Gospel Story Finder

1 That’s a great jack-o’-lantern, Wendy! Want me to help you put in the candle?
Thanks, David.
2 David, when you said you wanted to join the Mormons, I gave my permission reluctantly. I thought that you were making a big mistake.
I know.
3 Well, I was wrong. You’ve become an even better son and brother.
Thanks, Dad. I’m just trying to be the kind of person you taught me to be.
4 I think maybe we were afraid you’d become a fanatic and write us all off as sinners.
How could I ever do that? You’re the greatest!
5 Well, it’s pretty easy for people to focus on their differences.
It says right in the Articles of Faith that we should respect all religions. Joseph Smith knew what it was like when people didn’t.
6 So, what do you think?
Outstanding! What do you think?
Likewise!

Moses Mahlangu, yet another Elias, was a preacher from Soweto, South Africa. He found a copy of the Book of Mormon, but because the bottom of the title page was torn off, he did not know what church had published it.

As he read the book, he was filled with light and understanding. He said, “I had had desires to find God and to receive revelation, but I was never satisfied until I got the Book of Mormon.” He told his fellow pastors:

We fight every day over what the Bible says about baptism. We fight about the name of the church. The Book of Mormon is very clear on these points. . . . People will have no need to fight if they read both the Bible and the Book of Mormon. [In LeBaron, “All Are Alike,” p. 191]

Fluent in nine languages, Moses taught from the Book of Mormon and gathered many followers before he ever learned the name of the Church and made contact with it. Then, for more than 14 years he waited, preparing himself and others for baptism. During this time he frequently came to the mission office in Johannesburg to obtain copies of the Book of Mormon and other literature, and I was therefore privileged to know him.

Soon after the revelation was announced, I sought out Moses. As we embraced I asked him if he had heard about the revelation. He said, “Yes. Does this mean that I can now be baptized?”

I asked, “Moses, would you like to be baptized?”

His eyes welled up with tears as he said softly, “I have waited for 14 years.”

I conducted a baptismal interview that I shall never forget. To every question I received the same answer: “I have been keeping that commandment for 14 years.” I was deeply humbled in the presence of this great pioneer. His son, who as a boy accompanied Moses in his ministry, is now serving as Moses’ bishop in the Soweto Ward, near Johannesburg.

In contrast, selflessness builds strong, loving relationships. Several years before his death, former Brigham Young University president Rex E. Lee was hospitalized for five months with cancer. His wife, Janet, was at his side virtually every day. When he “was so sick that he couldn’t even read his favorite literature—[U.S.] Supreme Court cases—Janet read the cases aloud to him while tenderly rubbing his bare feet. In a multitude of such moments, the roots of their love, including their affection, stretched ever deeper. President Lee said he knew Janet loved him before, but now their love has a depth they could not otherwise know” (Bruce C. and Marie K. Hafen, “‘Bridle All Your Passions,’” Ensign, February 1994, 17).

In 1914 he spent the first year of his Central States mission traveling, relying on the good will of the people for his bed and a meal each night. He was made president of the East Missouri conference, in charge of 25 missionaries. According to his records, he personally contacted 3,800 nonmembers during the first half of 1916. Even his piano-playing skills were useful. Tracting one day in St. Louis he noticed a piano in a home. “It’s a Kimball, isn’t it?” he asked a woman who was closing the door. “That’s my name too. I could play a song on it for you that you might like to hear.” She let him in, and he played and sang, “O My Father.”

Now, in closing, I want to share with you a personal experience I had with my grandfather, Harold B. Lee, an Idaho boy like some of you and a past president of the Church, wherein he taught me about developing and giving our gifts. When I was a senior in college, I took my patriarchal blessing to Grandfather. My request to him was that he read my blessing with me, and counsel me as to how I might recognize, develop, and give my gifts, using the patriarch's inspiration as context. Grandfather read my blessing and then said: "Well, Alan, that's a fine blessing." He paused, and continued: "My impression is that you worry too much about the future, Alan." This was not what I had come to hear. Though I would not have admitted it at the time, in my heart of hearts I hoped he would look into the crystal ball and tell me about a career. In fact, I would have been even more delighted if he had told me my future wife's name, and how to find her.

