Gospel Story Finder

In a recent Sunday Relief Society meeting, I listened to a young mother share part of her journey of conversion. She had grown up in the Church, with parents who taught her the gospel. She attended Primary, Young Women, and seminary. She loved to learn and discover truths. Her constant quest was to know why. Elder Russell M. Nelson has said, “The Lord can only teach an inquiring mind.” And this young woman was teachable.

After high school she attended a university, was sealed in the temple to a returned missionary, and was blessed with beautiful children.

With the spirit of inquiry, this mother continued to ask questions. But as the questions grew harder, so did the answers. And sometimes there were no answers—or no answers that brought peace. Eventually, as she sought to find answers, more and more questions arose, and she began to question some of the very foundations of her faith.

During this confusing time, some of those around her said, “Just lean on my faith.” But she thought, “I can’t. You don’t understand; you’re not grappling with these issues.” She explained, “I was willing to extend courtesy to those without doubts if they would extend courtesy to me.” And many did.

She said, “My parents knew my heart and allowed me space. They chose to love me while I was trying to figure it out for myself.” Likewise, this young mother’s bishop often met with her and spoke of his confidence in her.

Ward members also did not hesitate to give love, and she felt included. Her ward was not a place to put on a perfect face; it was a place of nurture.

“It was interesting,” she remembers. “During this time I felt a real connection to my grandparents who had died. They were pulling for me and urging me to keep trying. I felt they were saying, ‘Focus on what you know.’”

In spite of her substantial support system, she became less active. She said, “I did not separate myself from the Church because of bad behavior, spiritual apathy, looking for an excuse not to live the commandments, or searching for an easy out. I felt I needed the answer to the question ‘What do I really believe?’”

About this time she read a book of the writings of Mother Teresa, who had shared similar feelings. In a 1953 letter, Mother Teresa wrote: “Please pray specially for me that I may not spoil His work and that Our Lord may show Himself—for there is such terrible darkness within me, as if everything was dead. It has been like this more or less from the time I started ‘the work.’ Ask Our Lord to give me courage.”

Archbishop Périer responded: “God guides you, dear Mother; you are not so much in the dark as you think. The path to be followed may not always be clear at once. Pray for light; do not decide too quickly, listen to what others have to say, consider their reasons. You will always find something to help you. … Guided by faith, by prayer, and by reason with a right intention, you have enough.”

My friend thought if Mother Teresa could live her religion without all the answers and without a feeling of clarity in all things, maybe she could too. She could take one simple step forward in faith—and then another. She could focus on the truths she did believe and let those truths fill her mind and heart.

As she reflected back, she said, “My testimony had become like a pile of ashes. It had all burned down. All that remained was Jesus Christ.” She continued, “But He does not leave you when you have questions. When anyone tries to keep the commandments, the door is wide open. Prayer and scripture study became incredibly important.”

Her first step to rebuild her faith was to start with basic gospel truths. She bought a Primary songbook and began reading the words of the songs. They were treasures to her. She prayed for faith to lift the heaviness she felt.

She learned that when she came up against a statement that caused her to doubt, she “could stop, look at the whole picture, and make the gospel personal.” She said, “I would ask, ‘Is this the right path for me and my family?’ Sometimes I would ask myself, ‘What do I want for my children?’ I realized I want them to have temple marriages. That’s when belief came back to my heart.”

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland has said, “Humility, faith, and the influence of the Holy Spirit [will] always be elements of every quest for truth.”

Though she had questions about how the Book of Mormon came to be, she could not deny the truths she knew in the Book of Mormon. She had focused on studying the New Testament to better understand the Savior. “But eventually,” she said, “I found myself back in the Book of Mormon because I loved what I felt when reading about Jesus Christ and His Atonement.”

She concluded, “You have to have your own spiritual experiences with the truths in that book,” and she was having them. She explained, “I read in Mosiah and felt completely directed: ‘Believe in God; believe that he is, and that he created all things … ; believe that he has all wisdom, and all power, both in heaven and in earth; believe that man doth not comprehend all the things which the Lord can comprehend.’”

About this time a call came to serve as Primary pianist. “It was safe,” she said. “I wanted to have my children in Primary, and now I could be with them. And I wasn’t ready to teach yet.” As she served, she continued to feel from those around her the invitation “Come; we want you, whatever stage you are at, and we will meet you there. Give us whatever you have to offer.”

Playing the Primary songs, she often thought to herself, “Here are truths I love. I can still bear testimony. I will just say those things that I know and trust. It may not be a perfect offering of knowledge, but it will be my offering. What I focus on expands inside of me. It is beautiful to get back to the essence of the gospel and feel clarity.”

On that Sunday morning, as I listened to this young sister share the story of her journey, I was reminded that “it is upon the rock of our Redeemer” that we all must build our foundation. I was also reminded of the counsel of Elder Jeffrey R. Holland: “Hold fast to what you already know and stand strong until additional knowledge comes.”

On Sacrifices to Keep the Sabbath
Sometimes we worked until midnight on Saturday to keep from breaking the Sabbath. We went to church the next day, often without much sleep. Once we came home from church, and a cow had gotten caught in the pasture fence and died. There were times when we had millions of yen worth of damage to our cut hay because it had lain in the rain on the Sabbath. We knew accidents didn’t happen because it was Sunday. If you worry about that kind of thing, you would never be able to keep the Sabbath. Accidents can happen anytime.

