” Jordan read. They took turns reading.
“On my mission I studied the scriptures with my companion every day,” Kirsi said. “Would you be my study buddy until it’s time for me to go back to my mission?”
“Yeah!” he said.
A few days later, Kirsi had her surgery. She came home from the hospital to rest and heal for a few weeks. She and Jordan studied the Book of Mormon together every day.
Before she went back to her mission, Kirsi said, “Jordan, I want to challenge you to finish the Book of Mormon before you are baptized.”
Jordan thought about that. His eighth birthday was only a few months away. He would have a lot of reading to do. But he wanted to do it. “Yes,” Jordan said.
“As you read, will you pray and ask if it’s true?” Kirsi asked. “Moroni promised that if we do that, the Holy Ghost will tell us that it’s true.”
“OK,” Jordan said.
By the time Kirsi went back to her mission, they’d reached 2 Nephi together.
Jordan really missed Kirsi. He especially missed being her study buddy. But then he got a great idea!
At school the next day, he walked over to his best friend Jake’s desk.
“I’m going to read the whole Book of Mormon before I get baptized,” Jordan said. “Since we’re getting baptized on the same day, do you want to do it too?”
“Yeah,” Jake said. “I’ve never read the whole Book of Mormon before.”
Every day at school, they asked each other the same question.
“How far along are you?”
“The end of Jacob. How far along are you?”
Soon they didn’t even have to ask the question anymore! They gave each other a look, and they knew the question.
“I think we’ll finish just in time for our baptisms,” Jordan said.
Finally the day of their baptisms came.
“I finished last night,” Jordan whispered.
“Me too!” Jake said. “And I prayed to know if it was true, and I felt really warm and happy.”
Jordan smiled. “Same. I felt really happy when I prayed.” He was so thankful for Kirsi’s challenge. Now he was building his very own testimony.

As I approached my 18th birthday and prepared to enter military service in World War II, I was recommended to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood. Mine was the task to telephone President Paul C. Child, my stake president, for an interview. He was one who loved and understood the holy scriptures, and it was his intent that all others should similarly love and understand them. As I knew from others of his rather detailed and searching interviews, our telephone conversation went something like this:
“Hello, President Child. This is Brother Monson. I have been asked by the bishop to visit with you relative to being ordained an elder.”
“Fine, Brother Monson. When can you see me?”
Knowing that his sacrament meeting time was 4:00 and desiring minimum exposure of my scriptural knowledge to his review, I suggested, “How would 3:00 be?”
His response: “Oh, Brother Monson, that would not provide us sufficient time to peruse the scriptures. Could you please come at 2:00 and bring with you your personally marked set of scriptures?”
Sunday finally arrived, and I visited President Child’s home. I was greeted warmly, and then the interview began. He said, “Brother Monson, you hold the Aaronic Priesthood.” Of course, I knew that. He continued, “Have you ever had an angel minister to you?”
My reply, “I’m not sure.”
“Do you know,” said he, “that you are entitled to such?”
Came my response: “No.”
Then he instructed, “Brother Monson, repeat from memory the 13th section of the Doctrine and Covenants.”
I began, “Upon you my fellow servants, in the name of Messiah I confer the Priesthood of Aaron, which holds the keys of the ministering of angels …”
“Stop,” President Child directed. Then in a calm, kindly tone, he counseled, “Brother Monson, never forget that as a holder of the Aaronic Priesthood you are entitled to the ministering of angels. Now continue the passage.”
I recited from memory the remainder of the section. President Child said, “Splendid.” He then discussed with me several other sections of the Doctrine and Covenants pertaining to the priesthood. It was a long interview, but I have never forgotten it. At the conclusion, President Child put his arm around my shoulder and said, “You are now ready to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood. Remember that the Lord blesses the person who serves Him.”

Four months after his mission, Kevin Jensen had earned enough money to barely get him through one semester at State College, provided that he room in the basement of his 63-year-old aunt’s home and that he work part-time in the morning as a custodian at the college. There was no money for non-essential items, and with his younger brother now ready to go on his mission, there was no hope for financial assistance from his parents.