Grandfather went on to recount briefly, his own personal history. He said, "You know as a boy growing up in Clifton, Idaho, we prayed for the 'pillars of the Church.' We meant the Brethren, the General Authorities. I could no more have thought of becoming one of them than fly to the moon, which in those days also seemed an impossibility." He came home from a mission and thought he would be a farmer, but things weren't going well there so he decided to attend a university. At the University of Utah he met a young woman who was willing to walk home with him the five miles after a date, because he didn't have the five cents to pay the trolley. Friendship ripened into love, and they were married. Upon graduation, Grandfather found a job as a high school principal. After a few years, his wife suggested maybe he could be doing something else and he got into distributing books throughout the Western United States. Then, one of the city commissioners died in the middle of his term, and Grandfather, because of contacts he had made as a book distributor, was asked to fill the rest of that man's term. He was then elected to a term of his own.

During this same time, Grandfather had been called as a Stake President. Then the 1930 depression hit. He and other leaders in his stake dusted off the revelations, and tried to find a way to help the almost 70% of their stake members who were out of work. They established a Bishop's Storehouse and found ways to have those who were out of work harvest wheat that was going unharvested because the price for wheat was so low it didn't pay to harvest it. Then the Brethren called him to set up a welfare program for the entire church. Several years later he was called as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve, and at the time we were talking he was in the First Presidency. His question to me was: "Alan, do you think I could have taken thought, and prepared myself to be where I am now? The only counsel that I have ever felt comfortable giving to young people is that they get up each day and regain their testimony. And then in the light of the inspiration of the Lord, 'in the moment thereof,' that they do what the Lord asks of them. Don't live too far into the future," was his counsel. "Live for today. You don't have tomorrow; all you have is today. You don't have yesterday. All you can do is repent or feel good, depending on your yesterdays. So make your yesterdays days to feel good about by living fully for today."

After his baptism, Jorge had to forgo many social customs associated with his budding banking career. At first he was the target of teasing and jokes from co-workers who were curious to see how long he could go without a drink or a cigarette. But Jorge remained faithful to his covenants, and his critics eventually became his greatest protectors from those who tried to pressure him into disregarding the Word of Wisdom.

Perhaps you will remember the story of Corrie ten Boom, a 50-year-old spinster who became a militant heroine of the anti-Nazi underground during World War II. I would like to share with you two examples of how love worked in her life to help her do good when she had been extremely ill used.

The first time was when she was a young woman in Holland. She was very much in love and had thought her love was returned. But then one day the young man came to her door with another young woman. He wanted to introduce Corrie to his fiancée. The family rallied around to help her face this crisis. After the young couple left, Corrie fled to her bedroom, where she lay sobbing. She writes: “Later, I heard Father’s footsteps coming up the stairs. For a moment I was a little girl again waiting for him to tuck the blankets tight. But this was a hurt that no blanket could shut out, and suddenly I was afraid of what Father would say. … Of course he did not say the false, idle words.

“‘Corrie,’ he began instead, ‘do you know what hurts so very much? It’s love. Love is the strongest force in the world, and when it is blocked that means pain.

“‘There are two things we can do when this happens. We can kill the love so that it stops hurting. But then of course part of us dies, too. Or, Corrie, we can ask God to open up another route for that love to travel. … Whenever we cannot love in the old, human way, Corrie, God can give us the perfect way.’”

Spiritual strength frequently comes through selfless service. Some years ago I visited what was then called the California Mission, where I interviewed a young missionary from Georgia. I recall saying to him, “Do you send a letter home to your parents every week?”

He replied, “Yes, Brother Monson.”

Then I asked, “Do you enjoy receiving letters from home?”

He didn’t answer. At length I inquired, “When was the last time you had a letter from home?”

With a quavering voice, he responded, “I’ve never had a letter from home. Father’s just a deacon, and Mother’s not a member of the Church. They pleaded with me not to come. They said that if I left on a mission, they would not be writing to me. What shall I do, Brother Monson?”

I offered a silent prayer to my Heavenly Father: “What should I tell this young servant of Thine, who has sacrificed everything to serve Thee?” And the inspiration came. I said, “Elder, you send a letter home to your mother and father every week of your mission. Tell them what you are doing. Tell them how much you love them and then bear your testimony to them.”

He asked, “Will they then write to me?”

I responded, “Then they will write to you.”

We parted and I went on my way. Months later I was attending a stake conference in Southern California when a young missionary came up to me and said, “Brother Monson, do you remember me? I’m the missionary who had not received a letter from my mother or my father during my first nine months in the mission field. You told me, ‘Send a letter home every week, Elder, and your parents will write to you.’” Then he asked, “Do you remember that promise, Elder Monson?”