I close with the example of a new friend, someone we met a few weeks ago while visiting the Zambia Lusaka Mission.
Elder Joseph Ssengooba is from Uganda. His father died when he was seven. At age nine, with his mother and relatives unable to care for him, he was on his own. At age 12, he met the missionaries and was baptized.
Joseph told me of his first day at church: “After sacrament meeting, I thought it was time to go home, but the missionaries introduced me to Joshua Walusimbi. Joshua told me that he was going to be my friend, and he handed me a Children’s Songbook so I wouldn’t have to go into Primary empty-handed. In Primary, Joshua put an extra chair right next to his. The Primary president invited me to the front and asked the whole Primary to sing for me ‘I Am a Child of God.’ I felt very special.”
The branch president took Joseph to the Pierre Mungoza family, and that became his home for the next four years.
Eight years later when Elder Joseph Ssengooba began his mission, to his great surprise his trainer was Elder Joshua Walusimbi, the boy who had made him feel so welcome on his first day in Primary. And his mission president? He is President Leif Erickson, the little boy who stayed away from Primary because he was terrified about giving a talk. God loves His children.

On April 6, 1830, the day The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was formally organized, at least 30 people were in attendance. One of them was an 11-year-old boy named David Lewis. As the events of that day unfolded, David became convinced of the truthfulness of the gospel.
He approached the Prophet Joseph Smith and asked to be baptized. Joseph was happy for him but felt that it was important for him to get permission from his parents first.
Following the Prophet’s counsel, David went home to discuss his feelings with his parents. They gave him permission, and he was baptized 29 days later, on his 12th birthday.
Soon after his baptism, clouds outside darkened. Thunder and lightning cracked through the sky. Joseph suggested that David might want to stay overnight and wait out the storm. David replied that he had promised his mother that he would return that night. Joseph told David that it was important to keep the promise to his mother and that if he left right away, the Lord would protect him.
David followed the counsel of the Prophet and hurried off into the downpour. He hadn’t gone far before he became confused, and he realized that he was lost. Remembering the Prophet’s words that he would return home in safety, David knelt under a tree and prayed for the promised protection and guidance.
After the prayer, he started on his way again. He saw a faint light through the trees. It looked like a person with a lantern in the distance. Something in his heart told him to follow it.
It led him down a path through the trees.
After he followed the light for some time, it suddenly disappeared. What had happened to it? He looked around and saw that he was now in front of his own house!1

In 1982, we moved to Hemel Hempstead (Hertfordshire). The meetings were now consolidated, and I stayed for the whole three hours. I was called as the elders quorum president. An elderly missionary couple were assigned to visit my home, and for the first time Rajinder said a prayer and felt the Spirit. I subsequently baptised her. We were later sealed in the London England Temple with our children.

Illustration by Jim Madsen
At the beginning of my mission, I served in a small city in South Korea. One rainy day we had not had a lot of success but wanted to keep working until it was time to go home. My companion and I decided that we would knock on a few more doors.
At one door a woman answered, and my companion started talking to her. As a new missionary, I had a hard time understanding, but after a few minutes she began speaking to us in English. We found out that she was from Chicago, Illinois, USA, and had moved here with her family. Her husband was a preacher for a church that did not have friendly feelings toward our beliefs.
The woman was nice but eager to disprove the Book of Mormon and convince us that our church was incorrect. I stood there with my companion as he tried to answer her difficult questions. My companion tried to testify to her that the Book of Mormon is true and that it could help her, but she insisted on believing that he was incorrect.
After about 30 minutes of discussion at the door, she asked my companion, “Where will we go after this life?” I could tell she was eager to refute my companion’s teachings, as she had before. My companion testified of the plan of salvation and that we can live with our families forever in the celestial kingdom. Before he could continue, she stopped him and asked him to repeat what he had just said about families being together. He again replied with the same response. I felt the Spirit so strongly, and I could see in her eyes that something had touched her deeply too. After that short but powerful testimony, she stopped arguing with us, took a Book of Mormon, and asked us to come back to talk with her and her husband about the Book of Mormon.
I remember walking home with my companion that evening, amazed by the effect of my companion’s testimony. I understood then that a testimony accompanied by the Spirit is the most powerful teaching tool we have. I’ll never forget my companion and his testimony that night. After that experience I decided that, even with my limited ability to speak Korean, I would try to bear my testimony no matter what. As I did, I began to feel the Spirit more and more. I learned that the best communication happens when you teach by the Spirit.

Likewise, trusted family members, leaders, and friends can be helpful in our efforts to change. When I was eight years old, my older brother, Lee, and I would spend time with our friends playing in the branches of a neighborhood tree. We loved being together in the fellowship of our friends in the shade of that tree. One day, Lee fell out of the tree and broke his arm. Having a broken arm made it hard for him to climb the tree by himself. But life in the tree just wasn’t the same without him there. So some of us steadied him from behind while others pulled on his good arm, and without too much effort, Lee was back in the tree. His arm was still broken, but he was with us again enjoying our friendship as he healed.

