Gospel Story Finder

On several occasions different mothers have recounted a similar story to me. They were all survivors of sexual abuse. Forgiveness was a struggle for each of them. Then someone in their family was accused of abusing another—usually the accused was one of their children. Can you imagine what happens to a mother’s insides when her child is so accused, especially when she has personally suffered at the hands of a similar transgressor? Yet all of these women have told me that eventually they were able to see their own transgressors in a new light—children of God who had made a terrible mistake but who someday may repent and receive God’s forgiveness. Such transformation had allowed them to sacrifice fantasies of revenge and turn judgment over to God. They permitted Christ’s blood to surround their pain and cleanse their hearts with peace.

In the fall of 1992 we hosted the Danish minister of education, Bertel Haarder. He had just come from a seminar in Denmark, where he had gathered 100 of the leading Danish educators to discuss the future of Danish education. In preparation for the seminar, he sent a copy of Allan Bloom’s book The Closing of the American Mind to each participant. He asked the seminar participants to read the book and come prepared with ideas how they and the Danish Ministry of Education could avoid the problems that had developed in American education.

Minister Haarder was therefore very interested after holding the seminar to come to the United States and visit our university. Minister Haarder and his wife spent two days on our campus. He gave a lecture at the Kennedy Center and met with the university president, faculty, and students. Although the Haarders were very impressed with BYU, they were even more impressed with the quality of the LDS students and their willingness to interrupt their university studies for missionary service.

When we took the Haarders to the Salt Lake Airport on a Wednesday, it was very busy, even though it was 8:15 in the morning. Minister Haarder was curious why the airport was so congested at that early hour. I told him it was because missionaries were departing for their assignments, and their families were seeing them off. He asked how I could tell. I smiled and pointed out the new suits, white shirts, and missionary badges.

He asked, “Where are they going?”

I said, “Throughout the world.”

As we walked down the concourse, we approached a missionary who was saying good-bye to his family. I suggested to Minister Haarder that we ask him where he was going. I interrupted the family conversation long enough to ask, “Elder, where are you going?”

The missionary politely answered, “North Dakota, sir.”

I then introduced the missionary and his parents to Minister Haarder. Minister Haarder asked the missionary how he felt about serving a mission. The missionary responded that he was excited, but he would miss his family.

Minister Haarder commented, “Well, you will be able to come home for vacations and holidays, won’t you?”

The missionary responded, “No, sir. When I go, I am there for two years and won’t see my family until the end of those two years.”

Minister Haarder then turned to the parents and asked, “How do you feel about that?”

The mother replied, “We will miss him, but we are very proud of him. This was his decision.”

We concluded the conversation and again proceeded toward his departure gate. However, before getting there, we visited with other missionaries: one going to South Carolina, a second going to Moscow, and a third going to St. Petersburg. In each case Minister Haarder asked the missionary several questions regarding his desire to serve a mission, how he felt about interrupting his education, and what he hoped to accomplish during his mission. Minister Haarder was overwhelmed by the answers he received.

The airline was giving the final boarding notice as we came to the departure gate. However, I took time to ask, “Minister Haarder, you just came from a seminar where you read and discussed The Closing of the American Mind. That book suggests that American education is in an intellectual crisis. It portrays youth as self-centered, lacking commitment, having no direction in their lives, and having little identity with their culture and religion.” I continued, “How do you compare that image of American education and American students to what you have seen at BYU and the missionaries you have just met?”

He paused and thoughtfully answered, “What I have observed is the antithesis of what was portrayed of American education and youth. I am very impressed with your university and your students. Both are uniquely different.”

As a result of his visit to BYU and Utah, Bertel Haarder has become a friend of the university and the Church. The Copenhagen stake president shared the following account with me that demonstrates the impact these visits are having for the Church. One day not long after the minister’s return to Denmark, he heard a radio call-in show that focused on the Mormons. One caller made some critical comments about the Church. Other callers followed with equally disparaging comments. Then a caller came on the line and said, “This is Bertel Haarder.” Most Danes knew who Bertel Haarder was because he had been minister of education for 10 years. He then continued, “When I was a young man I probably had the same impression of the Mormon Church. But recently my wife and I visited Utah and saw the Mormons up close. What you are saying is incorrect, and I suggest you discontinue this discussion.” The radio station not only discontinued the topic, but they closed the program and played music for the balance of the program time.

That evening I prayed and asked God to help me find His missionary church. The next day I looked for the missionaries. I checked with every person I saw who was wearing a white shirt, but I had no success.
Outside my home a few days later, I saw three people wearing white shirts, ties, and name tags! I ran inside, got the book, and hurried after them.
When I caught up with them, one of them asked, “Can we help you?”
“Is this book from your church?” I asked.
“Yes, it’s our book,” he replied enthusiastically. “We are the missionaries.”
After several weeks of learning about the restored gospel, I was baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. A year later my father was baptized.

The greatest lessons I have learned about the enabling power have come from the quiet example of my wife in our own home. I watched her persevere through intense and continuous morning sickness and vomiting during each of her three pregnancies. She literally was sick all day every day for eight months with each pregnancy. That challenge was never removed from her. But together we prayed that she would be strengthened, and she indeed was blessed through the enabling power of the Atonement to do physically what in her own power she could not do. Sister Bednar is a remarkably capable and competent woman, and over the years I have seen how she has been magnified to handle the mocking and scorn that come from a secular society when a Latter-day Saint woman heeds prophetic counsel and makes the family and home and the nurturing of children her highest priorities. In today’s world a righteous woman and mother in Zion will need both priesthood support and the enabling power of the Atonement. I thank and pay tribute to Susan for helping me to learn such invaluable lessons.