I remembered. I inquired, “Have you heard from your parents?”

He reached into his pocket and took out a sheaf of letters with an elastic band around them, took a letter from the top of the stack, and said, “Have I heard from my parents! Listen to this letter from my mother: ‘Son, we so much enjoy your letters. We’re proud of you, our missionary. Guess what? Dad has been ordained a priest. He’s preparing to baptize me. I’m meeting with the missionaries; and one year from now we want to come to California as you complete your mission, for we, with you, would like to become a forever family by entering the temple of the Lord.’” This young missionary asked, “Brother Monson, does Heavenly Father always answer prayers and fulfill Apostles’ promises?”

I replied, “When one has faith as you have demonstrated, our Heavenly Father hears such prayers and answers in His own way.”

Clean hands, a pure heart, and a willing mind had touched heaven. A blessing, heaven-sent, had answered the fervent prayer of a missionary’s humble heart.

What! Me teach that class of unmanageable teenagers? Trouble comes in bunches, I thought as I walked out of the bishop’s office.
My husband was serving a tour of duty in the military, and I had come home to be with my grandmother, who had terminal cancer. Two active preschoolers, a new baby, a ravenous old furnace that required hand-shoveled coal in subzero weather, Grandma’s failing health, and now the thought of one more responsibility were more than I could bear.
I cried all the way home. I had heard all about that Sunday School class of 16-year-olds. But the bishop told me that the bishopric had fasted and prayed about what to do and “the Lord had sent me.”
At first I was bitter. But eventually, as I prayed, I began to remember the things the Savior had done for me. I realized that the least I could do for him was teach that class. Though the idea still seemed overwhelming, my attitude changed, and I went to work. Before long, I was anxiously trying to reach the teenagers in my Sunday School class. As the months passed, I came to know and love each of them.
Still, with all the other pressures I had, Christmas that year found me in anything but a joyous mood. That Christmas Eve, I sat alone near the Christmas tree in my living room trying in vain to put together a train set for my little boy. I could see the heavy snow falling outside, and suddenly a terrible aching filled my heart. I felt alone. I thought I had been doing better, but tonight, with my husband halfway around the world, my burdens overwhelmed me. Seeing Grandma slipping away, caring for the little ones, putting up with the weather, feeding the furnace, struggling with the train—it all seemed more than I could bear. I bowed my head and tearfully cast my burdens on the Lord.
As I knelt there, I heard a knock at my door. It was late, and I wondered who on earth it could be. I opened the door to find three of my Sunday School boys standing there, covered with snow. They had been sledding and had seen my light and decided to stop in to wish me a Merry Christmas. I invited them in and filled them up with hot chocolate and pie.
Soon they had the train set together, and we finished wrapping the Christmas presents. Everything looked beautiful. Each boy hugged me, thanked me for being such a good teacher and friend, and wished me Merry Christmas before they left. I stood watching them go under the streetlights. Suddenly my burdens felt lighter, and that night I knelt to thank Heavenly Father for sending them to me.
A few weeks later Grandma worsened and had to be hospitalized. It was necessary for me to stay nights with her there, and I cherished these last hours alone with my grandma. The girls from my Sunday School class took turns staying with my children while I was at the hospital. Another girl came after school every day to cook dinner for my family so I could get some rest. The boys built a coal shed and rigged a chute so I didn’t have to carry coal anymore. They tended the old furnace and did all the heavy work. I was surrounded with love and caring from each one of those young people. I couldn’t have made it without them.
Grandma died in May, and my husband eventually returned home. It has been years since that winter when my class of “unmanageable teenagers” helped me, but I will never forget the lesson I learned. I know far better now that we can do anything the Lord asks us to do and that the blessings we receive from our service far outweigh our efforts.

Years ago we took our then-teenage daughters to the temple for the first time. My oldest daughter had then the privilege of participating in the baptism of her deceased great-grandmother. Days later we held our family home evening and invited the children to bear their testimonies about the experience in the house of the Lord. As our oldest daughter started to express her feelings, tears came down her face when she mentioned her great-grandmother’s name and tried to describe how and what she felt during the ordinance. We all realized that she was recognizing right then that a “swelling motion” moment was taking place. That strong impression has been an anchor for her testimony and conviction of the gospel.

