Gospel Story Finder

Some five and a half years ago, my wife, Christina, began to experience some unusual physical symptoms. She wasn’t sick, but something wasn’t right. It did not seem, at the time, to be serious. Doctors began some tests. I can still clearly remember receiving a message that our physician wished to meet with both of us at eight o’clock that night in his office. I didn’t know doctors made appointments for eight o’clock at night. Since I was supposed to be somewhere else at that time, I inquired if we might postpone the appointment until the next day. “No,” the answer came back, we needed to meet that night. Confused and somewhat apprehensive, we kept the appointment. The doctor explained that tests showed Christina had cancer in multiple places in her body. The outlook for a cure was not promising.

Now, as have many of you, we have friends or relatives who have faced this threat. And we have tried to do what we could to help make that burden somewhat lighter. But I did not understand even the beginnings of what they went through until this happened to Christina.

That night we met with our children. We felt we should be honest with them. One daughter was so overwhelmed she ran out of the house and down the street and collapsed into the arms of a startled but compassionate neighbor.

I felt I should give Christina a blessing. We discussed with our children beforehand that receiving a blessing does not always mean the person will be healed. The result of the blessing was peace. We did not know what the outcome would be, but we felt great peace.

Christina was the only one, I believe, who slept soundly that night. With great faith she accepted the will of Heavenly Father in this matter—regardless of the outcome. Some weeks later, exploratory surgery revealed Christina did not have cancer, although she did have a serious but manageable illness. Everyone was relieved—everyone but Christina, who said she felt a deep sense of gratitude at being given more time on earth. Relief was not the emotion she felt, for, either way, she fully trusted her Heavenly Father.

I had only lived in Tokyo, Japan, a little while. It takes an hour for me to get home from school on the bus. One day a friend said that if we got off at the first bus stop, he knew the way to my house and would guide me home. I believed him. So I got off the bus at the first stop, thinking that he would get off, too. But he tricked me. He didn’t get off, and I was alone.
I tried to remember the way to my house. I started to walk, but I came to a fork in the road, and I didn’t know which way to go. I felt very bad and scared. I said a prayer. I told Heavenly Father that I had made a mistake, and I asked Him to help me get home. I felt better, and He helped me choose the right way to go. I got home safely and was grateful that He helped me. I learned that He really listens to our prayers and helps us solve problems.
Ian Robert Evans, age 7Tokyo, Japan

Although most of the Saints had left Nauvoo by summer, some remained because of poverty or sickness. This made anti-Mormons very angry. On 10 September 1846, about 800 men with six cannons began to fire on the Saints still in Nauvoo. The attack continued for several days until an agreement was reached that every Mormon would leave except five men and their families, who would stay to sell the remaining property.
Five or six hundred of these remaining Saints crossed the Mississippi and camped on the riverbank in Iowa. They had only blankets and brush bowers for shelter. None of them had food for more than a few days, and many were very sick.
On 9 October, a miracle occurred. Flocks of quail flew into their camps, landing on the ground and even on the tables. The hungry Saints were able to catch the birds. The meat saved many people from starvation and stirred their hearts as they realized that the Lord was caring for them.
Their fellow Saints had not forgotten them, either. Many came back from the Missouri River to help. Others went into neighboring cities to seek money to aid the poor and sick. In the end, the refugees were rescued and divided among the various camps in Iowa, a few even reaching Winter Quarters.

When Church leaders told Jirí in 1988 that renewed effort on his part could change the government’s decision to grant the Church official recognition, he did not hesitate. Although he was putting at risk his family’s safety, his job, his freedom—possibly even his life—he said, “I will go! I will do it!” Embracing his wife, he said, “We will do whatever is needed. This is for the Lord, and his work is more important than our freedom or life.”

After Brother Snederfler submitted that request, the suspicion and persecution he and other Church members had endured for so long became even more severe. However, “the Saints continued in courage and faith,” says Elder Russell M. Nelson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, who, accompanied by Elder Hans B. Ringger of the Seventy, had made repeated requests over several years for formal recognition. Elder Nelson adds, “Ultimately, after periodic fasting and prayer and complete compliance with all requirements, that glorious announcement of recognition came. How I admire the Snederflers and all these stalwart members who endured so much interrogation and risk!” (Tambuli, May 1992, 14–15).

Over the next few years, Jirí renewed efforts to gain official recognition for the Church. And all active Church members in Czechoslovakia contributed their faith, fasting, and prayers. For two years, the Czechoslovak Saints had two monthly fast Sundays: they fasted on the first Sunday of each month, along with Church members worldwide—and they also fasted on the third Sunday of every month for freedom of religion.

During a visit with the Communist government’s secretariat of religious affairs in 1987, Elder Russell M. Nelson was informed that the official leader of the Church in Czechoslovakia—the Church’s official liaison with the government had to be a Czech citizen. Elder Nelson and Elder Hans B. Ringger called Jirí Snederfler to be that Czech leader.