During the pandemic, Newport Gwent ward offered a ray of light to their community by supporting three local charities and hundreds of people’s lives.
The final group it supports is the Gwent Family History Society. The group were looking for somewhere to meet, someone suggested asking the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Gwent Family History use the computers and run a zoom link from the building which is recorded and shared on their social media pages. There have been many blessings that have come to both the Newport Gwent Ward and to the charities. Bishop Hayes remarked, “In some ways it is missionary work like you have never known it.” The groups even promote the Word of Wisdom notes Bishop Hayes because “the groups have asked us what they are able to provide on the premises for their clients and we explain the Word of Wisdom to them and why we believe it is important, they then accept our belief and subconsciously they explain it to their patrons, allowing more people to become aware of our beliefs without us having to proselyte to them.” Elder Hyrum Little stated, “Watching the joyous faces of those who are selflessly giving of their time and talents, gives me a greater sense of joy through my own service and it increases my desires to magnify my own mission efforts.” Elder Samuel Jaccod commented, “Whenever service is done to anyone who is in need, the service is not just a blessing to their lives but blesses those who are helping them too. Finding true happiness in your life will come as you strive to increase the joy in the lives of those around you.” Both Elder Little and Elder Jaccod have been able to witness the blessings that have been brought to those who use the chapel, but also to the members and missionaries of the Newport Ward through the selfless, compassionate and loving service of those who have come to use the chapel.

A stake president in Logan, Utah, kept a guest book, and after he passed away that book was given to his son. When the son thumbed through the pages, he was impressed with the signatures that were there. Most of the General Authorities had signed the book. One entry he saw was:

Name: Elder Spencer W. Kimball
Date: 1954
Position or title: Apostle
Hobby: “I love people.”

He thumbed through many more pages, and then he saw an almost identical entry ten years later:

Name: Elder Spencer W. Kimball
Date: 1964
Position or title: Apostle
Hobby: “I love people.”

We all knew President Spencer W. Kimball as a man of love. He thought of love as a way to overcome even unknown offenses. Such an incident occurred with one of his neighbors who would go out and talk to President Kimball whenever he saw him in the yard. Until one day the neighbor’s wife said, “You mustn’t do that. The only time President Kimball is alone is when he is in the yard, and then you go over and impose yourself upon him.” After that the neighbor stayed in and just watched President Kimball through the window. A few weeks passed before President Kimball rang the neighbor’s doorbell and handed him a casserole. “What’s this for?” the neighbor asked. “I don’t know,” replied President Kimball. “I’ve come to make amends for whatever I’ve done to offend you. You never come and talk to me anymore, so I decided I must have done something wrong.”
It was President Kimball who so lovingly explained to us that the Lord whispers to our hearts to go and do and in this way he answers the fervent prayers of others. President Kimball said the Lord has chosen this method of answering prayers because he knows it is the way we will learn most effectively to give love.

Later in her life when I lived next to her, she suffered from a blood disease that I never knew anything about. To me, she was simply my loving grandma who read to me, invited me to tea parties, brought homemade soup to me when I was sick, taught me how to laugh at myself, and always had hot homemade brown bread coming from her oven. She never mentioned the disease, but since then I have read occasional journal entries where she mentions what a sore trial this was. Here is part of her journal:

“I am 61 and my skin has been broken out about 7 years. It came on all of a sudden. They don’t seem to know just what it is. The eruption leaves in the summer. I am writing this so if any of you children ever have the same thing, develop the philosophy I have tried to develop. ‘Things that can’t be cured must be endured.’ It has been a great trial to me, but I am sure I have been more tolerant of people and tried to be sweeter and kinder because of it.”

A year later she wrote, “I still have my skin disease after about 8 years. . . . I used to feel so peppy and now I have felt kind of sick most of the time. . . . Even so, it could be worse and I am thankful I am alive. Dad (my grandpa) has been such a darling, understanding fellow in spite of my blemishes – Bless him– I will always be grateful to him.”

Her last entry came a month before she died about 8 years later. She said, “My skin trouble has taken a turn for the worse. . . lumps have developed on my side and back. They are bad sores . . . but I am grateful to my Heavenly Father for letting me live this long. Dad has been so good, kind and sweet to me.”

When I read her journal now, knowing what I now know about her 17-year long illness, I am astonished at how few times she mentions her debilitating disease in her journals -- and never to us. Instead, she focuses on the welfare of her family and friends, and expresses joy in life. Only after her death did we learn that Grandma died from what was then a rare blood cancer manifesting itself in skin flare-ups. Only then did we glimpse what the Grandma who loved to laugh with us, to invite us for hot homemade bread, and to ask us about our “beaux,” had so graciously endured. “What cannot be cured, must be endured.” And she endured it so well!