As a boy, President Thomas S. Monson was celebrating Christmas when his friend asked a startling question, “What does turkey taste like?” He responded that it tasted like chicken, but then he realized that his unfortunate friend had never tasted either. Not only that, but there was nothing in his friend’s house with which to prepare a Christmas dinner. “I pondered a solution,” said President Monson. “I had no turkeys, no chickens, no money. Then I remembered I did have two pet rabbits. Immediately I took my friend by the hand and rushed to the rabbit hutch, placed the rabbits in a box, and handed the box to him with the comment, ‘Here, take these two rabbits. They’re good to eat—just like chicken.’ … Tears came easily to me as I closed the door to the empty rabbit hutch. But I was not sad. A warmth, a feeling of indescribable joy, filled my heart. It was a memorable Christmas.”2

This same kind of service happens every day among you, the students. I served as a bishop of a campus ward a number of years ago. I had a young man who came to campus shy, unsure of himself, and very socially challenged. I worried for him and wondered how he would be treated. As time went by, I watched him with interest and noticed that over time, he began to change, to grow in confidence, and to smile and laugh with his peers at church. One day, in an interview, I asked him what made him so happy. He responded: "Bishop, I have the very best roommates in the world! They have become my best friends. All of them have served missions, and they have treated me like a loved little brother. I never thought I could make it as a college student, but they won't let me fail!"

This young man went on to serve a mission and returned to pay forward the gift he had received from these good and valiant men, who refused to let him fail. This kind of thing happens every semester on this campus. It happens because you are trying to be disciples of Jesus Christ.

Days start early for 16-year-old Jenny Flinn, who lives in the little town of Broadway, near Ilminster in Somerset, England. There’s lots of work to be done, animals to feed, and cows to milk—at least an hour of chores, all told—before she leaves for school.
But there are also rewards.
The morning air is brisk, and Jenny breathes deeply and feels renewed. The sun is warm, more tan than yellow as it chases fog away. The fields are damp, but the dew seems to wrap each plant in crystal. The animals, already awake and eager for attention, seem happy just to be alive. Jenny wouldn’t say it out loud, but living here is like living a prayer of thanksgiving. Each day she finds herself full of gratitude. Yes, there’s work to be done. But work is life, and life is good.

Another time the dynamic duo decided to play a little joke. In nearby Provo Canyon there is a 430-foot waterfall that plunges down a sheer cliff into the Provo River. A tram climbs on a cable to a small restaurant at the top, and there is no visible way up to the restaurant except by the tram, and even that’s a scary vertical trip. Nevertheless, the lady in charge one afternoon was startled by two young men tapping her on the shoulder.
“Can we have a ride down the tram,” one asked. Her mouth hung open. They had not come up on the tram.
“Can our dog ride down too?” the other asked. Her eyes dilated. There stood George, wagging his tail benevolently and panting. No dog had ever ridden up the tram. Before the confused lady could develop any serious emotional problems, they explained that they had come in by the “back door,” a hike of 20-plus miles over rough mountain terrain. They got a free ride down the tram, and George became the first and last canine passenger.

At Church activities I would ask myself, “Why don’t I have friends?” I felt sad and alone and went to God in prayer. I asked my Heavenly Father to send me good friends. It hasn’t been easy, but over time I’ve made many great friends. I’m not afraid to talk anymore and to get involved with groups of girls. I realize that Heavenly Father answered my prayers and that I was never alone.
Daiana I., 16, Corrientes, Argentina

Thank you for the article “Eating Disorders: A Deadly State of Mind” (February 1993). I went on my first diet when I was 11 and suffered from bulimia for six years. I pray for the others out there who are headed on the same track. Please get off now before you lose more than just pounds. An eating disorder becomes a way of life, and it leaves little time for others or yourself because your energy and attention is always focused on food. I look back and see how much I missed and the people I distanced because of this self-absorbing cycle. I am now 24, and I’m learning to eat and look at food in a whole new way. Make no mistake about it, eating disorders are just as dangerous as an alcohol or drug addition.
Kristen AbtsEugene, Oregon

Shiloh W., age 18, Chihuahua, Mexico
My mother died when I was only 12 years old. At that time I was not a member of the Church. When she was sick, I prayed a lot that my mother would be well. I had much faith, and I trusted in God in the hope that her health would return. Sadly she did not recover. I questioned why she had to die at such a young age and leave me while I was still a teenager. I was angry and came to the point where I doubted that God existed. Now that I am a member of the Church, I understand the plan of salvation. I know that she is waiting for me and that our family will be reunited.