Of course, Jirí was more than willing to accept the assignment; he had already made countless petitions to the government over the years and had been regarded as a troublemaker and an enemy of the state. Now, by the secretariat’s own decree, he—a Czech citizen—would officially represent the Church in the eyes of the Communist government.

When accompanied by Elder Nelson and Elder Ringger, Jirí was received kindly. But when he was invited to come alone to a meeting in December 1988, “the officials of the secretariat showed their true faces,” he says. “They tried to intimidate me into withdrawing the Church’s petition for official recognition. They even used threats, telling me what might happen to the Church members if we continued to pursue it.”

At that moment, Brother Snederfler fearlessly opened his mouth and expressed his outrage at the way the Church had been treated during the preceding four decades. “I lost my patience and told them they had only two alternatives in order to get rid of us: either grant us official recognition and permission to worship publicly—or eliminate, lock up, or kick all of us out. I knew I could have landed straight in jail for saying that! But surprisingly they started to treat me with courtesy. Perhaps they were afraid the Church would publish in the free world how the Communist regime in Czechoslovakia was illegally oppressing religiously inclined citizens. Be it as it may, I know I was under the protection of God.”

For the next year, Jirí found himself near the top of the secret police’s list of people dangerous to the state. “I had grown used to that for the past 40 years anyway,” he says. But although he was interrogated monthly by the secret police, he now also dealt monthly with the secretariat for religious affairs. He used those frequent opportunities “to let them get used to the idea that we would not withdraw our cause.” On 17 May 1989, he submitted a renewed official request for recognition. When he received no reply, he wrote letters of complaint and began making weekly visits to the secretariat.

Then came that remarkable day of 17 November 1989—the beginning of the nationwide “velvet revolution” against the Communist regime in Czechoslovakia. “That was a signal to us to intensify even more the pressure regarding our petition. The secretariat for religious affairs referred me to the ministry of culture, who referred me to the state department, who claimed not to be able to do anything without a decision of the cabinet. There was chaos. Nobody knew anything; nobody was responsible for anything. Then the secret police ceased to exist, the secretariat for religious affairs was eliminated, and the power of the Communists was broken.”

In January 1990, Brother Snederfler submitted the Church’s petition to the new administration’s minister of culture, who was overseeing the registration of churches and religious societies. After hearing Jirí’s account and reading the documents, the minister of culture “immediately wrote a petition recommending that the government grant the Church official recognition and permission for public activity as soon as possible. He wrote that the new government had a moral duty to rectify the injustice done to our Church by the Communist regime, which had ‘illegally and criminally abolished the activity thereof.’”

On 6 February 1990, Elder Russell M. Nelson, Elder Hans B. Ringger, and Brother Snederfler met with the vice chairman of the new government; that afternoon they retraced Elder John A. Widtsoe’s steps up Priests Hill near Karlstejn Castle, and Elder Nelson reaffirmed the dedication of Czechoslovakia for the preaching of the restored gospel.

On 21 February 1990, the new administration passed a resolution granting the Church’s request, effective 1 March 1990. The news was broadcast nationwide in newspapers and on radio and television. “Finally, 40 long years of struggle for official recognition and public activity in Czechoslovakia had come to an end!” says Brother Snederfler.

When I got older I had other fears. I used to fear that the girls wouldn’t like me. Maybe because they didn’t. I wasn’t popular with the girls back when I was a teenager. I used to wonder what I could do to be popular with the girls and I decided to ask some people for advice. When I was a teenager, I had two evil stepbrothers. And I decided to ask them for advice about girls. And they gave me advice. But after I got their advice, I could tell that their advice maybe wasn’t the best. That’s true, I had two evil stepbrothers. They shaped up later on in life. They were a lot older than I was. They used to make me do all the chores around the house. One time I remember there was this special dance and they wouldn’t let me go.

Well, after the failed attempt to get advice from my evil stepbrothers I asked another one of my relatives for advice about girls. And this nice person, hoping to make me feel better, said, "If a girl likes you, she ignores you." Now, I’m not sure that is right. If that was the case, then 100% of the girls in my high school must have been crazy about me.

What I did is I eventually met this girl who very soon became my best friend. I married my best friend. My wife and I met as she almost ran me over with her car. The first time she stared into my eyes she saw a look of abject horror. You know, the disturbing thing about the whole episode was that I was on the sidewalk at the time. I have often wondered why that occurred. I have several theories as to why that happened. My first theory is a scientific theory that says that when you are driving, if you see something you find attractive, you steer toward it. That is my first theory as to why she almost ran me over. My second theory is a psychological theory. Psychologists talk a lot about the subconscious mind, you see, and I believe that as she was driving by me she thought subconsciously, "If I can’t have that man, no other woman will." That’s my second theory as to why she almost ran me over.

So you see, I should not have worried so much. The Lord might have sent this girl to almost run over me knowing that I would marry her. We are always fearful about things that probably should not preoccupy us very much. We should never let these fears make our life miserable.