It was in March of 1878 that Aurelia first thought seriously of an organization for children, especially so little boys could be taught “everything good and how to behave.” She wanted desperately to help them and prayed that she might be shown a way. “A fire seemed to burn within me,” she wrote in her history.
A few weeks later Sister Eliza R. Snow went to Farmington to meet with the Relief Society. She and Sister Emmeline B. Wells, who accompanied her, stopped at Aurelia’s home for a brief visit on their way to the depot to board a train back to Salt Lake. Sister Rogers discussed with them her concern over many of the boys, who she felt were not being properly taught the gospel nor the manners that would help them become good men. She asked if an organization to help them would ever be possible. We are told that Sister Snow was “silent for a few moments, then said there might be such a thing and that she would speak to the First Presidency about it.”
At that time John Taylor was president of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and the acting president of the Church, since a president had not yet been sustained by the Church membership after the death of Brigham Young. Sister Rogers talked with President Taylor who discussed the matter with other members of the Quorum of the Twelve, and they were inspired to write to Bishop John W. Hess of Farmington, asking him to call some women to be leaders. Sister Rogers was chosen to be the president. “Up to this period,” she said, “the girls had not been mentioned; but my idea was that the meeting would not be complete without them . …” And so it was agreed.
Louisa Haight and Helen M. Miller were selected as counselors of the new organization to be called “Primary,” a name suggested by Sister Eliza R. Snow. Bishop Hess urged these women to visit every home in the area to invite the children to attend and to obtain their parents’ permission. Sister Rogers reported that they enrolled 112 boys and 112 girls! The children, together with all members of the ward, were asked to attend a public meeting on Sunday, August 11, 1878, when these women, and others, were set apart by Bishop Hess and his counselors to preside over a Primary at Farmington.
Bishop Hess was most helpful, often attending Primary himself or delegating other priesthood holders to do so. In a letter written shortly after the organization of the first Primary, Sister Snow wrote encouragingly:
“I feel assured that the inspiration of heaven is directing you, and that a great and very important movement is being inaugurated for the future of Zion . … The angels and all holy beings, especially the leaders of Israel on the other side of the veil, will be deeply interested.”
Sister Rogers’ records that were so miraculously saved from the fire report that the children were called together for the very first Primary on August 25, 1878. This is how she described the Primaries that followed:
“When they [the children] came to understand the motives which prompted the calling of their little meetings, they seemed elated with what was being done for them. Obedience, faith in God, prayer, punctuality and good manners were subjects oft repeated. At these meetings, the whole association would generally take part in the exercises. The smaller children were seated on the front benches, the rest according to size. At the proper time the smallest would rise up and, perhaps, recite a verse or two in concert, then sit down and the next bench full take their turn in answering Bible questions. Another class would sing a song; another would repeat sentiments or verses, one at a time, and so on.
“… The next spring we rented a town lot and the Primary Association planted beans and popcorn to go with the Relief Society wheat in the time of famine which is to come.”

Sister Quashigah was the first member of the family to be introduced to the Church by young elders who stopped by her sewing shop and gave her a Book of Mormon. She took the book home and showed it to Brother Quashigah, who after becoming disillusioned with churches in general, expressed his lack of interest.
Esinam set the book aside, not wanting to push the matter further. She and the children had been attending a Christian church, but Vincent was not attending. He had visited many congregations over several years but was dissatisfied with the teachings and atmosphere he found there, so he made the decision to quit going to church. He was especially discouraged with the lack of scripture-supported doctrine in the sermons he heard. The Spirit was absent, and he felt nothing when he attended other churches. Esinam faithfully took the children to the church that she had chosen to attend, but she prayed for the day when the family could “get in the truck and go to church together”. She didn’t care which church it was, as long as they all went together. She decided to be patient and keep praying.
Through her temple experience, Sister Quashigah has found a new boldness in sharing the gospel with friends and family. She feels the promptings of the Spirit and hears the still, small voice testify to her of the doctrines of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She recalls that before the Church came into their lives, she would weep often because of her desire for a united family. The day after President Quashigah was baptized was one of the happiest days of her life, as they all got into the truck and went to church together.

Ryan Periga was grinning as he walked to the front of the classroom. Ryan was the president of our deacons quorum, and it was his turn to present our priesthood lesson.
“We’re going to do something a little different today,” he announced, holding out a box with a picture of Snoopy on the front. “I brought a jigsaw puzzle, and Brother Warner said we could spend a few minutes putting it together.”
He opened the box and spilled the contents out on the floor. He dropped to his knees and looked around. “Well, don’t just sit there,” he said. “Give me a hand!”
He didn’t have to ask twice. We were typical 12- and 13-year-old boys, and we were always anxious for something to do. Even if it meant working on a child’s jigsaw puzzle.
“Find all the edges first,” one jigsaw expert suggested as he sorted through the pieces.
“And the corners,” another deacon advised.
“Look, here’s part of his nose.”
“Yeah, and here’s a piece of his tail. Put it over there.”
According to the box, the puzzle was designed for three- and four-year-old children. It only contained about 30 large pieces, so it wasn’t long before we had the whole thing finished. The only problem was that one large piece was missing, right in the middle.
“Way to go, Ryan,” someone protested. “You brought a defective puzzle!”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Ryan said, eyeing the finished product. “It doesn’t look that bad.”
“What are you talking about?” someone asked. “It looks dumb.”
“Why?”
“ ’Cause it’s not all there!”
Ryan tried to look surprised. “Is that important?”
“Of course, it’s important! You can’t have a puzzle without all the pieces.”
Ryan grinned slyly: he had us right where he wanted us. He pointed toward the one empty chair in the room. “You might have noticed that Kevin hasn’t been to priesthood meeting for a while. So in a way, we’re just like this puzzle. We’re not complete. Without Kevin we’re not a whole quorum.”
Ryan had made his point. He’d taught his lesson so well that each of us understood it perfectly. And we spent the next several minutes discussing ways to bring Kevin back into the quorum.
You’ve probably had lessons on things like quorum unity before. So have I. But I’ve never seen anyone make the point quite as well as Ryan did. He focused our attention on the problem in a way that we all understood its significance.
Ryan’s lesson was effective because he didn’t just talk about quorums. He talked about our quorum. He didn’t simply talk about activating people. He talked about helping Kevin. Quorum unity was suddenly something each of us could relate to.
Ryan’s lesson is a good example. While we were busy working on the puzzle, we had no idea there was a point to what we were doing. But we were all involved; everyone was participating. And when the time came for Ryan to make his point we were more receptive to it.