How Magrina Sam Aiten came to be endowed in the Manila Philippines Temple illustrates the distances, both physical and cultural, Micronesians often cross when coming to the Lord. While living in Chuuk (or Truk), she was visited by the missionaries. When she asked them a question about Joseph Smith, “their answer touched my heart, and I asked them to give me the discussions.”

Reading the Book of Mormon gave her a testimony of the gospel, but her testimony alienated her from her husband. He resented the missionaries’ visits. When the elders taught Magrina about fasting, she decided that her first fast would be for her husband. “I felt the Spirit, and my husband’s heart was softened.” He allowed the missionaries to continue meeting with Magrina and the children. “After one month, he joined us,” Magrina says. “In January 1986, I, my husband, and our oldest child were baptized.”

Her mother also felt unhappy about her association with the Church. “My Mom didn’t want me to join and said that if I did I wouldn’t be her daughter anymore.” In a society that values family relationships more than personal preferences, that was a difficult thing to hear. “But I told my kids to pray for Mom.” After three months, her mother came to Magrina’s home and stayed the weekend.

On Monday, the family had family home evening. “Mom was really quiet,” Magrina says. “My daughter gave the closing prayer, and after we finished, all the kids hugged her and kissed her. She had tears in her eyes, and she said, ‘Maybe this is a good way to raise your kids. They are sure different from you when you were little.’ I said that’s right; I didn’t know how to pray. But my children know how to conduct themselves.”

Not long after that, Magrina moved to Saipan, some 1,300 kilometers away. Saipan is something of a melting pot. A large island (23-by-8 kilometers) in the northern Marianas, it serves as home—and home away from home—for people from all over the Pacific and from as far away as the United States and Europe. The Japanese have made it a popular tourist destination, and Filipinos and Koreans come to work in its textile factories. Islanders from other parts of Micronesia have found it attractive as a place where the life-style is halfway between Micronesian traditional and Western contemporary.

On Saipan, Magrina met Jim and Julie Ellis, mainland Americans living on the island. Jim was her home teacher, Julie her visiting teacher. In 1992, Jim encouraged Magrina to go to the temple. She wanted to go, but by then her husband had died and she had remarried. Her nonmember husband refused to let her go. Eventually, their disagreements led them to separate.

The day before she was to fly to Manila, her husband returned. “When he walked in the door and saw my face, he knew that I hadn’t changed my mind. I loved him, but I also loved my kids and wanted the best for them.” He consented to her trip—and even agreed to stop smoking and drinking in the house.

“So I went to the temple, and Sister Ellis went with me. I really felt the Spirit. Everything touched my heart.” While there, she had the temple work done for her first husband.

The book of Proverbs praises the woman of virtue as more precious than rubies. “Strength and honour are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in time to come. …

“Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her. …

“A woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised” (Prov. 31:25, 28, 30).

In Micronesia, there are many women worthy of such praise.