On a cold January morning, he left his family, got on a bus, and shivered the 300 miles to the college town. His aunt, who didn’t have a car, had talked a neighbor lady into driving her to the depot to pick him up.
The next day was Sunday. Kevin walked his aunt to church and found himself being introduced to other retired and widowed friends of his aunt, while the Young Adults seemed to be always on the other side of the chapel.
The chorister for Sunday School was a girl his age with a smile that lit up the room, at least for Kevin. Although a common complaint of choristers is that people never look up from the hymnbooks, on that day Kevin didn’t look at the book at all but happily kept his attention on the chorister. Referring to the Sunday School bulletin, he found that her name was Jenny Wells.
On Monday, Kevin registered for classes. Afterwards he went to the college bookstore to buy books. One look at the prices and he decided to check them out of the library.
While in the bookstore, he saw Jenny buying some books. He waited until she got in the long checkout line and then stepped in behind her.
He was still rehearsing in his mind how to start a conversation when she dropped one of her books. He bent over to pick it up for her. Unfortunately she bent over at the same time and they bumped foreheads.
“Sorry,” he apologized. “You stay there and I’ll get it.” He bent over and picked it up for her.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you.”
“This sounds corny, but I think we’re going to be good friends.”
“Are we?” she smiled. “Why?”
“Because we’re both LDS, and we’re both going to college here.”
“You’re LDS? Have you been to church before?”
“Yesterday. I didn’t get to the Young Adult class because the bishop wanted to talk to me. I just got back from my mission.”
“Oh,” she smiled, “that is interesting.”
He walked her home to the dorm. Their breath made little puffs of clouds as they walked.
“Do you like to walk?” he asked.
“Yes, why?”
“In a minute I’m going to ask you out. If you say yes, you should understand that I don’t have a car, so we’ll be walking wherever we go.”
“I definitely like to walk.”
“Good. There’s one other thing. Money is a little tight now, but I’ve budgeted a dollar a week for dating. This means I can either go out once a month and spend four dollars, or go out once a week and spend one dollar. So you need to decide if you want the four-dollar date or the one-dollar date.”
They stopped on a small bridge to look at the icy patterns made by a small stream that meandered through the campus. He turned to look at her, and for a second their eyes met, and he felt they both were communicating much more with their eyes than either of them would dare vocally.
“You’re nice to look at,” he said softly.
“Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you,” she said.
A little embarrassed, they continued walking again.
“One other thing,” he continued. “I can’t buy you a hamburger after our date, so eat a big supper before we go out.”
“Do you want me to eat my vegetables, too?” she teased.
“Whatever you’ve been eating in the past will be fine. It’s done wonders.”
“Are you ever going to actually ask me out?” she laughed.
“Okay, will you go out with me?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want the four-dollar date or the one-dollar date?”
“The one-dollar date.”
“For the one-dollar date we can go to the art exhibit on campus, or we can go to a seminar on aging, or we can watch the swim team practice, or we can go to the library and read old issues of Life magazine. If you want more action, we can go to the last hour of a dance at the student union building.”
“The last hour?”
“After they quit taking tickets. It’s up to you. The world is at your feet, all for a dollar.”
“I’ll take the art exhibit and the dance.”
“An excellent choice.”
Although they were joking, he found himself more enchanted by her each moment. He thought about just stopping and telling her that he was falling in love, but he was afraid to do that. Besides, the joking was fun.
“Afterwards we can stay on campus and buy a cup of hot chocolate for a quarter a cup, or we can pick up an entire box of hot chocolate mix for 89 cents and go back and mix up two cups in the lobby of your dorm. Your choice?”
“Have you ever worked for Burger King?”
“No, why?”
“I keep expecting you to break into singing, ‘Have it Your Way.’”
It was snowing on Friday night as he walked to her dorm. When she came out of her apartment, he was again taken back by her beauty.