What you do when you want to sponsor a Heritage Festival of the Arts in your area is have an Al Klann, a student working toward his degree in architecture, as a member of your institute of religion. This is how Arizona State students at Tempe turned their institute into a gallery. Al and a crew of volunteers cut 400 uprights, drilled 3200 holes, stained boards, planted planters, and then helped the contributors hang their artwork. The preparing was an all-night affair, but the success of the event was well worth it.
Contributing artists were enthusiastic about the crowd, the facility, and the spirit of the event. “It’s the most ambitious undertaking of its kind ever held outside of the center of the Church. Very rewarding,” said sculptor Dennis Smith.
James Christensen expressed surprise at finding such a “professionally organized and constructed gallery setting.” Gary Smith said, “I felt a warm spirit and intention here.” Dr. Clinton Larson, who read poetry in a special writers’ seminar, felt that this and similar shows could serve to “convert people to the gospel by translating spirituality into art.”
The committee agreed that, as D. H. Lawrence once wrote, new experience is the most painful of human activities; yet it is the most worthwhile because it insists on growth. “We grew,” said one member of the committee, “and we feel sure the festival will too.” No reason why not. It was quite popular with Latter-day Saints in the community—as well as many non-Mormons who are interested in the arts.—Deborah Egerer.

The first time we took our three-year-old daughter to Temple Square in Salt Lake City, Utah, she showed me what it means to come unto Christ. As we were going up the ramp in the North Visitors’ Center, she looked up and saw the statue of Jesus. She let go of my hand, looked into my face, and with an expression of unutterable love and eagerness said, “Oh, Daddy! It’s Jesus!” She then ran as fast as she could to meet him.

I would guess that many of you were baptized into the Church when you turned eight years of age. I was. As I read the scripture and contemplate the kind of decision I made, I conclude that I really did not make much of a decision on that day. My mother and father, to whom I am grateful, felt that I should be baptized. I can remember my interview with the bishop when I was eight, and I can remember the coaching from my mother before the interview. I remember her telling me, “Now, the bishop is going to ask you why you want to be baptized.” I listened to her with great interest to hear what answer I should give the bishop. She also told me that I would be asked about receiving the Holy Ghost and being confirmed. She taught me why that was important. I went to my interview and passed it with flying colors for an eight-year-old; all of the questions were exactly as my mother had said they would be, and I gave all the right answers. But I really did not make much of a decision.

In 1980, I was a fourteen year-old kid living in Moses Lake, Washington. May 18th of that year was a Sunday. At about 10:00 that Sunday morning, my dad noticed an enormous bank of very strange clouds approaching from the west. Soon the whole family was in the front yard, taking pictures and describing to one another those very unusual clouds. Oddly, the clouds kept moving, but it didn’t start raining.
It didn’t rain because those clouds were not what they appeared to be. A phone call from a neighbor informed us that 150 miles to the west, Mount Saint Helens had erupted. We were looking at a volcanic ash cloud. As those now ominous clouds approached the eastern horizon, it became increasingly and dramatically dark. Although it was not yet noon, there was soon only a thin line of daylight left in the east. When the falling ash blocked out all the light of the sun and even the lights of the closest houses, a pleasant spring morning became sudden, unnatural night.

Let me take you back to my hometown. When we left Moses Lake a few minutes ago, an ash cloud had turned a spring morning into frightening darkness. Throughout a very long night, volcanic ash fell from the sky. We awoke to a hazy, completely grey world in which everything was smothered in several inches of pulverized stone. The cloud was gone, but months of work to remove the ash from lawns, roofs, and roads lay ahead of us. It was long, hard, and gritty work. There was much to do to return things to something like a normal condition, but please note that it didn’t stay dark forever. The sun came up on a different and damaged world, but the sun came up.
You may even now find yourself in the shadow of your own frightening ash cloud. If you do, please remember that you can chase that darkness away with the light of truth. I promise you that the sun can come up again in your world too. However, when the light returns, don’t be surprised to find that there is long, hard, and gritty work yet to do. The exhausting work we had to do to deal with tons and tons of volcanic ash took its toll primarily on our arms and backs. As you struggle to recover from the fallout of darkness in your life, you will find yourself laboring primarily with your knees and your heart.

My Aunt Shannon needed to get a lung transplant because she has cystic fibrosis. I had been praying for her morning and night. One night right after I said my prayers, I had a strong feeling that she would get the transplant. The next morning my mom told me that Aunt Shannon had been called by the doctors. They said, “We have a pair of lungs for you.” I know that my feeling came from the Holy Ghost.Chase C., age 11, Arizona