Solomon Massaquoi’s journey of gratitude began at the Gathering Place, where he discovered a world of opportunities! He took a few different classes, including Plumbing Basics at the Kakata Liberia District stake center. Learning about different materials, fittings, and pipe connections opened the door to his future. Armed with newfound skills, he secured a paid contract with a small company, helping him earn his mission commitment money and meet his goal to serve the Lord! Solomon received his mission call to the Nigeria Calabar Mission while on a YSA temple trip, marking the start of his next adventure!

Thirteen years ago this month, my wife Kristy's little brother Derrick was tragically killed in an ATV accident one Saturday morning when he was with his friends. He was a BYU-Idaho student who had just returned home from his mission. His sudden passing was a great trial that was unexpectedly thrust upon my wife, her parents, and the rest of the family. This was a difficult experience; it wasn't easy to process the tragedy. It would have been very easy, and even understandable, for his family members to ask why, to blame, to become bitter or angry, and to lose faith. They could have chosen to take that path-but they didn't.

Never once have I heard Kristy, her parents, or anyone else in the family question, complain, or express bitterness about what happened.

Instead, they chose to accept what happened and to move forward with faith, not letting that difficult experience become a stumbling block for them. It was tough. It hurt then, and it still does today, but they chose the better path—the path of having faith in a loving Heavenly Father, in His plan, in the covenants they have made, and in the knowledge that they will see Derrick again. They provided support to each other, and they received support from the scriptures, the words of the prophets, the Atonement of Christ, their friends and family members, and keeping their covenants.

Eight-year-old Friederike Baumann brings a lot of happiness and sunshine into the lives of her family. She is a very outgoing girl who loves to tell jokes, laugh, and have fun with her four sisters—Juliana (13), Natalie (12), Katharina (10), Charlotte (3)—her brother, Paul (6), and her parents, Beate and Frank. Her mother knows that Friederike will also be a shining influence on her soon-to-be-born sister, Henriette.
The Church is an important part of Friederike’s life. Her family travels by car about 30 minutes to attend the Reinickendorf Ward (Berlin Stake). She always enjoys seeing her friends and attending Sister Fischer’s Primary class. “We’ll Bring the World His Truth” (about Helaman’s army) and “I’m Trying to Be like Jesus” are her favorite Primary songs.
Each Sunday she looks forward to participating in the Sharing Time activities. Father teaches the seven-year-old class in Primary and is also the financial clerk.
Mother has been a Primary president and an institute teacher; she will receive a new calling after she has the baby.
At 6:45 A.M. Friederike and her sisters and brother are out of bed, eagerly waiting to read the scriptures with their parents. Whenever they read the Book of Mormon, she is especially pleased. Her family knows this custom is a very peaceful way to start the day.
Another tradition she and her siblings eagerly participate in is family home evening. If Mother or Father ever forget about it, the children remind them and insist on having it. They know they can always gather around the piano and sing songs from the Children’s Songbook. Everyone takes turns doing different assignments. Putting on the armor of God and preparing for a mission are two lessons Friederike particularly enjoyed.
Refreshments are a great part of the evening, especially when Father makes floats with his wonderful homemade root beer. Because root beer is not available in Berlin, he has created his own secret recipe.
Swimming in the backyard pool and taking bike rides into the forest for a picnic are two more family activities Friederike enjoys. She also likes to ride her bike to visit Grandma or her cousin Ariane. She has a good time playing dolls with Charlotte and jumping off the playhouse roof with Paul. Connections is a board game that she likes to play with her father because she can beat him! A game of Monopoly with the whole family is fun too. Her family does not watch regular television, but they do watch parent-approved videos.
Although Friederike loves being with her family, sometimes she wants to be by herself. Sitting on the playhouse roof, thinking and looking at the beautiful world around her can be very comforting. And finding a private place in the house where she can get really comfortable and read a book is quite delightful. She is an avid reader whose favorite books are by Astrid Lindgren, especially the ones about Pippi Longstocking. She likes a good fairy tale too.
Listening to music can be very relaxing or very stimulating for her. Whenever The Magic Flute by Mozart is playing, she loves to sing along with it.
An important event happened on Friederike’s eighth birthday. She was baptized a member of the Church! She appreciated the musical number that her family performed at her baptism, and the covenants she made then with Heavenly Father are very important to her. In fact, the first thing she said after her baptism was, “In four years I can go to the temple and be baptized for the dead.”
Music school and regular school keep the Baumann household very busy.
Scheduling who goes where at what time, homework, and practicing is a juggling act for Mother. She has found a way to encourage the children to practice, and it has paid off because they are doing well.
Friederike has taken ballet, recorder, and violin lessons. At the present time she is taking piano lessons. Juliana and Katharina play both the violin and the piano. Natalie plays the cello and the piano. Paul has just started taking cello lessons. The family enjoys singing and playing their instruments for their ward, for people in hospitals, and for any others who ask them to. To their parents’ surprise, the children want to dress like angels and perform in shopping centers at Christmastime to earn money for a vacation to the United States!
When Friederike started school, she didn’t like it and wanted to stay home! However, before first grade was over, her parents and her teacher decided that school was too easy for her. They promoted her to the second grade, in which Friederike found the challenge she needed. Now she is in the fourth grade and doing well. Her teacher said that even though this sweet child is two years younger than most of the children, she adds a great deal of sunshine and enthusiasm to the class.
She likes to ride her bike to school, jump on the school trampoline, and attend religion class. Her religion teacher is glad Friederike chose to sign up, because she is one of the few children who knows about Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, and prayer. Friederike knows that the gospel of Jesus Christ is an important part of her life, and she is very willing and happy to share it with others.