David dove off the boat ramp into the deep, green water, down and down, looking for the happiness he’d always found when swimming in the pond. The pond was on his grandfather’s land, and he was staying with his grandparents, at least for now. He burst through the surface and gulped down the warm June air. The cows, which had followed him to the pond, looked startled at his sudden appearance from under the water, as if they hadn’t seen him do this a thousand times before. They were lined up on the wooden ramp like a row of animal bathing beauties on a diving board.
David chuckled at them and rolled over onto his back, remembering how it was when he was only five and his mother was teaching him to swim. He had clung to her, scared but excited, until she finally went under the water and he went under with her, holding his breath for the first time. When they came up, he was laughing so hard that he couldn’t stop.
“What’s so funny?” she’d demanded. “You—your hair was going straight up!” It was the first of many days spent at the pond, giggling and splashing and laughing.
That summer his grandmother had planted yellow willows along the banks. Now they had grown up tall, just like David. On one side of the pond, his grandfather had given the willows a haircut, cutting their weeping branches off evenly six feet above the dusty path. On the other side, the willows were long and trailing, their leafy tips dipping into the green water. David caught some of these with his toes as he floated by on his back. He pulled them along with him for a little while, shaking the leaves higher up on the tree. He hadn’t found what he was looking for; he knew that he wouldn’t now. Even the combination of the warm sun and the cool water wasn’t enough to make him happy again.
Still floating, he looked straight up into the open sky and squinted at a passing bird. He could hear his grandfather working with his hoe. Even though he was eleven years old, his grandfather still stayed close by when he was swimming. He wondered how much longer he and Dad would stay with Grandpa. They had come to the farm as soon as school was out for the summer, because Dad knew it was David’s favorite place.
When his mother was still alive, the pond was the best place in the world. But Mom had died in the spring, and he missed her so much that his head ached from it. He wanted a whole family with a father and a mother. The sky suddenly blurred as if he were under water again. He desperately wanted to feel better, but he didn’t know how.
“Shoo, you moos!” He waved his arms. “Go on, move!” The cows lumbered off, settling down under the willows. He climbed onto the ramp and lay there, making a wet silhouette on the boards, and thought of his mother. She had been the only member of the Church in the family. He had gone to Primary, and Dad had listened to the missionary discussions, but neither he nor his dad had been baptized.
After she died, Dad talked with him about joining the Church. “Davy, I’ve decided to be baptized. I’d like you to be baptized with me, but you are old enough to decide for yourself.”
“I’ve already decided. I don’t want to be baptized with you.” David turned away so he wouldn’t see the disappointment in his father’s face. He didn’t know then—or now—exactly why he answered the way he did. He wasn’t sure of anything.
“All right,” Dad had said, “but will you think and pray about it while we’re at Grandpa’s? You know that if you’re baptized, we can go to the temple next summer and be sealed together as a family.”
David knew about the temple. He had learned about it in Primary, but all that he cared about now was that Mom was gone, that she wouldn’t swim and laugh with him again.
Dad was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on a Saturday afternoon, and the smile on his face as he came up out of the water was one of a very few that David saw anymore.
He was still thinking about that rare smile, when a bee buzzed close to his ear. He sat up. His swim trunks were nearly dry, and the planks of the boat ramp were getting hot in the sun. He remembered Grandpa telling him the story of building the boat ramp on the little pond.
“When Grandma and I were first married and bought this farm, Davy, there was no ramp, just a pond. Grandma said that she wanted to swim but that she wasn’t going to get her feet muddy getting out of the water—you know your grandma. So I went up to the lake to see how it was done, then came back and built Grandma the boat ramp.”
“Is that when the neighbors started to tease you?”
“Yes.” Grandpa laughed, remembering. “They wanted to know when I was going to bring my yacht up to our watering hole. But it didn’t matter. I loved your grandma so much that I would do anything for her. I still do.”
Now Grandpa’s words repeated themselves inside his head: “I loved your grandma so much that I would do anything for her.” Did Dad love Mom that much? He thought about his father’s plan to go to the temple next summer. Yes, he loved her enough to study and pray about the Church and then be baptized. What about me? he wondered. Do I love Mom that much?
The tune to a Primary song came into his head. Its last few words floated like a whisper into his heart: “A family is forever.”
He bowed his head and put his hands in his lap, praying for the first time since Mom died. “Heavenly Father, please help me to know what to do. Please help me to feel better. Please help me!”
Suddenly he was warm all over, with a feeling that started somewhere near his heart and spread out to his fingers and toes. He felt reassured and relieved, just as he had when he was learning to swim and felt Mom’s arms around him. There was something else too. He knew the gospel was true, and he wanted to be baptized and go to the temple the next summer with Dad. He would tell him tonight.
All at once he jumped up and took a joyful flying leap off Grandma’s boat ramp, making a gigantic splash in the pond. He rose quickly to the surface, breaking through the water with a grin on his face. The cows looked at him in surprise, as if they had never seen him do it before.