Photograph courtesy of Cari Florence
When I was just 14 weeks pregnant with our third child, doctors informed us that the baby would miscarry due to complications with his lungs. That news was devastating: I felt heartbroken, terrified, and uncertain of the future. That evening, my husband and I went to the temple with heavy hearts and eyes full of tears. We needed answers, guidance, and strength, and we knew that in the serenity of the temple we could draw close to the Lord. We were astonished at the peace we felt in the celestial room. I knew that even if this baby was not supposed to stay on earth, all would be made right.
Later, on my knees I poured out my soul to Heavenly Father. I told Him I understood that our son wasn’t supposed to linger but that I desired some specific blessings, if possible. I also promised that if my desires weren’t granted, I would not lose faith. I asked that this child might stay with me longer—that he might live, even just a short while, until all our family could hold him. The doctors had said that if by some miracle our baby went full term, he would be born purple, but I prayed that he would be born pink so that our other little boys wouldn’t be afraid to hold their brother. I asked the Lord to let us remember our eternal bond after the baby, whom we decided to name Brycen, was gone.
As the weeks went on, doctors professed shock at baby Brycen’s progression but warned of his certain passing after birth. I felt indescribable heartache, knowing that we would lose him, yet I was also ecstatic that he was still growing. Carrying this son who would not live was a continuous burden; I felt pain whenever others asked about our baby’s gender or due date and I had to pretend that everything was normal. We bought a monitor so we could check his heartbeat daily, always anxious to hear that precious sound. My grief was severe. The Savior’s Atonement gained new meaning for me: I finally understood from experience that Jesus Christ not only suffered for my sins but also felt every sadness, every pain. As my Savior, He truly carried the weight with me so I would never be alone.
At 37 weeks I checked into the hospital, knowing I was officially starting the time clock on Brycen’s life. It was both terrifying and beautiful. The doctors reported that he might live anywhere from 10 minutes to several days. Despite my fears, I felt the Lord’s reassurance. Brycen Cade Florence was born on January 27, 2012. I sobbed the moment he was born—pink, so handsome, so perfect.
Our boys rushed into the room to see and hold their brother; we brought a photographer to capture the moment. Brycen lived only 72 minutes, literally just long enough for each of us to hold and love him. It was the only time we were all together as a family on this earth, but it was everything we had dreamed. The boys couldn’t get enough of their brother, kissing him, singing him songs, and begging to hold him. He even remained long enough to receive a blessing from his father, something my husband had hoped and prayed for.
As a family we have a testimony that “the divine plan of happiness enables family relationships to be perpetuated beyond the grave” and that temple ordinances and covenants allow “families to be united eternally” (“The Family: A Proclamation to the World,” Liahona, Nov. 2010, 129). To us, having an eternal family is everything. The most beautiful part of the gospel is that death will never separate us; we will continue our journeys together.
Through this trial, I have come to know that God is in the details. He cares about us individually. While trials and difficulties will come, God can make them easier to bear. I am now more grateful than ever for my temple sealing to my husband and that our children were born in the covenant. Because of God’s beautiful plan for our families, including the Savior’s infinite sacrifice, we can be together again. I often wonder how I would have withstood this difficult trial without knowing that eternal truth. I am beyond grateful for the testimony I have gained because of Brycen’s short life—God has opened my eyes and heart more fully to His blessings.

In both of those visits to the Soviet Union, we met with the chairman of the Council of Religious Affairs and learned that recognition of a church was not given on a federal basis but was granted locally. A petition was required from a minimum of twenty adult members of the Church, all Soviet citizens residing in a given political district. Also, as in many of these countries, open preaching of the gospel was not allowed because that was deemed to be an infringement on the rights of others who chose not to believe in any religion. Thus, we were left with a real dilemma. Without missionaries, how could we get a congregation of twenty members in any district? And how could we teach the gospel without first having twenty members so that we could obtain legal recognition? But remember: “With God nothing shall be impossible.” Within a few months we had a congregation of twenty and more members in Leningrad (now St. Petersburg)!

The conversion of these pioneer members of the Church is truly marvelous study in the workings of the Lord. Our branch president and his wife found the Church and were baptized on 1 July 1989 while in Budapest, Hungary. Russian-speaking home teachers from Helsinki, Finland, were assigned to visit the new converts upon their return to Leningrad. Another woman temporarily left Leningrad to find the Church in a miraculous manner. This beautiful young mother named Svetlana had importuned the Lord in prayer to make it possible for her to obtain a Bible written in the Russian language. Such a Bible is rare, precious, and very expensive. In the fall of 1989, she and her husband and their young child went to Helsinki in quest for a Bible. While walking through a park in Helsinki, she stepped upon an object hidden beneath the ground cover of autumn leaves. She picked it up and found it to be the answer to her prayers. It was a Bible written in the Russian language. So excited was she that she joyfully recounted the story of this great discovery to another mother who was also in the park with her youngster. The second mother then replied to Svetlana, “Would you like to have another book about Jesus Christ, also written in the Russian language?” Svetlana, of course, answered in the affirmative. The other mother then provided Svetlana with a Russian copy of the Book of Mormon and invited her to church. This other mother was Raija Kemppainen, wife of Jussi Kemppainen, then president of the Baltic District of the Finland Helsinki Mission. Shortly thereafter, Svetlana joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and returned with her family to Leningrad.

These early converts invited choice friends into their homes to hear news of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, and many of these gratefully responded to the message of the missionaries and were baptized.

On 26 April 1990, we met with governmental officials and subsequently submitted application papers for recognition of the Leningrad Branch. That very day, I offered a prayer of gratitude and rededication in the Summer Gardens adjacent to the Neva River, just beyond Mars Field, where Elder Francis M. Lyman of the Council of the Twelve had dedicated Russia for the preaching of the gospel on 6 August 1903.

Our request for formal recognition for our branch in Leningrad was granted on 13 September 1990. Thus, an important precedent was established that congregations in other cities would follow.