Joseph must have recalled some of the dangers through which he had passed—like the winter night when a mob broke into his home and with curses and profanity tore him from the bedside of his wife and sick children and carried him outside, strangling him until he was unconscious. When he regained consciousness, they stripped him of his clothing and covered his naked body from head to foot with a coat of tar and feathers, forcing open his mouth to fill it with the same substance, then left him on the frozen ground to die of cold and exposure.

Riding to Carthage, he might have recalled the time in Missouri when he and some of his brethren had been betrayed into the hands of their enemies. The leader of the mob convened a court; Joseph and his associates were placed on trial for their lives. They were convicted and all sentenced to be shot the next morning at eight o’clock in the public square in Far West. A dispute among the mob saved them.

They were taken from place to place and exhibited to jeering crowds, while the Saints were told they would never see their leaders again. But Joseph cheered his fellow prisoners by announcing that none of them would suffer death.

“Be of good cheer, brethren,” he said; “the word of the Lord came to me last night that our lives should be given us. … Not one of our lives should be taken” (quoted in Autobiography of Parley P. Pratt, 164; emphasis in original).

As Joseph contemplated those dreary months of imprisonment in Missouri, he must have recalled the night when, confined in a dungeon, he rebuked the guards. He and his brethren were trying to get a little sleep but were kept awake by the awful blasphemies and obscene jests of their jailers, who were recounting the dreadful deeds of robbery and murder they had committed among the Mormons. These were no idle boasts, for these awful atrocities had actually been committed. Suddenly, Joseph rose to his feet and, in a voice that seemed to shake the very building, cried out: “SILENCE, ye fiends of the infernal pit! In the name of Jesus Christ I rebuke you, and command you to be still; I will not live another minute and bear such language. Cease such talk, or you or I die THIS INSTANT!” (quoted in Autobiography of Parley P. Pratt, 180; emphasis in original).

The effect must have been electric in its suddenness. Some begged his pardon, while others slunk into the dark corners of the jail to hide their shame.

The power of Jesus Christ, whose name he had invoked in his rebuke, was upon him. His hands and feet were in chains, but these the guards did not see. They saw only the righteous anger in his shining face and felt the divine power in his voice as he rebuked them.

But if Joseph’s voice was terrible as the roaring lion in his rebuke of the wicked, it was soothing as a mother’s voice in comfort to the righteous. In that same name and by the same authority with which he silenced the blasphemies of the guards, he had blessed little children, baptized repentant sinners, conferred the Holy Ghost, healed the sick, and spoken words of comfort and consolation to thousands.

It was midnight when the journey from Nauvoo ended. Joseph and his brethren entered Carthage, and his fate was sealed. His enemies had awaited their coming with great anxiety. The governor, who was present, persuaded the mob to disperse that night by promising them that they should have full satisfaction.

The next day, after a hearing, Joseph was released on bail but rearrested on a trumped-up charge of treason. Bail was refused, and Joseph and Hyrum were placed in Carthage Jail.

The last night of Joseph’s life on earth he bore a powerful testimony to the guards and others who assembled at the door of the jail of the divinity of the Book of Mormon, also declaring that the gospel had been restored and the kingdom of God established on the earth. It was for this reason that he was incarcerated in prison, not for violating any law of God or man.

It was late at night when the prisoners tried to get some rest. At first Joseph and Hyrum occupied the only bed in the jail room, but a gunshot during the night and a disturbance led Joseph’s friends to insist that he take a place between the two of them on the floor. They would protect him with their own bodies. Joseph asked John S. Fullmer to use his arm for a pillow while they conversed; then he turned to Dan Jones, on the other side, and whispered, “Are you afraid to die?” And this staunch friend answered, “Has that time come, think you? Engaged in such a cause I do not think that death would have many terrors.”

Joseph replied, “You will yet see Wales, and fulfill the mission appointed you before you die” (History of the Church, 6:601).

The next day, the fateful 27th of June 1844, all but two of Joseph’s friends were made to leave the prison, so that now only four brethren remained—Joseph and Hyrum and two of the Apostles, both of whom during the day offered to die for him. The day was spent in writing letters to their wives, conversing on principles of the gospel, and singing. Between three and four o’clock in the afternoon the Prophet requested Elder John Taylor to sing the words of “A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief.”

This comforting song breathes in every line the very spirit and message of Christ. Only a person who loved his Savior and his fellowmen would have requested to hear these words at such a time.