Have you ever found yourself in a conversation where you were suddenly required to remain silent while your point of view was misconstrued and belittled? Such a thing happened to me almost 25 years ago, and the frustration of that unfinished conversation has remained to this day.
As mission president, I had been invited, with others from the Church, to meet with the mayor of one of the cities in our mission. He was cordial as he welcomed us into his office. Our conversation touched upon concerns of the day. Eventually he asked why the Church was doing missionary work in his city.
This was not unexpected. An impression had come to me some weeks before that he would ask this question and what my response should be. I replied, “The gospel of Jesus Christ provides answers and solutions to all of the world’s problems, including those confronting the good people of your city. This is why we are here.”
I fully expected the mayor would want to know more. Instead, his mood changed. Skepticism then disdain took control of his countenance. He blustered about my naive approach to challenges in the world and brought our visit to an abrupt close. No further explanation was permitted.
This morning I should like to complete that conversation. I hope the good mayor is listening because what follows is vital to a troubled world.
We are sobered by the terrible calamities of recent years. They occur with increasing frequency and intensity. Natural forces are ferocious in their scope, human assaults are merciless in their carnage, and unchecked appetites are leading to licentiousness, crime, and family decay approaching epic proportions. The tsunami in southern Asia and hurricanes in the United States, with their terrible tolls, are the most recent calamities capturing our attention. Hearts and hands from around the world reach out to those so profoundly affected. For a brief period differences yield to compassion and love.
We are indebted to those who, when buffeted by calamities, remind us of man’s dependence upon God. A widow in a refugee camp, anguishing over the brutal slaying of her sons, weeps the words, “I must not lose my faith.” Survivors, overwhelmed by Katrina’s fury, send out the plea, “Pray for us.”
Causes of such calamities are the subject of seemingly endless debate. Commentators, politicians, scientists, and many others have opinions as to the causes.
The Lord Jesus Christ said concerning the Restoration of His gospel:
“Wherefore, I the Lord, knowing the calamity which should come upon the inhabitants of the earth, called upon my servant Joseph Smith, Jun., and spake unto him from heaven, and gave him commandments; …
“Search these commandments, for they are true and faithful, and the prophecies and promises which are in them shall all be fulfilled.”
Let us turn our attention to the reasons or purposes for such calamities. Fortunately, debate is not needed here because we have the fulness of Christ’s gospel on which we can rely. Search the words of the prophets in the Book of Mormon and the Bible; read the teachings of Jesus Christ in the 24th chapter of Matthew; study the Lord’s latter-day revelations in the Doctrine and Covenants. Herein we learn the purposes of God in such matters.
Calamities are a form of adversity, and adversity is a necessary part of Heavenly Father’s plan for the happiness of His children.
If our hearts are right before God, adversity will school us, help us overcome our carnal nature, and nurture the divine spark within us. Were it not for adversity, we would not know to “choose the better part.” Adversity helps us see where we need to repent, to bring into subjection baser instincts, to embrace righteousness and enjoy “peace of conscience.”
The more we cleave unto righteousness, the more we enjoy the protecting care of our Savior. He is the Creator and Lord of the universe. He will calm the winds and the waves. His teachings and Atonement will heal the repentant soul. He is the Messiah or Deliverer, and because of Him, each of us can be in charge of his or her personal world, even as tragedies beset us. Listen to these truths:
“The Messiah cometh in the fulness of time, that he may redeem the children of men from the fall. And because that they are redeemed from the fall they have become free forever, knowing good from evil; to act for themselves and not to be acted upon, save it be by the punishment of the law at the great and last day, according to the commandments which God hath given.
“Wherefore, men are free according to the flesh; and all things are given them which are expedient unto man. And they are free to choose liberty and eternal life, through the great Mediator of all men, or to choose captivity and death, according to the captivity and power of the devil; for [the devil] seeketh that all men might be miserable like unto himself.”
We will do well to remember that the devil is the destroyer.
It is true that in this life we are only as free as our mortal circumstances allow. We may not be able to stay the course of war in distant lands or with our puny arm hold back the tempests that rage or run freely when our body is imprisoned by failing health. But it is verily true that such things do not ultimately control our personal world. We do!
The Prophet Joseph Smith declared, “Happiness is the object and design of our existence; and will be the end thereof, if we pursue the path that leads to it; and this path is virtue, uprightness, faithfulness, holiness, and keeping all the commandments of God.”
And so, most honorable mayor, the gospel of Jesus Christ does provide answers to all of the world’s problems, precisely because it provides solutions to the ills of every living soul.
Every time calamity strikes, there is a corresponding sacred obligation that falls upon each of us to become better. We should ask ourselves, “What part of my life needs to change so that the weight of chastisement need not be felt?”
In the scriptures the Lord makes clear what He expects of us as such judgments descend. He says: “Gird up your loins and be prepared. Behold, the kingdom is yours, and the enemy shall not overcome.”
The Church and its members are commanded to be self-reliant and independent. Preparation begins with faith, which enables us to weather vicissitudes as they come. We see earth life as a preparatory journey. Faith in the Lord and His gospel conquers fear and begets spirituality.
Spirituality grows as we “pray, and … walk uprightly before the Lord.” It is “the consciousness of victory over self and of communion with the Infinite.”
Faith, spirituality, and obedience produce a prepared and self-reliant people. As we obey the covenant of tithing, we are shielded from want and the power of the destroyer. As we obey the fast and give generously to care for others, our prayers are heard and family fidelity increases. Similar blessings come as we obey the counsel of the prophets and live within our means, avoid unnecessary debt, and set aside sufficient of life’s necessities to sustain ourselves and our families for at least a year. This may not always be easy, but let us do our “very best,” and our stores shall not fail—there shall be “enough and to spare.”
And again the Lord says, “Be ye strong from henceforth; fear not, for the kingdom is yours.”
Strength and resiliency come by righteous living. One is not righteous who is a saint on Sunday and a slacker the remainder of the week. Unchecked appetites are destructive and cause men to “trifle … with sacred things.” President Brigham Young taught, “The sin that will cleave to all the posterity of Adam and Eve is, that they have not done as well as they knew how.”
The gospel of Jesus Christ is the pathway to righteousness. Tragedies never triumph where personal righteousness prevails. Let us, therefore, heed the counsel of the Apostle Paul:
“The night is far spent, the day is at hand: let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armour of light.
“Let us walk honestly, as in the day; not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and wantonness, not in strife and envying.
“But put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the flesh, to fulfil the lusts thereof.”
Our duty as Latter-day Saints is to prepare ourselves, this earth, and its inhabitants for the Second Coming of the Lord Jesus Christ. Being prepared and being strong as the gospel teaches ensure happiness here and hereafter and make this “grand millennial mission” possible.
Our beloved President Hinckley has admonished: “Now, my brethren and sisters, the time has come for us to stand a little taller, to lift our eyes and stretch our minds to a greater comprehension and understanding of the grand millennial mission of this, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. This is a season to be strong. It is a time to move forward without hesitation, knowing well the meaning, the breadth, and the importance of our mission. It is a time to do what is right regardless of the consequences that might follow. It is a time to be found keeping the commandments. It is a season to reach out with kindness and love to those in distress and to those who are wandering in darkness and pain. It is a time to be considerate and good, decent and courteous toward one another in all of our relationships—in other words, to become more Christlike.”
This admonition by the Lord’s prophet points our way through these turbulent times. To all who suffer, our hearts reach out to you. May Heavenly Father, in His infinite mercy, make light your burdens and fill your lives with that peace which “passeth all understanding.” You are not alone. Our love and faith and prayers are joined with yours. Press forward in righteousness, and all will be well.
In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