A couple of years ago a young man—let’s call him John—came to my office, having shortly returned from his mission. He was a student at this university.
He said to me, with great concern, “Elder Clarke, I need help. I loved my mission. It changed me. However, I am losing some of those sacred and special feelings that I felt in the mission field. I live in an apartment of returned missionaries. We don’t pray together, and we don’t read the scriptures together.”
He was pleading, “Can you help me?”
He asked, “What can I do to feel like I felt in the mission field?”
I have seen this happen many times. It is not just a question for returned missionaries. His question was, “What can I do to be happy, feel the Holy Ghost, and be close to the Savior?”
This is a question we all should ask every day.
On that afternoon in my office we turned to James 1:27 and read:
Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world.
We then read in Alma 34:28:
And now behold, my beloved brethren, I say unto you, do not suppose that this is all; for after ye have done all these things, if ye turn away the needy, and the naked, and visit not the sick and afflicted, and impart of your substance, if ye have, to those who stand in need—I say unto you, if ye do not any of these things, behold, your prayer is vain, and availeth you nothing, and ye are as hypocrites who do deny the faith.
Pure religion includes caring for the poor and the needy.
...
That day in my office I told John that if he would practice pure religion, he would be happy and feel like he had felt on his mission. We went on to discuss pure religion as defined in James 1:27, Alma 34:28, and John 21.
...
John went back to BYU and acted upon what we had discussed. He sent me the following email:

Hi, Elder Clarke.
How are you? I hope all is well. It has been a while since I have written you, and I wanted to see how everything has been going. I feel you should know that I still think about our meeting last January. I felt the Spirit very strong in teaching me life’s principles that we spoke of, and doing so has continued to bless my life. Each month I have learned different things from that conversation and our other conversations since. Visiting the widows and the elderly has been an incredible blessing. I have seen repayments of kindness many times over. I could go on, really, and fill this page with experiences. Thank you. It is truly a blessing to have a great friend.

I would like to share one experience, however, that you might enjoy. A few Sundays ago I went to an assisted-care facility for the elderly to read inspirational stories from the Ensign. The twelve or so of us began with a prayer, and I began to read to them. The Spirit over that hour entered gradually and powerfully, and the simple stories of faith turned into very powerful testimony builders. Many individuals felt a great amount of love and support from the Savior as the Spirit testified of simple truths and testimonies.

It touched my soul to be able to be an instrument for the Lord, because I definitely felt His love for those sweet people. As I was on my way out, a few commented that they wanted to adopt me! I had never known I was capable of feeling such love from and for strangers with whom I had little connection. But I felt the Savior’s love for them, for those kind souls. It appeared clear to me that I would meet these individuals—now riddled by dementia, Alzheimer’s, and physical ailments—on the other side. I would see their husbands and wives, who have been looking over them from the other side of the veil. I felt very much the presence of my grandfather—whom I had never met—as I sat with my grandmother, and his spirit strengthened me and supported me. I knew he was thankful for my simple visit.

Who knew that I could find such tender mercies? It seems so meaningless to come home after something like that and just turn on the TV or tune out in some other way. It has changed me to realize that these tender experiences are available at all moments of the day as we, as Saints, strive to focus and help others in some way.

As I left that room that day, all of the elderly wished for my prompt return. They had bright smiles and warm hearts. They were thankful. In the hallway, your words echoed in my heart: “They will do more for you than you will ever be able to do for them.” What a blessing true service is!

Max rocked back and forth in his chair. His favorite part of Primary was about to start.
“Welcome to singing time,” Sister Rose said. The piano started to play. Max sang along.
Max loved singing time. But his family wasn’t really like the happy families he sang about in Primary. Things were hard at home.
That’s why Max liked Primary so much. He always felt loved and safe when he was there. He felt peace in Primary.
“For our next song, I have a special challenge for you,” said Sister Rose. “As we sing, I want you to think about what it will be like when you are grown up and have a family of your own.”
The piano music started again. The notes were soft and peaceful. Max looked around the room. He could see pictures of Jesus and the temple hanging on the wall.
The other children began to sing. Max started singing too. Mine is a home where every hour is blessed by the strength of priesthood power.
Max closed his eyes and imagined being a dad. He thought of praying with his future family. He imagined singing songs with them, playing games together, and having home evening.
As he sang the last words, Max had a big smile on his face. I can often feel the Savior near when love is spoken here.
Someday Max could have a family like that. Someday he could have a home where he felt peaceful like he did in Primary. Thinking about it made Max feel warm all over.
He raised his hand. “Sister Rose,” Max said, “I think that song is kind of like a recipe. A recipe for a happy family.”
“You’re right,” Sister Rose said. “No family is perfect. But when we try to be like Jesus, we can help our families. We can help make our homes peaceful places.”
Max looked at the picture of the temple on the wall. He knew he could help his family now by being like Jesus. And even though it was far away, he was excited to have his own family. And it made him happy to know that he could be with them forever.
After his mission, Max got married in the temple. Now he always does his best to make his home a place where people can feel loved.

How can I turn my heart to my ancestors? I can do it by learning about them. I recently received a letter from an uncle, Lynwood Ellis, recalling acts of kindness performed long ago by my father and mother. He said that he loved to go to their house because my father always gave him citrus fruit. This was back in 1918 or 1920, when citrus fruit just wasn’t often available in Utah. How did my father manage to get it? My uncle didn’t know, but he was sure that my father didn’t get this fruit for his own use. He just enjoyed giving it away! As I read these stories, my heart was turned to my father and mother because I knew more about their hearts. I found that I wanted to learn more about them and about their parents and grandparents.