When Elder Taylor had finished the song, the Prophet’s eyes were wet with tears, and he said, “Sing that song again, will you, John?” (quoted in Claire Noall, Intimate Disciple: A Portrait of Willard Richards, Apostle to Joseph Smith—Cousin of Brigham Young [1957], 440).

John “replied that he did not feel like singing. He was oppressed with a sense of coming disaster” (George Q. Cannon, Life of Joseph Smith the Prophet [1986], 524).

“You’ll feel better once you begin, and so will I,” replied Joseph (quoted in Noall, Intimate Disciple, 440).

Hyrum also pleaded with him to repeat the song. And Elder Taylor did.

This time his voice was even sadder and more tender than at first, and when he concluded, all were hushed, but four hearts beat faster, for they had carefully listened to the fateful words:

My friendship’s utmost zeal to try,
He asked if I for him would die.
The flesh was weak; my blood ran chill,
But my free spirit cried, “I will!”
(Hymns, number 29)

The other three heard Joseph murmur as an echo to the song, “I will!”

The love of Christ was in the song; the love of man was there in that room in the Carthage Jail.

While this spirit of love and service for men expressed in song and prayer filled the hearts of all within the jail, the mob was gathering. The final details you know.

When the news of the awful crime reached Nauvoo, the citizens were overcome with grief and horror. Such sorrow had not been known in Nauvoo before. The warm summer sun left them cold and chill. Their prophet and their patriarch were dead. What else mattered?

When the wagons carrying the bodies were still a long way off, the entire population of Nauvoo went out to meet them. No greater tribute could be paid than was paid that day to Joseph and Hyrum Smith. Such universal love from those who knew them best could never have been won by selfish and designing men. Only love begets love. Once when Joseph had been asked how he had acquired so many followers and retained them, he replied, “It is because I possess the principle of love. All I can offer the world is a good heart and a good hand” (History of the Church, 5:498).

Sariah Workman, an early immigrant, wrote, “I always felt a divine influence whenever I was in his presence” (in “Joseph Smith, the Prophet,” Young Woman’s Journal, December 1906, 542).

John Taylor, who was wounded at Carthage and later became prophet, said of him: “Joseph Smith, the Prophet and Seer of the Lord, has done more, save Jesus only, for the salvation of men in this world, than any other man that ever lived in it. In the short space of twenty years, he has brought forth the Book of Mormon, which he translated by the gift and power of God, and has been the means of publishing it on two continents; has sent the fulness of the everlasting gospel, which it contained, to the four quarters of the earth; has brought forth the revelations and commandments which compose this book of Doctrine and Covenants, and many other wise documents and instructions for the benefit of the children of men; gathered many thousands of the Latter-day Saints, founded a great city, and left a fame and name that cannot be slain. He lived great, and he died great in the eyes of God and his people; and like most of the Lord’s anointed in ancient times, has sealed his mission and his works with his own blood” (D&C 135:3).

As time went by, however, we found that we missed Utah—especially the people. We checked the phone book to see if there were any Mormon churches in the area. The closest one listed was 64 kilometers north. We decided we would do without; we didn’t want the Church as much as we did the companionship of the people who made it up.
After one particularly tiring day, I returned from work early to find my wife busy in the kitchen.
“We had some visitors today,” she smiled.
“Really. Who? Salesmen?”
“Yes … a kind of salesmen.
“Who?”
“Two Mormon missionaries.”
“You’re teasing!”
“No. They left a pamphlet. See for yourself. It’s got a telephone number in it.”
“I’m going to call them. I bet that will shock them!”
She laughed. “I called them and invited them over. They told me the branch met in town over at the Odd Fellows Hall. I thought I had misunderstood, but thanked them and hung up.”
The two young men who came to see us offered us six easy lessons over a period of six weeks. Why not listen? We thought to ourselves. It was a small price to pay for the companionship of Mormons. Besides, I had had discussions with some very knowledgeable people.
That Sunday we arose early. In good spirits we turned our efforts to the task of getting four children ready. But we misjudged the time.
“We’re late,” said my wife, as we drove into the parking lot of the Odd Fellows Hall.
“Perhaps,” I said, “it would be better if we waited. We don’t even know which way the congregation is facing. It could be pretty embarrassing to go in and find that they’re all facing us.”
The dilemma was resolved, however, when a pleasant-looking gentleman got out of one of the parked cars and introduced himself as the branch president. Knowing that we might arrive late, he had decided to wait for us.
The children were taken to their particular classes, while we were introduced to the investigators’ class. Our instructor was obviously a learned man and knew his material well. Finding people of his intellect belonging to a church and staunchly professing a belief in God forced me to reassess my own reasoning.
We had a good time that day. Attending church made us feel much closer as a family. And we felt something magnificent, challenging, and rewarding in the simple humility of this branch.