One such experience occurred when my older brother, Adrian, needed surgery. Medical facilities here are limited, and it was necessary for him to leave his wife and children to fly to the mainland. He resisted the trip, fearing a problem with the small plane he would be taking. But in the end, he had to go. Boarding with him were the pilot and two television reporters.
As I heard the plane fly overhead, I sent my thoughts with my brother: Have no fear, Adrian. Heavenly Father will watch over you. Yet I felt prompted to go to my room and pray for his protection.
I was still on my knees when my husband came in. “I don’t know how to tell you this,” he began.
“Tell me what?”
“Adrian’s plane has crashed into the sea. We don’t know yet if there are any survivors.”
Thankfully, all four men lived. They were rescued by some people in a fishing boat and were soon back safe on the island. The entire population was waiting for them when they returned to the dock. We applauded with relief and joy and shed many tears of gratitude.
The next day the two reporters came to my place of work and gave me their version of what had happened. When the plane began to go down, the pilot ordered them to break the windows and throw out anything they could. Suitcases, cameras, shoes—everything was sacrificed to help the plane stay afloat as long as possible after crashing. The pilot gave some final instructions, and they buckled their seat belts.
Then Adrian began to pray aloud. He told the Lord that all of them felt they had a lot of living left to do. They were heads of families. They all had small children. He pleaded for another chance.
When he finished the prayer, he began to sing one of our hymns, “The Lord is my light; then why should I fear? …” (Hymns, 1985, number 89). The reporters said that without knowing the hymn, they began to sing with him. The music and his prayer gave them hope that they might be saved.
Within a few seconds of impact, the plane sank. But those few seconds were enough. They got the door open and inflated a raft. After the fishing boat picked them up, someone spotted a suitcase floating. It was Adrian’s. Inside was the tithing from our branch, which he was to deliver to Church leaders on the mainland. Other than the four men, the suitcase was the only thing that was saved.
Although we live in one of the most remote places of the earth, we know our Father in Heaven is mindful of us. We have felt his almighty hand, and he has answered our prayers.

I will start with a story related by M. Sue Bergin in a recent BYU Magazine; I quote:

"When Tom Puzey was a teenager, he became perplexed by arguments challenging his religious beliefs. He went to his dad ... in emotional anguish, doubting all he had been taught. His father smiled, hugged him, and said, 'This is wonderful.' Then his father told him, 'It's okay to question ... You'll figure it out. And Tommy ... you're going to be okay."[12]
Tom later noted that he believed his father, which gave him added confidence to resolve his doubts.

This story took place in the USA.
Victoria watched in the mirror as Mom brushed her hair. It was almost time for church.
“Why do we go to church?” Victoria asked.
Mom set down the hairbrush. “We go to church to take the sacrament and learn about Jesus Christ.”
“But why?” Victoria asked.
“The bread and water help us remember how Jesus suffered and died for us,” Mom said. “When we take the sacrament, we remember all the good things He did. And we promise to try to do good things too.”
Victoria smiled. “So we can be like Jesus!”
“That’s right!” Mom helped Victoria put on her shoes. “Trying to be like Jesus makes us happy.”
At church Victoria sat quietly with Mom and Dad. Soon it was time for the sacrament. She bowed her head and listened to the prayer.
Then Mom pulled a book out of her bag. “This is a special book,” she whispered. “It can help you remember the Savior during the sacrament.”
Victoria opened the book. There were lots of pictures of Jesus Christ. One picture showed Him as a baby in a manger. Another showed Him getting baptized. Victoria remembered that story from Primary. She would get to be baptized one day too!
Mom held out the tray of bread. Victoria reverently took a piece. Then she looked back at her book. On the next page there was a picture of Jesus praying in a garden. Victoria knew that He suffered for everyone’s sins and felt their pain and sadness. He must love us a lot, she thought.
Victoria kept turning the pages. Many pictures showed Jesus helping others. In one picture, He was teaching people. In another one, He healed a blind man. There was even one of Him with children.
Next it was time for the water. Victoria bowed her head during the prayer. Then Mom passed her the tray.
Victoria took a little cup of water to drink. She thought about how Jesus loved others. A warm feeling filled her heart. She wanted to be kind and loving too.
“Mom, I want to be like Jesus,” Victoria whispered.
Mom smiled. “That makes me happy. And I know it makes Him happy too.”
Victoria smiled too. She loved Jesus Christ. She wanted to always remember Him.

For example, I honor those special souls who face challenges of parenthood with unwavering faith in their Maker. To a family dear to Sister Nelson and me, a son was recently born. This child was afflicted with multiple anomalies affecting virtually every system of his little body. Two operations were required in his first week of life. More will be necessary. When I spoke with the child’s parents, they did not ask, “Why did this happen to us?” Instead, they declared: “We know that this child is meant for us. God has entrusted this special baby to us. We will love him and care for him to the best of our ability.” Thank the Lord for such parents!

I would like to acknowledge the work that is put into the New Era. I am the editor of the branch paper, and am finding it a challenge to get it out every month. About four years ago I had a letter published in Feedback. Because of that letter, I gained a very special friend. Lori Wall saw my letter and found it very close to her ideals. She wrote to me, and we have been writing to each other ever since. We hope someday to meet each other. I feel that I have known her since the time before we came to earth. I know that I have come to know a very special spirit and sister. Thank you so much for helping us meet each other. I hope that you have made someone else as happy as myself.
Petra MillsOrange, N.S.W., Australia

Beyond their example of faith, and perhaps not seen at the time, they taught a lesson in courage and confidence. They took time from their studies to serve the Lord, believing that the Lord would somehow compensate and multiply their power to learn.

I know for myself that they were inspired to trust the Lord. When I was a student in my twenties, I was asked to be the first counselor in the Boston District in Massachusetts. It required traveling across New England every weekend when the other students were studying. My roommates couldn’t believe that I would be so foolish.

I did the same thing when I was a teacher at Stanford University where I served for three years as a bishop. The other professors thought that I was unwise. But trusting in the Lord, I found what you will find. Wherever you go and whatever work you do, all sacrifice is for Him.