I carried a tray of food, prepared by my mother-in-law, into a cluttered and dusty home. The sole occupant sat where she always sat, on a big armchair positioned so she could see out the window. Her swollen legs were stretched in front of her and her cane, which she used only with great effort, leaned against her arm. She smiled when she saw me, thanked me for the food, and apologetically asked who I was. As I sat next to her and listened to her stories, I was filled with warmth and peace.
Three years later, I was on the floor with my two young children, bouncing them on my legs and singing a racehorse tune. Only a few feet away, my kitchen was in disarray and toys were scattered across the floor. I suddenly felt a reassurance from the Spirit that I was right where I needed to be. Warmth and peace flooded my soul, filling its worn edges and giving energy where there was none.
Another two years forward, I was lying on the bed. A pile of laundry was visible on the floor, and a stack of papers littered the desk to my left as I fed my newborn son for the fourth time that night. I brushed my fingertips against his long lashes, felt his soft bald head, and was thrilled when fingers curled around the lace of my shirt. I was so filled with warmth and peace that I didn’t even mind that I was sometimes awake at three in the morning.
In each of these cases, the Holy Ghost was with me, telling me I was in the right place and doing the right thing, and in each of these cases, I was in a messy home.
I still remember the shock I felt the first time I made this connection—I began questioning my experiences. After all, I had always thought growing up that the Holy Ghost doesn’t dwell in unclean places—so I took that to include dirty homes. And these thoughts were nearly always accompanied by a scriptural reference. We learn in 1 Nephi 10:21 that “no unclean thing can dwell with God.” And the Lord tells us in Doctrine and Covenants 88:124 to “cease to be idle; [and] cease to be unclean.”
The irony in all of this is that I missed the deeper meaning of these scriptures—the importance of keeping our personal temples, our minds and bodies, clean—and instead jumped straight to the physical meaning. I had somehow learned from all of these lessons that my worth as a young wife and mother was all wrapped up in how perfect and clean my house was—and the effect of that belief was devastating.
I was always paralyzed with fear when the state of my home was not so perfect. I often didn’t listen for whisperings from the Spirit because I would look around my apartment and think, “No, there’s no way the Spirit can dwell here.”
I can’t remember the exact moment I realized I could feel the Spirit in a home that fell far short from the temple’s standards of cleanliness. But I do remember when I realized that the Lord, with His infinite capacity for compassion and empathy, saw the less-than-perfect efforts I offered, accepted them, and still sent me the spiritual companionship I desperately needed. He doesn’t need me to be perfect right now—He just needs me to do the best I can.
It hasn’t happened overnight, but slowly I’ve let go of what Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles refers to as “toxic perfectionism” (see “Be Ye Therefore Perfect—Eventually,” Ensign or Liahona, Nov. 2017, 42). I’ve started allowing myself to believe that I can have the Holy Ghost with me even if I don’t have the energy to stay up all night with a teething baby and keep up with the laundry. Instead, I make sure I give the best I can give, and I accept the love Heavenly Father sends in return. I haven’t given up on becoming a better homemaker, I just say yes to the grace and inspiration the Lord has been trying to give me for so long. Because when I keep myself spiritually clean and do what He asks me to do, the Holy Ghost comes, messy house or not.