“I’m ready,” she said breezily. “I ate a good supper, I ate all my carrots like a good girl, and I’ve got warm clothes.” She stopped as she saw he wasn’t smiling. “Is anything wrong?”
“You’re such a classy lady. You deserve better than this.”
“Feeling sorry for yourself because you’re not rich?”
“If I just had a car and a little more money.”
“I like you fine the way you are.”
As he helped her on with her coat, she noticed the clipboard he had brought with him.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a clipboard.”
“I know that!” she laughed. “But why did you bring it?”
Suddenly the fun was back with them again. “You don’t know about clipboards?” he asked.
“What’s there to know?”
“You’ll see,” he grinned.
They walked to the art show on campus. It was the first night of the exhibit. Hanging up their coats in the lobby, they entered the exhibit hall and stood in front of the first painting.
“I like the overall balance in the picture, don’t you?” Kevin said, with an official ring to his voice.
“Yes.”
Kevin made a point of writing something on his clipboard. Up and down the exhibit, people respectfully observed them, believing they were the judges for the exhibit.
Kevin stepped back, his hand touching his chin. “Notice how the brush strokes create a definite lifting effect.”
Jenny was blushing a crimson red. A few people came closer to hear what Kevin was saying.
They walked to the next painting, called “Bird in Flight.” It looked as if someone had put paint on tricycle wheels and ridden over the canvas. There was nothing to indicate a bird, or flight, and the entire canvas was one blotch of yellow, red, and blue.
Kevin assumed the art judge pose, hand stroking his chin, and said finally. “Oh, yes. I see the bird, don’t you?”
By this time there were six people directly in back of them, straining to see a bird in the blotches.
Kevin stepped to the canvas and began to randomly assign separate sections of the canvas to parts of the bird, saying with great authority, “This, of course, is the beak, and this is the left wing, and this is a tree, and this is a lake, and this is the right wing.”
None of it, of course, made any sense, but people began to whisper, “Oh, yes, I see.”
Jenny’s face was bright red, and she fought to avoid breaking down with laughter. With some difficulty, she whispered, “May I have a word with you privately?”
They walked quickly out of the exhibit area and up one flight of stairs. There they broke down with peals of laughter.
Finally she gasped, “They think we’re art judges.”
“Why should they think that? I don’t know anything about art.”
“It’s your clipboard, isn’t it?”
“Yes, the magic of a clipboard.”
“That was so funny.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“But is it the right thing to do?”
“I don’t know. We never said we were art judges.”
“No, that’s true.”
“And if somebody came up and asked us if we were, we’d tell them no.”
“Still,” she said, “we’re LDS, and we need to set a good example. Maybe we should go back there without the clipboard.”
“Whatever you say.”
They left the clipboard with their coats and returned. As they passed “Bird in Flight,” someone who had watched Kevin was now pointing out enthusiastically to others the various parts of the bird.
At 11:00 they walked to the dance. As Kevin had predicted, the people taking money had long ago shut down. They danced until midnight, then walked to a small store that stayed open all night, bought some hot chocolate mix, and returned to her dorm.
At 1:00 he got up to leave.
“Jenny, thanks. You’ve been a good sport.”
“I’ve enjoyed it.”
“The only expense was for the box of hot chocolate mix.”
“Oh, I’ll get it for you,” she said. “You can take it home.”
“How about if I left it here and we used it on another date.”
“That’d be fine.”
“Would you like the three-dollar-eleven-cent date? That’s how much is left for the month.”
“A certain young man,” Jenny began, sounding like a teacher, “can spend four dollars a month on dating. He can go out twice a month and spend two dollars a date, or four times a month at one dollar. How many times can he go out with the same girl at fifty cents a date?”
“Eight,” Kevin answered.
“At a quarter a date?”
“Sixteen.”
Jenny stopped and smiled. “I’ve never enjoyed mathematics so much.”