Kim could feel her face turning red and the tears pushing. Biting her lip hard, she forbade the tears to come.
“Practices,” Sister Tibler was saying to Corrie, “will begin next Saturday at nine o’clock. See you there!”
“Wow!” Corrie exclaimed as the Laurel adviser left. “This sounds so fun. Imagine me the lead in the stake play.”
“That’s neat!” Kim managed to say, but felt as if she would choke on the words.
“I’ve never been in a …” Corrie chattered on and on as they walked home, completely oblivious to Kim’s feelings. Kim nodded, agreed, smiled, but inside the hurt surged and grew until she could barely hold it in. It was the best performance she’d ever given—and the most painful. Finally they reached Corrie’s house.
“Want to come in?” Corrie asked.
“No, I’d better get home and help Mom with dinner.”
“Hurry home to help? You’re nuts. Stay here till it’s ready and then go. I’ve got a great new record we can listen to.”
“No. I’d better go,” Kim answered.
“See you tomorrow then,” Corrie called as she disappeared inside. “But don’t forget, I offered you a way out of work!”
Kim hurried up the street. The rest of the family would already be home, but maybe she could slip in with no one noticing. Quietly she opened the door, tiptoed into the family room, and headed for the stairs.
“Hey, Kim,” her sister, Janice, called. “Did Sister Tibler give you that part you wanted in the stake play?”
“No,” Kim answered, the word swelling in her throat. “She gave it to Corrie.”
“Figures.” Janice said. “Maybe if you went inactive for a while they’d let you do something fun.” Janice laughed, but the words broke Kim’s hold on the tears. Running down the stairs, she felt her way to her room, threw herself on the bed, and let the tears fall.
“I needed that part!” Kim whispered. “And I could do a better job.” Her sobs exploded in her throat. “Corrie doesn’t need it! It couldn’t mean as much to her. Why? Why? Why? It isn’t fair.”
“Kim?” her mother called softly through the door. “Can I come in?”
Kim sat up, grabbed a tissue, and tried to wipe away the evidence, but she knew even without looking that her eyes were too red to fool anyone.
“I guess so,” Kim answered.
The door opened and Mrs. Harper, a small lively woman, entered. “Janice said something was wrong.”
Kim kept her head turned away from her mother. “Just thinking.”
“Janice also told me what happened.”
“Janice talks too much.”
“Can I help?”
Suddenly the pain and bafflement came, pouring out in words. “Oh, Mom. I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but sometimes I just don’t understand. I’ve gone to church all my life. I try to be good. I do everything I’m asked to do, which is always the yuck and the work; call all the Laurels, wash a thousand stacks of slimy dishes at the high priests banquet, tend Mrs. Smith’s bratty, messy kids because she’s sick. But no one ever notices me. Every week I’m in my meetings. No one says a word. Corrie comes once a year and there’re trumpets and red carpet and hugs and kisses and,” Kim raised her voice in mock imitation, “Oh, we’re so very, very, very, very, very glad and happy and overjoyed and delighted to have you here, Corrie!”
Kim wiped once more at her eyes. The pressure had eased and the tears had slowed. “I know I shouldn’t feel like this. I know they’re just trying to help Corrie become active, but Mom, no one ever tells me they’re glad to see me. There’s never red carpet or trumpets for me. And now …” The tears started again despite all her efforts to hold them in. “Now they’ve given her the lead in the stake play. I needed that part. You know how Mr. Thornley told us that if I could just be in a couple more plays he thought I’d be able to get that drama scholarship.”
Mrs. Harper sat next to Kim and hugged her close. “I don’t know what to say. I know how you feel.”
“Oh, Mom, I even feel bad that I feel bad!” Kim tried to laugh. “I feel guilty. I should be happy that Corrie is beginning to come out to church.”
“And maybe that’s your answer,” Mrs. Harper said.
“Answer?”
“Not every girl your age would even feel guilty. That shows a great deal of maturity. Maybe the blessings of doing what’s right—washing dishes and tending kids and being active—aren’t material blessings, aren’t parts in plays. Think about it awhile.” She hugged her daughter again. “I don’t mean to diminish your pain. It’s there. I know it, but you’ve kept it private and you didn’t hurt Corrie. I’m proud of you.”
Kim smiled—barely.
“Come on now, let’s get dinner and then if you want, we can talk about it more later.”
Kim wiped at her eyes one more time and put on a smile. It was one of the best stage faces she’d ever created.
“That’s better,” Mrs. Harper said. “Now let’s get dinner.”
The pressurized feeling was gone, but all afternoon the thoughts and emotions jostled inside her. It really wasn’t fair. No amount of reasoning or logic could bring her to any other conclusion. But what had her mother meant? What other blessings were there?
Dinner was eaten, cleaned away, the home evening lesson was over, and Kim was writing in her journal when the telephone rang.
“Kim,” Mrs. Harper called, “Sister Tibler’s on the phone for you.”
Kim wished she could ask her Mom to say she wasn’t there, but it would be easier to get her to sprout wings and fly.
“I’m coming,” she called back.
Kim took the phone but her mother didn’t leave.
“What is it?” she asked as Kim hung up. “She sounded upset.”
“She was. Lara’s father had a heart attack this afternoon. He died about an hour ago.”
“Oh, no,” Mrs. Harper whispered.
“They don’t have any relatives around, and Lara’s mom is taking it pretty hard.”
“And Lara’s an only child, isn’t she?”
“Yes. That’s why Sister Tibler thought we ought to go over and keep her company. See if we can help.”
“I’ve got some chocolate chip cookies in the freezer. Take those over and see if there’s anything I can do to …”
Kim smiled, then chuckled.
“What’s wrong?” Mrs. Harper asked.
Kim hugged her mom. “Nothing. It’s just you.”
“I only wanted to …”
“I know,” Kim interrupted. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. As a matter of fact you’re pretty special. Will you get the cookies while I put on my shoes? Sister Tibler said she’d be right over.”
Kim barely had her shoes on when Sister Tibler honked. She opened the door to find it was dusk and raining. “Give Lara these,” Mrs. Harper said, handing Kim the cookies. “But most of all give her yourself.”
Kim pulled her coat up over her head and ran to the car. As she settled into the seat she became acutely aware of the ping ping of rain on the roof and the apprehension rolling and swelling in her stomach. Everything had happened so fast she hadn’t had time to think before now. What should she say? What should she do? Self-consciousness and helplessness settled heavily on her thoughts.
“Before we go,” Sister Tibler suggested, “I think maybe we ought to say a word of prayer. If you don’t mind, I’ll say it.”
They bowed their heads and Kim tried hard to listen, but the dripping rain and the barrage of feelings kept distracting her.
“Help us know how to convey our love and how to comfort … ,” Sister Tibler was saying.
Ping. Splash. Ping. The rhythm accelerated and with it Kim’s heartbeat.
“Amen.”
“Amen,” Kim whispered.
Exchanging only a few comments, they drove, parked, got out of the car, and ran through the rain to the house. Lara answered the door.
“Hi, Lara,” Sister Tibler said, her voice such a contrast to the cold rainy night. “We heard what happened.”
Quietly, without words, Lara stepped back to let them in, her eyes red and swollen. Self-consciously Kim handed her the cookies and opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came. If I only had a script, she thought, as her own eyes began to swim. Then she did the only thing she could do. She hugged Lara tight. After that the words came.
Lara’s mom was still at the hospital and the bishop was with her, but Lara was alone. She needed them. She talked about her feelings and fears and reminisced while Kim and Sister Tibler listened. They talked about the gospel and the comfort it was. They even laughed a little and talked some more until Lara’s mother finally came home.
“We’ll be going now,” Sister Tibler said.
“Thanks for coming.” Lara squeezed Kim’s hand. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been here.”
Outside the dusk had turned to darkness and the rain had stopped falling, leaving the earth soggy and the air misty. Kim felt a strange sensation of cold trying to penetrate her skin while warmth pushed and pulsed from her heart. Silently Kim and Sister Tibler drove through the wet streets, neither one wishing to interrupt the special feeling with words.
“Thanks for going with me,” Sister Tibler finally said, as they drove in Kim’s driveway. “I called all of the other girls to see if any of them wanted to go, but they all had some excuse. Maybe it was for the best. They wouldn’t have been able to comfort Lara like you did.”
“It was a good experience. Thanks.” Kim jumped from the car before Sister Tibler could say more. Dodging the puddles she ran to the house. Mrs. Harper was waiting in the family room.
“How did it go?” she asked.
“Really good. I was surprised. At first—riding over—I was so scared. But when we got there, we just started to talk about what Lara was feeling and about the promises of the gospel. It was so special. I didn’t do anything. Lara just needed a listening ear.”
Mrs. Harper hugged her daughter. “You gave her yourself.”
“I just listened.”
“That’s what I mean. You gave her your love.” Mrs. Harper hesitated.
“Come on, Mom,” Kim laughed. “After 17 years I know when a sermon is coming. Lay it on me!”
“I don’t mean to sermonize. I wanted to give it time so you could discover it on your own. It’s what I was talking about this afternoon.”
“Don’t keep me waiting,” Kim responded, putting her hand to her head melodramatically and swooning. “The suspense will kill me.”
“All right, Ophelia, you asked for it.” Mrs. Harper suddenly grew serious. “Remember this afternoon when I told you that plays and such aren’t the blessings of doing what’s right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, the blessings are things we often don’t even recognize—things like faith, maturity, love, compassion, wisdom, and understanding. They may not get you a scholarship, but they last a lot longer.”
A warm feeling of affirmation and assurance spread through Kim. Then the glimmer returned to her eyes. “Hey, Mom, you ought to write to the Prodigal Son’s brother. He needs tonight’s sermon.”
“You nut!” Mrs. Harper pinched playfully at Kim’s cheek. “If you’re going to make fun of me you’d better get to bed.”
“Oh, I’m not making fun. In heaven I asked for a mother who was also a preacher,” Kim laughed. Inside she felt the joy of a new understanding. There would be other plays and other parts, maybe a drama scholarship and maybe not. But there was only one life and a person had to gain from it as much as possible, even if that meant tending Sister Smith’s kids.