“Mary, what do you see?” Mary’s stepmother spoke softly from her sickbed.
“The fighting seems to be getting closer,” said Mary, looking out the window. The American Civil War was being fought just a few miles away. The sound of gunshots had filled the air since morning. Mary turned to her stepmother. “I’m so sorry. I don’t think we can leave the house to get the doctor.”
“Come closer.” Mary sat next to the bed and took her stepmother’s hand. “I know your father is still not well,” Mary’s stepmother said quietly, “but you need to take the family to Zion—your brother, your sister, and the twins. Don’t give your father any peace until he goes to the Rocky Mountains! Promise me!”
Mary knew how much her family wanted to go to Salt Lake City. After they heard the gospel and were baptized, they had left England to join the Saints in Zion. But would it even be possible? She glanced at her father, who sat silently in his chair. Three years ago, Father had suffered a terrible stroke that had paralyzed his left side.
Mary took a deep breath. “I promise,” she whispered.
Soon Mary’s stepmother closed her eyes for the last time.
One morning soon after, Mary decided it was time to tell her father about her promise. “I know I’m just 14,” she said, “but I must take our family to Zion.” She heard the twins waking. “I need to go get breakfast started,” she said. “But just think about it, please.”
A few days later, Father called Mary’s name. “It’s all arranged,” he said. His speech was still slurred from the stroke. “I’ve sold our land and the coal mine so we can buy a wagon, some oxen, cows, and a few supplies. A wagon company is leaving soon for the West. They’re not Latter-day Saints, but we can travel with them as far as Iowa. When we get there, we can join a party of Saints going to the Salt Lake Valley.”
Mary threw her arms around him. “Thank you, Father.” Soon they would go to Zion!
The days passed quickly as Mary helped get the family ready for their travels. “Everything is going to be all right,” she told herself. “Soon we’ll be in Zion.”
But then Father fell ill. From the way his mouth drooped on one side, Mary feared it was another stroke.
“He’s too sick to travel,” she told the leader of the wagon company. “We just need a few days for him to recover.”
“We can’t wait,” the man said briskly. Seeing Mary’s face, he softened his tone. “You can stay here until he’s ready to travel, and then you can catch up with us.” With no other choice, Mary agreed.
A week later, Mary got her family ready to travel again. “The twins and Sarah can ride on the oxen,” she told Jackson, her nine-year-old brother. “Father can ride in the wagon, and you can help me drive the oxen.”
“I’m scared,” Sarah said in a small voice. She was only six, and she looked tiny on the ox’s broad back. The four-year-old twins looked at Mary with wide eyes.
“We’ll just make good time and catch up with our group!” Mary said with forced cheerfulness.
On and on the Wanlass family traveled, for miles and then for days. Finally, even Mary had to admit the truth.
The wagon party had not waited for them. Mary and her family would have to travel to Zion alone.
“Whoa, there!” Mary pulled back on the reins, and the oxen slowed. “Everyone all right?” She looked at her three youngest siblings, who rode on the oxen’s backs. They nodded.
The Platte River lay before them, wide and muddy. “What now?” her younger brother, Jackson, asked. He was only nine, but he was helping Mary drive the oxen. Father lay in the back of the wagon, still sick from his stroke.
“We don’t need to cross the river,” said Mary. “But we can follow it.” There was no road to Zion, but the river should guide them as they headed west. “Giddyap!”
Mary didn’t know that Mormon pioneers traveled on the other side of the Platte River and went a different way. By not crossing the river, they were entering Indian Territory. They would not see another wagon train for the rest of the journey.
They traveled on. Weeks later, Mary saw a cloud of dust approaching. “Steady,” she whispered to the oxen and herself. “Steady.”
The dust cleared to show a small group of Indians riding on horses. One of the riders moved toward the back of the wagon, where Father was lying.
The rider’s eyes were kind. “He is sick?” he asked, pointing to Father.
“Yes,” Mary whispered. The man called out something in his own language, and the men rode off as quickly as they had come.
Mary looked at the sun in the sky. “We’ll stop here,” she told Jackson. She lifted Sarah and the twins down.
“Mary, come look!” Jackson said. The man with the kind eyes was riding toward them, something heavy in his hands.
“Wild duck,” he said. “And rabbit. For you.” Mary could only stare, speechless, as he dropped the game into her arms. With another nod, he rode off into the twilight.
“Food!” Mary exclaimed. “Meat!” The man’s gift was truly a miracle.
More miracles happened on their journey. A buffalo herd came near them but then parted around the wagon, going on either side of it. A dust storm carried one of the twins into a river, but Mary was able to save her.
But the journey was still difficult. Every day the wagon looked more worn, and the oxen looked more tired. The ground was steep and rocky. The mountains were hard to cross. But Mary and her family kept plodding forward.
They were just coming down from a tall summit when Mary saw a man driving toward them in a wagon.
“Maybe he can tell us the way to Lehi, Utah!” she said to Jackson. They had an uncle who lived there.
“You’re in Echo Canyon, not far from the Salt Lake Valley,” the man said when she asked where they were. “But where is the rest of your party?”
The whole story came out, and the man listened with amazement. “You’ve traveled over 1,000 miles (1,609 km) all by yourselves?” He shook his head with admiration. “You are one brave girl. Let me tell you the way to Lehi. You’re nearly there.”
“Nearly there,” Mary whispered to herself as the man drew a rough map in the dirt. Nearly to Zion. “I think we might make it, after all.”
Mary and her family made it to Lehi, Utah. She later married and had a large family of her own. Her example of faith and courage has blessed many people.

Nina Abuliz Foster (Class of 2004) and her husband John describe their first experiences with personal prayer in their journey of conversion to Christ and His Church, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Nina grew up in Urumqi, China. A native Uyger of Turkish descent and a Muslim, she became a professional dancer gaining national renown in China as a lead performer and MC at the famous Windows of the World in Shenzhen, China. It was there she met a visiting performing group from BYU Hawaii and heard her first Christian prayer by a BYU Hawaii student, Emily Shumway. Nina says,“In her prayer Emily asked Heavenly Father to bless me and for Angels to protect me. She also mentioned something about families could be together forever. To me, I had been in the desert, and this was water.”
Through a series of miracles Nina was able to leave her professional career and come to BYU Hawaii as a student. She became attached immediately to us, Emily’s parents and called us, Mom and Dad Shumway. Nina remembers her first uttered prayer to Heavenly Father, “I still remember feeling nervous and excited [about offering my first personal prayer]. It seemed that Mom Shumway could read my mind; she smiled warmly and told me ‘in prayer, nothing can go wrong.’ When I opened my mouth to pray and said ‘Dear Heavenly Father,’ that’s the moment my life changed, and I felt tears running down my face and felt the arms of Heavenly Father holding me up but overwhelming me at the same time. I felt I was speaking directly to him, and while it seemed I had known him for a very long time, it was very peaceful and powerful to finally actually speak to him. ... Our Father in Heaven loves each one of us and he wants us to love each other as brothers and sisters. For example, one day the president’s home was robbed and Mom Shumway lost some valuables. To my surprise instead of trying to call the police, she knelt down and prayed for the thief. Mom explained to me that he must have a very sad and difficult life. Her prayer really helped me understand that Heavenly Father loves all his children, even the thieves.”