Kevin left the dorm and started to walk home, still in a trance. He went over in his mind the way she was, and the excitement and fun he felt just being with her, and the way they had looked at each other a few times during the evening.
“Hey, Kevin, is that you?”
Kevin looked over to the car that had pulled over to the curb. It was Harly Mitchell, a former missionary companion.
“Want a ride, elder?”
Kevin got in the car. “Harly, I didn’t know you were here!”
“One more year.”
“Do you still go to church? I was there Sunday and didn’t see you.”
“We were visiting my in-laws. Showing off our baby.”
Harly enthusiastically told Kevin about his wife and baby and what a financial struggle it was to stay in school. He was just then returning from a night job at a gas station.
“And what about you?” Harly asked. “Why are you up so late, elder?”
Kevin told him about Jenny.
“Do I hear wedding bells ringing?” Harly teased.
“No, we just like each other. Besides, I’m not going to get married until I’m out of school.”
“Famous last words.”
“I can’t afford to be married.”
“Who can? Say, why don’t you bring Jenny over to our place for dinner next week? It’d give us a chance to talk some more.”
Kevin accepted the invitation, but because of previous commitments to home teach on Harly’s night off from the gas station, he had to schedule it for two weeks later.
On Wednesday of the next week, Kevin phoned and asked Jenny to go with him to a movie.
“Can you afford it?” she asked.
“Don’t worry. I’m a big spender.”
On Friday, the auditorium in the Agriculture Building was still only half filled as Kevin and Jenny sat down.
“Our first film tonight,” a man in a western suit shyly announced, “will be ‘Your Modern Poultry Industry.’” Kevin pulled out a large bag of homemade popcorn and shared it with Jenny.
“I’ll never look at a chicken in the same way,” Jenny joked as they left the auditorium after the movie.
Later they went to a dance for the last hour. Once after a song was over, while they still faced each other, he reached over and took hold of both her hands. Their eyes met and he felt himself wondering how he could stand to ever be apart from her again. He felt a sensation as he looked into her eyes of being allowed into a place in her heart she’d never let anyone else enter.
Fighting his feelings, he broke the spell by turning away and making a joke about the band.
“Are we going to talk about it?” Jenny asked quietly.
“About what?” Kevin asked nonchalantly.
“About what’s happening to us?”
“What’s happening to us? We’re just learning about chickens.”
She started to cry.
They stood on the edge of the dance floor, watching others dance. And then the dance was over, and they were alone except for those in the band carrying away their instruments.
“Why won’t you talk about it?” she finally asked.
“I’ve got three more years of school, Jenny. You know that, don’t you?”
She nodded her head.
On Saturday he took her to visit her aunt. They helped make bread. When it was finished, they sliced a loaf and had the warm bread with butter and honey and a glass of milk.
Sunday after sacrament meeting they went to a Young Adult fireside.
“I talked to my parents on the phone today. They’d like to meet you.”
“Oh.” He felt himself tense up.
“They like to meet all my friends,” she quickly added.
“They’ll be in town Wednesday, and they’ve invited us out to dinner.”
“What does your father do for a living?” Kevin asked.
“He works in a bank.”
“Teller?”
“Vice-president.”
They ate with her parents, who were not members of the Church, at the most expensive restaurant in town. At the end of the meal, they sat and talked.
“This isn’t too bad a place, is it?” Jenny’s mother said. “I think it was all rather decent food, don’t you?”
“Actually, Jenny and I have been here before.”
“Oh, what did you have?”
“Nothing,” Kevin answered. “See that sign on the wall that says, ‘Ask to visit our kitchen’? Well, that’s what we did.”
“With a clipboard,” Jenny said with a smile.
“But surely you must have had something.”
“Kevin’s on a very tight budget,” Jenny added quickly.
“Oh.”
Kevin was angry at the way he felt. On one hand, he wanted to impress her parents. But he resented the feeling that he was being looked over as a possible future son-in-law. Then, too, he still felt it was ridiculous to even consider the possibility of marriage until he was out of school, and so there was no reason why he should try to impress them at all. Let them see just how poor he was.