Permit me to give just a personal reference to this principle. Back in the 1940s, my younger brother received a mission call to New England, and (without running through all the details which really don’t matter), he was sent to a little community in Nova Scotia called Kentville. There he labored for most of his mission. As some elders and missionaries do, he came home seemingly a failure if you count the number of people he baptized. You are familiar with the situation of elder brothers teasing their younger brothers when what they do has little or no results. I constantly reminded him of how unproductive his mission was. Twenty years later, almost to the day, I, his older brother, was called to preside over the same mission. In my first district conference at Halifax, Nova Scotia, a little lady came up to me after the first session. She said, “Elder Dunn, Elder Dunn, do you have a brother by the name of David?”
And I said, “I believe I do.”
And she said, “Was he on a mission in New England?”
I said, “He was.”
And then (missionaries will appreciate this) she opened her purse and shuffled through all her pictures. She lifted one out and said, “Is that he?”
I said, “Twenty years ago, that was he.”
“Oh,” she said, “where is he?”
I said, “He’s in southern California.”
“Oh, I’d like to communicate with him. He’s responsible for bringing me into the Church.”
I said, “No, ma’am, you’re mistaken. My brother didn’t bring anybody into the Church.”
“Oh,” she said, “I hate to correct you, sir, but—.” Then she called six other people over, all with great families, who happened to be the backbone of the district at Halifax. And she said, “All of these are because of your brother. We thank God for him.”
Out of small things great things shall proceed.

Last year my stake took the youth to Martin’s Cove. Each participant was to trek in the name of either a rescuer or a handcart pioneer. Part of our preparation was to learn as much as we could about their experience. Our goal was to “walk in their footsteps.” Through my research I discovered that two of my great-grandfather’s brothers had been involved in this pioneer tragedy. Moses Cluff, who had just returned from a mission to England, joined the Hodgett Wagon Company that accompanied the Willie and Martin Handcart Companies. His younger brother, Harvey Cluff, who was only 20 years old, was one of the “valley boys” who formed the first wave of rescuers to meet up with the stranded pioneers. As I learned about their experiences, one interesting detail stood out. Harvey’s history reads:
[The] raging blizzard from the north compelled the relief party to seek shelter some miles down the river where the growth of willows was dense enough to break the force of the wind and afford shelter to animals and some protection to the camp. While encamped in this retired spot, three miles from the road, Harvey was called upon by the captain to take a sign board to the road, in case there were any who might pass along the road and thereby miss the camp. . . . In a few hours after the board was up, two men, Captain Willie and his companion, rode horseback into camp. . . . These two men, without bedding, could not have survived through the night, had they not been directed to the relief camp by the sign board.
Harvey’s obedience and willingness to make the appropriate sacrifice of self not only saved Captain Willie and his companion but facilitated the rescue of all those who were stranded along the trail.