Illustrated by Mike Eagle
As a boy, David O. McKay wanted to know for himself that Joseph Smith was a prophet. One day while looking for cattle, he got off his horse and knelt under a serviceberry bush.
He asked Heavenly Father for a spiritual witness, then waited for something wonderful to happen. Nothing did.
David: If I am true to myself, I must say I am just the same “old boy” that I was before I prayed.
Disappointed, he got back on his horse and rode away.
Still, he continued faithful and in time served a mission in Scotland. One day while there, he saw an unfinished building with a stone carving over the front door. He read the inscription: “What E’er Thou Art, Act Well Thy Part.” This advice inspired him to work harder.
David: I am here as a representative of the Lord Jesus Christ. From this moment on I will do my part.
Later, during a missionary priesthood meeting, President McMurrin, his mission president, made a prophecy.
President McMurrin: Brother David, … God is mindful of you. If you will keep the faith you will yet sit in the leading councils of the Church.
During that meeting, Elder McKay received the sure witness he had prayed for as a boy. He knew the Church was true. He also knew that Heavenly Father answers our prayers in His own time and His own way.
As President of the Church, David O. McKay taught that every member of the Church is a missionary. Latter-day Saints responded by sharing the gospel with their neighbors.
If you’d like to learn more about President McKay, do the “President David O. McKay Crossword” on page 23.

President George Albert Smith, left, the eighth President of the Church, was born on 4 April 1870, just across the street from Temple Square. When he was 13, he attended Brigham Young Academy. He said, “I cannot remember much of what was said during the year that I was there, but there is one thing that I will probably never forget. Dr. [Karl] Maeser one day stood up and said:
“‘Not only will you be held accountable for the things that you do, but you will be held responsible for the very thoughts you think.’
“Being a boy, not in the habit of controlling my thoughts very much, it was quite a puzzle to me what I was to do, and it worried me.” A few days after this, President Smith came to a realization: “Why, of course, you will be held accountable for your thoughts because when your life is complete in mortality, it will be the sum of your thoughts. That one suggestion has been a great blessing to me all my life, and it has enabled me upon many occasions to avoid thinking improperly because I realize that I will be, when my life’s labor is complete, the product of my thoughts” (Church News, Feb. 16, 1946, 1).

When I was in junior high, I was honored by the school administration when I was asked to become a member of the student hall patrol. On the days we were assigned to be on hall patrol, we were instructed to bring our lunch to school and eat it together. It was always a special treat, and there was always a lot of competition to see whose mother had prepared the most desirable lunch. Often we traded lunch items among ourselves.
One day when I was assigned to be on hall patrol, I forgot to tell Mother I needed a lunch until I was almost ready to leave for school. An expression of concern came over Mother’s face when I requested a lunch. She told me she had just used up her last loaf of bread for breakfast and would not be baking until that afternoon. All she had in the house to make a lunch was a large sweet roll left over from the previous night’s supper. Mother made delicious sweet rolls. She always arranged them in a pan so there was one large one across the top of the pan and then rows of smaller ones down the length of the pan. Only the large one remained. It was about the size of a loaf of bread in length but, of course, not in thickness. I was embarrassed to take just a sweet roll for lunch when I imagined what the other patrol members would have, but I decided it was better to go with the sweet roll than go without lunch.
When it came time to eat lunch, I went to a far-off corner so I wouldn’t be noticed. When the trading of lunches started, my friends wanted to know what I had. I explained what had happened that morning, and to my dismay, everyone wanted to see the sweet roll. But my friends surprised me—instead of making fun of me, they all wanted to have a piece of the sweet roll! It turned out to be my best lunch trading day of the entire year! The sweet roll I thought would be an embarrassment to me turned out to be the hit of our lunch hour.

I remember years ago I was visiting a branch of the Church in Savannah, Georgia. I was taken to the Relief Society with my wife for lunch. I said, “My, you have a big Relief Society. How many members do you have in the Savannah Branch?” She said, “Well, about 40 sisters.” I said, “There’s a lot more than 40 here this morning.”

“Yes,” she said, “there are 84 here this morning.”

I checked and found out many were investigators and friends of members, all being “worked” and fellowshipped into the community of the Church. Fellowshipping is particularly effective with many of our part-member families.

The average stake has, say 450 prospective elders. About 60 percent are married to nonmember wives. So that’s about 300 nonmember wives. Now, we also have many member women who have married nonmember husbands—let’s say 150. And so, you have 450 or so part-member families. Add the children and you have another 100. That presents a lot of eligible people to be taught by the full-time and stake missionaries, uniting the families, and helping them get to the temple.