“Yes,” he said, “do you suppose I could get a little bag to put the extra food in. That is, unless you want it?”
Aware that he was probably losing points with Jenny’s parents, but angry about their obvious wealth, Kevin dropped every spare morsel of food on the table into the bag the waitress had brought him. Once he looked up from his efforts to clear the table of food to see that Jenny was hurt by what he was doing—trying to discourage her parents from liking him.
A few minutes later, Jenny and her mother left the table to visit a store in the building.
Jenny’s father ordered a second cup of coffee. “How do you think I got to be a banker?” he asked Kevin.
“I don’t know.”
“Hard work. I had to struggle through college the same as you. Don’t ever be ashamed because things are tight.”
Kevin found himself looking at Jenny’s father with new admiration.
“It’ll sharpen your goals and make you ten times more effective than if things had been easy.”
“I appreciate you telling me that,” Kevin said.
“Second, I don’t think you’re in any position to marry, do you?”
“No sir, I don’t.”
“Of course, Jenny hasn’t mentioned it, but after spending all these years studying people who come in for a loan, one gets a little skill in observation, and I’d say you and she were in love.”
“Yes.”
“Marriage now isn’t something I’d recommend. Maybe in a couple of years.”
“I feel the same way,” Kevin replied.
“Good. Don’t make the same mistake we made. We were both headstrong and in love and got married when I was still in college. Can you picture me selling cookware on weekends and mopping floors in the morning? Or my wife working as a seamstress in a clothing store? She’d hate to admit it now, I think. Yes sir, don’t make the same mistake.”
“No, sir.”
“Still,” he said, his eyes wistful, “in some ways those were our happiest years.”
A few days later, Kevin and Jenny went to have supper with Kevin’s former missionary companion and his wife and baby. Harly and Janet Mitchell lived in the basement apartment of a home. The apartment had been hastily built a few years before, when the college appealed to local citizens to help meet the housing needs of a growing student enrollment. The furnace room was stuck in the middle of the apartment, and the ceiling was filled with air ducts carrying heat upstairs. A shower spout stood outside the bathroom in the kitchen, with only a plastic curtain and a drain. Harly explained that they also mopped the floor after every shower.
They had a casserole of macaroni and cream of mushroom soup, a plate of carrots, a bowl of peas, and a jello salad. But the hit of the evening was their six-month-old baby who stole the show.
“Oh, she’s precious,” Jenny said, holding the baby in her arms. “It’s such a nice outfit for her, too.”
“Thanks to grandparents and friends,” Janet said. “Because of them, she’s taken care of for clothes.”
A few minutes later, Harly asked the inevitable question. “What about you, Kevin? About time you got married, too.”
“After I finish college,” Kevin said firmly, his jaws set tightly.
Kevin and Jenny walked home afterwards at a quick pace.
“They have a beautiful baby, don’t they?” she said.
“Every shred of clothes it has came from relatives,” Kevin snapped.
“So?”
“So, I’m never going to be in a situation where my children have to depend on other people for clothes.”
“Funny, the baby doesn’t seem to mind,” Jenny observed quietly.
“They are in no position financially to have a baby!” Kevin said, stopping to confront her.
“The General Authorities counsel that married couples shouldn’t postpone having children, not even for schooling.”
“Then they shouldn’t have married until he was through school.”
“They love each other. Doesn’t that count for anything? I’m sure they didn’t want to wait for two years.”
“What if the baby gets sick? What then?” Kevin asked harshly.
“Then Harly might have to quit school and get a job.”
“And just throw away his schooling?”
“You’re not really that concerned about the baby, are you?” she shot out.
“No, and this conversation’s not really about them either, is it?”
She looked at him for a long time and then said, “No, I guess not.”
“Jenny, I’m going to finish school in three years. Nothing’s going to stand in my way.”
“I see.”
He didn’t kiss her when he said good-bye at the dorm.