Nine times seven is 63. Six times eight is … 42? No, that’s not right!
Luca furiously erased his answer.
“Time!” Luca’s teacher called. “Everyone hand in your tests.”
“Oh no!” Luca thought. “But I’m not even done!”
Luca sighed as he handed in his test. He had to get a 90 percent on his timed tests to pass his multiplication tables and become a class Multiplication Master, but he just didn’t know how he was going to do it!
That night during family scripture study, Dad read from the Doctrine and Covenants: “Therefore, if you will ask of me you shall receive; if you will knock it shall be opened unto you” (D&C 6:5).
Luca’s head popped up. That was the answer! Prayer!
Luca started praying every day to do well on his timed multiplication test. This would work. It had to work. He would finally become a Multiplication Master!
On Tuesday, Luca came home from school and grabbed his basketball.
“Do you need help studying?” Mom asked.
“Nope! I’ve got it taken care of!” Luca said as he ran out the door. He believed so much in prayer that he didn’t even take out his flash cards to practice his math.
On Friday, Luca knew he was going to pass the test. But when he sat down to take it, the answers just didn’t come, and he did even worse than before!
Luca walked home from the bus stop with his head down. He had prayed so hard to be a Multiplication Master. Why didn’t Heavenly Father answer his prayer?
When he got home, he shot baskets until Dad came home from work. Dad honked the car horn as he pulled up.
“How was school?” Dad asked.
“Not very good,” Luca said, looking down. “I can’t pass my multiplication test.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Dad said. He held up his hands for a pass.
“I should have passed!” Luca said. “I prayed and everything. Dad, you said that Heavenly Father answers prayers. He definitely didn’t answer mine today!”
“Did you practice with your flash cards?” Dad asked.
“No.”
“Did you study at all?”
“No,” Luca said. “But I prayed all week!”
Dad dribbled the ball and looked at Luca. “Well, multiplication is kind of like basketball. How did you get so good at basketball?”
“I practiced,” Luca said.
“Yes, and so when we pray for Heavenly Father to help you before your games, we’re not praying for Him to magically make you a better basketball player. What do we pray for?”
“For me to remember what I practiced,” Luca said.
“That’s right. Prayer works best when we do our part and also ask Heavenly Father to help us,” Dad said.
“So my part is studying my flash cards?” Luca asked.
“Exactly,” Dad said, passing the ball back to Luca.
Luca heaved a big sigh and took a shot. The ball bounced off the rim. “OK. It’s going to take a lot of work. But I guess I can study hard and ask Heavenly Father to help me.”
“There you go!” Dad said. “So, are you ready for a little one-on-one?”
Luca grinned and stole the ball from Dad. “Sure! As long as you help me study at the same time.”
“You’re on,” Dad said. “Six times eight is?”
“Forty-eight!” Luca said, taking another shot. This time it swished through the hoop.
Between practice and prayer, he would become a Multiplication Master after all.

One day in 1862 Henry’s father sent his family some money, and Sister Roberts decided to take two of her children, seven-year-old Anne and two-year-old Thomas, with her on a ship to the United States. At the time, all members of the Church were encouraged to gather to Utah. Sister Roberts didn’t have enough money to take the whole family, so she decided to go to Utah and earn enough money to send for her other two children.
She arranged for some distant relatives to take care of twelve-year-old Mary, but they refused to take Henry, who was five. A husband and wife who were new members of the Church seemed to be good people. They didn’t have any children, and they agreed to be temporary guardians for Henry until Sister Roberts could send for him.
The husband was a stonecutter and thought Henry would be helpful in carrying the buckets of sand and water that were used in stonecutting. Because of the heavy buckets carried on his head, Henry’s head sank low between his shoulders. It wasn’t until he was an adult that his head and shoulders were once again in a normal position.
His temporary “father” was often out of work, and sometimes Henry and his guardians wandered from town to town, sleeping under hedges or in haystacks. They worked at odd jobs when they could, and sometimes they begged. Their only belongings were a Bible, a violin, and a bundle of ragged clothes. They spent many nights in inns, where the husband played the violin, and his wife and Henry sang ballads. Henry sometimes stood on a table to sing, then passed his hat around for coins.
His guardians fought with each other a lot, and sometimes they wanted to be rid of Henry. Once they decided to enlist him in the army as a drummer boy. The night before he was to go, Henry heard a calm voice tell him, “If you are enlisted as a drummer boy, you will never see your mother in America.”
He had promised her that he would go to Utah, no matter what happened, so he left the couple’s cold shack and wandered about for several days. He ate what he could find and slept in doorways and empty boxes. Finally he rejoined them.
While Henry was longing for his mother, she was thinking constantly of him and Mary. In Utah she worked long hours, sewing, tailoring, and making hats. After three years she had earned enough to send for her children.
But Henry could not be found! He was nine years old by the time Church leaders in England found him. On April 30, 1866, he and his sister Mary boarded the sailing ship John Bright with about seven hundred other Latter-day Saints.
The voyage was a mixture of terror and fun. Violent storms brewed at sea, lasting as long as three days. Other days were calm and cloudless. On those days the passengers sometimes sang, danced, and played games on the deck. Henry often played marbles with other children when the ship was steady enough for the marbles to stay in the ring. He and Mary ate food they had brought with them, such as bread and pickled fatty bacon that had turned green.
After the ship landed in New York on June 6, Henry and Mary still had a long way to go. They travelled to Nebraska by boat and train, often riding in cattle cars. The bedding and equipment sent by their mother were not waiting for them in Nebraska, so on July 13 they set off in a Church wagon train with only the clothes on their backs.
To make matters worse, Henry lost his wooden clogs when he crossed the Platte River. Not wanting to wait for the rest of the wagon train to reach the river, Henry got up early and left by himself—something he knew he was not supposed to do. When he reached the river about noon, he was tired and fell asleep. When he woke up, he saw the last of the wagons pulling up on the other side of it.
He shouted, and William Henry Chipman, the captain of the company, told him to swim across the river. Taking off his heavy coat and wooden clogs so he could swim, Henry plunged into the water. When the current carried him downstream, Captain Chipman rode his horse into the water. Henry grabbed a stirrup and held on while the horse swam across.
He was safe, but he had to walk across the remaining plains barefoot. His feet became black, hard, and cracked from the journey; blood often oozed from the cracks. Sometimes at night Mary cried in sympathy as she pulled spines of prickly pear cactus from his feet.
Near Fort Laramie, Wyoming, the Saints lost many cattle in an Indian raid and had little food, but a relief train from Salt Lake City kept them from starving.
When Henry and Mary entered Salt Lake City on September 15, 1866, it had been more than four years since they had seen their mother. Henry walked proudly at the head of the train, his clothes in tatters, his hair sticking out in all directions. In honor of the occasion, he was wearing a pair of boots, many sizes too large, that he had discovered in a burned-out pony express station.
His mother was nowhere to be seen. When the company halted for the last time, Henry sat on a crate in a wagon, heartsick, watching the happy reunions between loved ones. At last he saw a woman in a red and white plaid shawl approaching. He went to her and said, “Hey, Mother.”
“Is that you, Henry?” she asked. “Where is Mary?” Mary was hiding inside a wagon, ashamed of her ragged clothing. The family was finally reunited. However, there was sad news. During her journey to Utah, Sister Roberts had watched her baby, Thomas, weaken and die. She had buried him in a donated breadbox coffin along the way.
When Henry arrived in Utah, he couldn’t read or write, but he learned very quickly. Brigham, as Henry was now called, helped to support his family by farming, herding cattle, training horses, prospecting, mining, and blacksmithing. One night he and a friend shot a 550-pound (250-kg) grizzly bear. They sold the hide, and Brigham used his share of the money to help pay for his education at the University of Deseret (now the University of Utah). He finished his two-year course of study in one year, graduating in 1878 at the head of his class.
Brigham, or B. H. as he was often known in later life, went on to achieve great things. He served missions in the United States and Great Britain. He presided over the Southern and Eastern States Missions. He wrote many books, including the six-volume Comprehensive History of the Church. He became famous for his eloquence in preaching the gospel. He served in the First Quorum of the Seventy and was elected to the U.S. House of Representatives. The poor boy sleeping in doorways, yearning for his mother’s love, had grown into one of the most loved and respected men in the Church.