I’m a great believer in the power of teaching in groups. But I would not just toss any of these 450 nonmembers and their partners together without thinking and praying about it and making some divisions, grouping the younger-aged couples together, the middle-aged together, the more elderly together. I would subdivide even further. Just because a person is young or old doesn’t mean he is interested in anyone his age—what about educational and vocational and personal interests? Prayerful grouping and teaching of these families in companionable groups results in marvelous things.

Where I have found this most successful, it was because a member of the stake presidency or a high councilor called and said something like, “John, I know you’re not active in the Church, but I’m just calling a group of men and their wives like you to come over and see me individually. I’d just like to talk to you. Would you mind coming over at such and such a time?” Many come and relatively few are bitter—they’re just spiritually dead, as far as outward signs indicate. I’ve heard that many of them respond and say, “This is the first time in 10 years anyone really asked me to come and talk to them.”

Following the visit, the man and his wife may be invited to associate with one of the groups. And just as in the case of a nonmember family, this is exactly where the great help of the members is needed—in the social transition, in the friendshipping. While the discussions are being given, the following activities have shown themselves to be very effective: (a) do something for the investigating family or part-member family daily; (b) take them to Church meetings and socials now—this week!; (c) for nonmember families, coordinate through the missionaries the visits of the auxiliaries during the first weeks; and for part-member families, coordinate through the home teachers the same visits by auxiliary officers and teachers; (d) arrange appropriate activities with ward members; (e) take the family to a baptismal service; (f) arrange a family home evening—even with the part-member family if it would be appreciated; (g) leave a schedule of Church meetings and tracts—but not all of them at once; (h) help with substitutes for Word of Wisdom problems; (i) fast and pray with them; and (j) for part-member families, arrange visits with the bishops—bishops have converting power.

Elder Richards: My advice to such persons is to show their husbands or wives by the way they live the wonderful influence of the gospel in their lives. They should be better parents and more thoughtful, considerate, and happy companions.

As much as possible, they should practice the teachings of the gospel in their homes and bring its influence into the lives of their children.

Whenever possible, their friends should be from among those who will have a good influence, who will build up respect and admiration for the Church and its teachings through their association.

Without pushing, opportunities should be made for the husband or wife to be taught the gospel. Often, this is most effective when the couple can be part of a group that is being taught. If there are others in the group who are in the same circumstances, this often helps.

Never let the husband or wife feel that he or she is an outsider. The member spouse and the family should help the nonmember to feel that family unity, “oneness,” is important, and hold tight to the belief that the family should be “one” in every way.

Above all, and after all else you can do, remember that the greatest help will come from your Heavenly Father. Pray always and be patient.

But your spouse needs help. Fellowshipping plays a vital part here. It concerns me that some of our stake and ward leaders have not fully understood how important fellowshipping is. I tell you this is an area where every member can make a real contribution.

But you just can’t sit around waiting for someone to come up and ask you to fellowship them. Life is not like that. You’ve got to get involved wherever you can, volunteer to help, and just be alert. That’s one of the reasons the Lord gave us the Holy Ghost—to keep us alert to our opportunities for blessing others, as well as ourselves.

I was in Vernal, Utah, near the Colorado border, and met a sister who had just helped a family of five join the Church. She said she was down at the grocery store and saw this woman having trouble finding groceries. “Can I help?” she asked. After helping her, she asked if the woman was just traveling through. The woman said she and her husband were traveling to Colorado to find work, and our sister said, “Well, why don’t you look around here?”

“Oh we wouldn’t know where to look,” said the woman.

“Well,” our good sister said, “let me help you out. Let’s get your groceries and come on over to our home and maybe I can help your husband meet some people who can help him get a job.”

The sister got on the phone and within an hour or two, the man was on the way out to interview for some jobs. He accepted one of them, working and helping to manage a ranch.

Well, do you think this good Samaritan sister stopped there? I should say not. The family of five had nowhere to stay, and so they were invited to stay at her home that night, where they saw happy family life, blessing of the food, family prayers, night and morning, and all the rest. The man and his wife and three children were most appreciative and were interested in this sister and her family. She said that after they got settled, she’d like to let them know why they were the way they were. A week later, she took the missionaries out to this man and his wife—and the family was baptized and eagerly entered the Church. And through it all, our good sister and others provided a transition into the community.

One of the most difficult aspects of conversion is the investigator’s feeling that he is alone and that he is leaving his old friends and way of life for something new. All members can be actively involved—and need to go out of their way to get involved—in helping others find the Church, find new friends, take persons who are investigating the gospel to socials, meetings, athletic events—everything good and wholesome. Otherwise, the investigators generally fear the awkward sensation of being obvious newcomers and strangers. This is another reason why I like grouping part-member families in compatible groups. By teaching several together, we make it possible for new friendships to develop. Many choice things have happened when a group of sincere part-member families get together to learn about their spouse’s religion—and as they talk and learn and share feelings and as the member spouse bears appropriate testimony, even about his or her life, the Spirit moves across their hearts and wonderful truths are discovered. It works! I see and hear about it all the time.