He didn’t call her for three days after that.
Finally, unable to stand being apart, he phoned her and asked her to go with him to a Young Adult party that Friday night.
Everything went fine Friday until it came time for the entertainment. The girl in charge gathered everyone close to her in the cultural hall and announced a game. She asked the young people to take off their shoes and put them in a pile.
Kevin got up and quietly walked into the hall.
A minute later, Jenny joined him in the hall.
“Is anything wrong?” she asked.
“I have holes in my socks,” he said quietly.
“Oh.”
“I can’t even afford a pair of socks.”
Jenny touched his hand.
“All I’ve got for shirts are white shirts from my mission, but they’re falling apart. This shirt has a big hole in the sleeve where my elbow has worn through, so with this shirt I always have to wear a sweater, and never take it off.” He pulled the sleeve of the sweater to show her the ragged shape the shirt was in. “I’ve got slacks where the back is getting so thin that I have to wear a sport coat to hide the seat of the slacks.”
“I love you, Kevin, not your socks.”
“But don’t you see, things aren’t going to get any better for three more years.”
“It’ll be okay.”
“Look, Jenny, I know I’ve avoided talking about us. I’d ask you to marry me, but how can I? I couldn’t even afford the license.”
She snuggled against him. “I’ll chip in a couple of dollars,” she whispered. “It’s for a good cause.”
“Your father doesn’t want you marrying a guy who can’t provide for you.”
“It’d only be for a little while. I could quit school and work.”
“You should finish your education.”
Jenny stayed close to him, and he felt a tear fall from her cheek on to his hand.
“There are too many shoulds in all this,” she said.
“It’s going to torment us all the time now,” he said, stroking her hair. “I can’t stand being away from you, and now I can’t stand being with you. If we could just put things on hold for two years and then start it up again.”
“How do we do that?” she asked.
As gently as he could, he said, “Maybe we shouldn’t see each other for a while.”
“Is that what you want?”
“No, but let’s try it for a while.”
He walked her to the dorm, said good-bye, and left.
The days that followed were terrible. He’d sit down to study and find himself looking at her picture 20 minutes later. Whenever he saw a phone, it haunted him, and he had to rush by so he wouldn’t break down and phone her. He’d sit down to outline a chapter and find himself going over the figures estimating how much money he’d need to be able to marry her. The answer was always the same.
In church they could hardly stand to be in the same room. He offered his services to the bishop, hoping to be called to teach a Sunday School class so he wouldn’t have to be in the Young Adult class with her.
Once he rounded a corner in church and found himself facing her.
“Hi, Jenny,” he said brightly. “How are you?”
“Just fine,” she countered quickly.
“Fine,” he said breezily, but then his depression seeped out across his face. Instead of moving on, they stood there silently in the hall, staring at each other, both of them in agony.
“It’s tough, isn’t it?” he asked. “Unbelievable,” she replied. Then he walked away.
He fasted and prayed. He called his father collect and asked for advice. Strangely enough, the answer came in a personal priesthood interview with his elders quorum president.
“Oh, Kevin, before you go, would it be all right if we gave you another family to home teach? I just found out that Bill Morrill is graduating in May, so we need someone to pick up a couple of his families.”
“Sure.”
“Thanks. Boy, he’s really had a good job while he’s been in school. It’s been perfect for him and his wife.”
“What job is that?”
“Managing a motel.” Kevin pressed for more details, phoned up Bill Morrill at the motel, visited with him the next day, and applied for the job. The owner hired him, starting in May.
Kevin phoned Jenny from a pay phone next to the motel, but her roommate said she’d gone away for the weekend and wouldn’t be back until Sunday night.
He nearly went crazy waiting for Sunday to end. Between church meetings he spent his time writing a long list of ways to save money. Every possible idea was there. They’d drink straight powdered milk. They could get a free Christmas tree by asking some students in the dorm if they could have their tree when they went home for the holidays.