What are some of the best ways to gain a better understanding of someone else’s faith? You could go to official online sources, and that’s pretty good. But if you only search online, that won’t always give you the whole picture. When it comes to really understanding a faith, you can learn a lot by talking to the people who practice it.
And that’s just what some young people in California, USA, are doing.
The mission statement of the Interfaith Youth Council of Orange County (IYCOC) says their goal is to help youth “come together to promote respect, understanding, and appreciation for the integrity of each other’s beliefs, cultures, and traditions.” One way it does this is by hosting an annual Faith Forum and Festival.
Last year’s festival was held on a beautiful Sunday afternoon near the grounds of the Newport Beach California Temple. Over 150 youth from more than a dozen different faiths were able to take a tour of the temple grounds and ask questions about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Missionaries from the California Irvine Mission served as tour guides. They fielded questions from the youth about the basic beliefs of the Church and about the temple. These youth were seeking greater understanding of Latter-day Saints’ faith, and they knew this was a great way to get it.
“It’s better to understand other people’s faiths and not just think of them the way you think they are,” said Mohammed, a Muslim. “You need to actually know what their religion is.”
Nazee, a Zoroastrian, agreed. “These interfaith events bring people together and promote respect and understanding for all religions. I want to reach out to more people to help them to learn about other faiths.”
After the tour, the youth met in a nearby stake center to talk about and share their beliefs. Youth from various faiths were seated at tables together. They asked each other about their traditions and beliefs, their struggles in practicing their faith, and how their faith affects their views of current social issues.
As the youth expressed their beliefs, the conversations became more open. Latter-day Saint youth were able to share their feelings about being sealed together as families for eternity in temples, helping and serving others, why we emphasize the full name of the Church, and even what it’s like walking for miles and miles on a pioneer trek.
In the same discussions, youth of other faiths shared their own beliefs, values, and challenges. One young man of the Sikh faith said he has to live his faith stronger since he is no longer in India surrounded by others of his faith. A Jewish young man expressed the challenge of keeping the Sabbath day holy in today’s society. A young woman shared what it’s like to be one of only three students of her faith at her school.
Some from other countries remembered the joy of celebrating their traditions back home and how it’s different in America, where they’re not as widely celebrated. Others expressed hope that someday there wouldn’t be so many negative stereotypes about their faith.
Representatives of various religions from the youth council stood at the front of the meeting and lit an electric candle as they stated their hope about religion.
“I light this candle in hopes of peace and unity,” Mohammed said.
“I light this candle to support faith education,” Lizzie, a Hindu, said.
“My hope is that we can all find respect for each other that we didn’t have before,” Jessie, a Protestant, said.
Daniel C., who served as the vice president of the interfaith youth council, represented The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and said he hopes “that we can find similarities between our faiths.”
All youth participants took a moment of silence in unity and respect for each other.
“We want there to be more respect and less alienation,” Daniel said. He has attended many “house of worship” tours with the council over the last few years, visiting places such as the local Jain Center, Sikh Center, Buddhist Temple, Islamic institution, and Zoroastrian Center.
“I have much more respect now that I have made friends with people of other faiths and have seen what’s important to them,” Daniel said. “I learned that all religions are rooted in the values of doing good to others and serving your fellowmen. Most religions have beliefs similar to the Golden Rule.”
Daniel’s friends who have participated on the interfaith youth council expressed similar understandings and desires. Raj, of the Sikh faith, said, “I think that these experiences have shown us a lot of the similarities between our faiths, and as a result of that, it’s comforting to see that people are feeling the same way you do.”
“At the end of the day, everyone wants peace, unity,” Mohammed said. “No one wants terrorism; no one wants to hurt others. They just want to have a good society and a good community.”
Learning about different faiths and cultures helped him get rid of misconceptions, Raj said. “There’s so much more to it than what I previously thought. I want to reach out to more people for them to learn about other faiths as well.”
Paige M., one of the Latter-day Saint participants, said, “I think if we can join together with other religions and realize our commonalities instead of our differences, then we can help protect religious freedom and be able to come to understand what everyone else is talking about, gaining a respect for what they believe.”
Understanding, respect, friendship, and love. These are things that people of all faiths strive for. And when we strive for them together, it can be a very powerful thing.

Brother Johnson concluded with this last experience: “On another occasion when I was in Iraq, I was assigned to transport about 150 enemy insurgents who had been captured to a detention center. We got on a military plane, and the insurgents were handcuffed and sitting on the floor of the plane because they had taken all the seats out. During the flight, through my headphones, I listened to some talks from the general conference that I had downloaded. At that moment, although I was in the middle of a war, surrounded by people who wanted to harm me, listening to the voice of the prophet, I could feel God’s love and feel an intense personal peace.”

The Book of Mormon is not just a history book, nor just a book of scripture, for the Wolfgramm kids, whose parents migrated from Tonga to Salt Lake City nearly 20 years ago. It’s the story of their family—their relatives. Its sacred pages help them trace their genealogy back to Adam, through their 88th great-grandfather, Nephi.
Their story parallels that of their ancestors in the Book of Mormon to some degree. Their parents, Mike and Vake, left their homeland and crossed the sea for religious reasons. Back then there were no temples in the South Pacific, and they came to Salt Lake City to be sealed together. They didn’t have the funds to make it back to Tonga, however, so they stayed in the States and began adding to their family.
Like the family of Lehi, the Wolfgramms had to work hard to carve a place for themselves in their new country. In addition to other jobs, the parents were involved in Polynesian performing groups in the Salt Lake area. As soon as the children were old enough to walk and talk, they were taught to play, sing, and dance in the Polynesian tradition. They eagerly took to the stage, and soon the family had a Polynesian group of their own.