Jenny jumped out of bed to the good smells of breakfast cooking. Mother must be feeling much better, she thought as she bounced down the stairs.
The January winds had carved a snowbank near the window, and as Jenny looked out, the lacy patterns of snowflakes appeared in the light of the kitchen. Mother greeted her with a cheery smile, and Jenny’s rosy-cheeked little brother sat in his high chair, demanding his cereal. Everything is back to normal, thought Jenny contentedly.
It had been a difficult December for the family. First, Jenny was down with the flu, then her little brother Clark, then Daddy, then the baby. Mother cared for all of them until one day she, too, was sick. Daddy took over, but he wasn’t feeling his best yet, either. So the holidays were almost forgotten. On Christmas Day there were some gifts from Santa and relatives, but the usual family gatherings and church parties passed while the family tried to get well.
Now the holidays were over, and today was the first day back to school after vacation. Jenny was eager to see her friends and teacher again.
As Clark came down the stairs, rubbing sleep from his eyes, Mother grew thoughtful. The happy expression on her face gradually changed, and she appeared sad. “What’s the matter, Mother?” asked Jenny as she ate her warm oatmeal with honey.
“Oh, I’m grateful that we’re all better now, that Daddy has returned to his job, and that you can go back to school, but I feel sad that the holidays passed us by.”
“You mean because we didn’t get a lot of presents this year?” asked Jenny.
“Not that, sweetheart,” Mother said. “I mean we didn’t give a lot of presents. Oh, we remembered our family, but we missed our special visits to our good neighbors—dear Sister Ruth, Mrs. Perkins, and Brother Billings down the road. I hope they had a nice holiday.”
Just then Jenny saw the school bus rounding the curve in the road. She quickly gathered her things, and ran to the door. “ ’Bye, Mother. I love you,” she yelled as she started for the bus, her boots making deep tracks in the snow.
At school Jenny kept busy at her assignments. Her teacher’s happy face reminded her of Mother, and Jenny remembered what Mother had said about the holidays passing them by. She kept thinking about it, even when she was playing with her friends at recess.
On the long ride home in the school bus, while Jenny gazed at rolling mounds of white that covered the farm and fields, Mother’s words were still on her mind. Then she thought, Why do we give Christmas gifts just in December? We could have our own Christmas in January! She was so excited at the idea that she could hardly wait to get home.
As she ran up the lane, Jenny could see Mother outside sweeping snow off their front steps. “Merry Christmas, Mother!” Jenny cried as she ran to greet her.
“What do you mean?” laughed Mother.
“I have the answer, Mother. We don’t have to miss the holidays, after all. We can have Christmas in January.”
Mother’s face brightened. Jenny could tell that she liked the idea.
When they went inside, Jenny smelled hot bread just out of the oven. As Mother gave her a big slice, Jenny said, “We could take something like this to give to Sister Ruth, Mrs. Perkins, and Brother Billings, just to show them we love them. You always say that we should keep Christmas in our hearts all year round.”
“You’re right,” said Mother, “but not just bread.” Her eyes twinkled as she went to the freezer and brought back a can of frozen orange juice.
Jenny was surprised. “We’re going to give them bread and orange juice?”
“Not orange juice,” Mother said. “Orange-Juice Jelly. At least, that’s its name. But we can call it January Jelly, OK?”
“OK!”
With Mother directing, Jenny added two cups of water to one box of pectin and stirred it in a pan. Mother put it on the stove, and when it had boiled for one minute, she added three and a half cups of sugar. She helped Jenny add three-fourth cup of frozen orange juice concentrate, and they let it simmer for two minutes.
In no time at all they were pouring the golden liquid into jars. As the sealing wax hardened, mother cut a piece of red ribbon to wrap around the top of each jar.
When Daddy came home, they bundled the boys up, stacked their gifts on the family sled, and started out.
As the family walked along with Daddy carrying the baby and Jenny pulling the sled, Mother began singing softly, “Oh, Come, All Ye Faithful.” Jenny felt as if she would burst with joy. She knew that Mrs. Perkins, Brother Billings, and Sister Ruth would be happy to see them and would love the bread and January Jelly, and she couldn’t wait to surprise them.

Later on I became a student in college, and I found that some of the things I believed in and felt I knew to be true were regarded as ridiculous and immature by some of my professors. They believed in things totally foreign to the beliefs I had been taught from my earliest childhood. They ridiculed my belief in God as simply superstitious nonsense. They made fun of the Book of Mormon. They laughed at the concept of Joseph Smith being a prophet. They refused to believe the Bible was anything more than literature. I felt crushed.
To me these were learned men. They held doctor’s degrees from great universities. They were well-read. They seemed to have answers and proofs for everything they taught. I was merely a student, and they were professors with years of schooling, research knowledge, and experience. To say that I was impressed is perhaps an understatement. My faith and my beliefs were shaken, and I teetered on the edge of an abyss of indecision. What should I accept as truth? Should I accept the teachings of these learned men, or should I retain my belief in what I had been taught by my parents, my Sunday School, Primary, religion class, and priesthood teachers and had learned through my own experiences?
Those teachers who would have led me to reject God and my religious ideals were not always happy men. Some were disillusioned and some were bitter. Fortunately I made my decision to stand for what I felt was truth. To one professor who was particularly sarcastic toward my religious concepts I simply stated, “Doctor, I refuse to believe you! I will answer your examination questions the way you want me to, but I want you to know that unlearned as I am, one thing I do know is that God lives. I believe in him with all my heart. I will listen to your teachings, but I refuse to change my beliefs or my faith.” He just looked at me and shook his head. But I had been a missionary and could not deny those things I felt deep within my heart to be true. I could not prove them to him, but I believed them and they gave me both hope and comfort.