They’d save money for a room because a small apartment went with the job at the motel. At night all he had to do was man the desk and switchboard. He could get a lot of studying done at the same time. They’d never be able to afford a car, but they could get a small wagon to carry home the groceries from the store. They’d ask his aunt if they could help her with her garden during the summer in exchange for some vegetables.
Sunday evening after sacrament meeting he phoned her again.
“Hello,” she said.
“We can get married!” he shouted.
There was a long pause, and then she said quietly, “I bet this is Kevin. Right?”
“How many other guys have you got about to propose?”
She laughed, and he said he’d be right over.
When she opened the door, he handed her his ten-page list.
“It’s all there. We can do it.”
She sat down and went over the list with him.
“It’s very interesting,” she said.
“That’s all you can say?”
“What should I say?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Yes to what?”
“Yes to my question.”
“I didn’t hear a question.”
“WILL YOU MARRY ME?” he shouted, causing couples in the dorm to stop their conversation and stare at them.
“Yes,” she laughed.
He kissed her.
A few minutes later they left the dorm to walk to their bishop’s home.
“We’ll be poor,” he warned.
“No we won’t,” she said. “Not us. We won’t be poor. We just won’t have any money.”
They walked quietly, holding hands, happy with the world.
“Wait a minute!” he said. “You haven’t told me where you’ve been this weekend.”
“I went home. My mother taught me how to mend socks.”

When I was a teenager, my family moved to New Jersey. I stayed behind with my grandparents for the summer and helped them farm. One morning I was slow getting out of bed. When my grandfather came to get me, he found me kneeling by my bed, in the middle of my morning prayer. He quietly went out and waited for me. As soon as I finished, he came in and gave me a big hug and said how pleased he was to see me praying. He told me how much it meant to him to pray and how he always began the day by praying. There was no reprimand for being late. I’ve always felt that praying was more special because of the way he reacted.

The stunningly beautiful island of Bermuda is only about 21 square miles (54 km) in total area. It’s also one of the most isolated inhabited islands you can find—the nearest land mass is over 600 miles (966 km) away. I was one of six full-time missionaries in Bermuda, four elders and one senior missionary couple, serving in the single branch on the island when we decided to try something a bit unusual.
We were going to put on a play! And not just any play.
I can’t remember exactly how the idea first cameup to produce a play about Mormon pioneers for the general community, but once the idea was out there in the open, we all felt a spiritual confirmation that it was worth pursuing.
The other missionaries and I had never written a play before. But why let that stop us? With the help of the branch, we came up with a simple storyline based on Church history. The play included early Church hymns, such as “Come, Come, Ye Saints” (Hymns, no. 30).
We built simple sets and cobbled together costumes from various sources. The branch members and missionaries made up the small cast.
All along I kept wondering how many people would actually attend a play about Mormon pioneers who had lived half a world away from this scenic island.
Still, we pressed on, both with our regular missionary work and in our free time by memorizing lines and practicing hymns.
In time, we were ready. Our branch president placed an advertisement for the date of the free-to-attend production in the newspaper.
Showtime! As you might have guessed, the room was not exactly packed to standing-room-only status (there might’ve been 60 people). Still, we were happy with the turnout and enjoyed spending an evening honoring and celebrating the faith and courage of the early Saints.
And then the following Sunday rolled around. A woman we didn’t recognize sat down with the congregation.
We hurried over to introduce ourselves.
This sister turned out to be a member of the Church who hadn’t attended in years. She was new to the area, so her records were not with the branch. After seeing the newspaper ad, she decided to watch the performance. From that Sunday on she attended regularly and became a big blessing to the branch.
I’m sure plenty of other good came out of this pioneer play effort, but for me it’s also a reminder of how important is the “one” (see Luke 15:4). Elder M. Russell Ballard of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles has taught, “Brothers and sisters, never, never underestimate how precious is the one.”1
It well may be that the entire reason we were inspired to put on this play was to reach this one sister. On an island already so full of beauty, isn’t that a beautiful thought?